diff options
Diffstat (limited to '42044-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 42044-8.txt | 7850 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 7850 deletions
diff --git a/42044-8.txt b/42044-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 52e15a5..0000000 --- a/42044-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7850 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Salem Chapel, v. 2/2, 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. 2/2 - -Author: Mrs. Oliphant - -Release Date: February 7, 2013 [EBook #42044] -[Last updated: July 5, 2013] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SALEM CHAPEL, V. 2/2 *** - - - - -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. 1092. - - SALEM CHAPEL BY MRS. OLIPHANT. - - IN TWO VOLUMES. - - VOL. II. - - - - - Chronicles of Carlingford - - SALEM CHAPEL - - BY - - MRS. OLIPHANT. - - COPYRIGHT EDITION. - - IN TWO VOLUMES. - - VOL. II. - - LEIPZIG - - BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ - - 1870. - - The Right of Translation is reserved. - - - - - SALEM CHAPEL. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -MRS. VINCENT rose from the uneasy bed, where she had not slept, upon -that dreadful Sunday morning, with feelings which it would be vain to -attempt any description of. Snatches of momentary sleep more dreadful -than wakefulness had fallen upon her during the awful night--moments of -unconsciousness which plunged her into a deeper horror still, and from -which she started thinking she heard Susan call. Had Susan called, had -Susan come, in any dreadful plight of misery, her mother thought she -could have borne it; but she could not, yet did, bear this, with the -mingled passion and patience of a woman; one moment rising up against -the intolerable, the next sitting down dumb and steadfast before that -terrible necessity which could not be resisted. She got up in the dim -wintry morning with all that restless anguish in her heart, and took out -her best black silk dress, and a clean cap to go under her bonnet. She -offered a sacrifice and burnt-offering as she dressed herself in her -snow-white cuffs, and composed her trim little figure into its Sunday -neatness; for the minister's mother must go to chapel this dreadful -day. No whisper of the torture she was enduring must breathe among the -flock--nothing could excuse her from attending Salem, seeing her son's -people, and hearing Mr. Beecher preach, and holding up Arthur's standard -at this dangerous crisis of the battle. She felt she was pale when she -came into the sitting-room, but comforted herself with thinking that -nobody in Salem knew that by nature she had a little tender winter bloom -upon her face, and was not usually so downcast and heavy-eyed. -Instinctively, she rearranged the breakfast-table as she waited for the -young minister from Homerton, who was not an early riser. Mr. Beecher -thought it rather cheerful than otherwise when he came in somewhat late -and hurried, and found her waiting by the white covered table, with the -fire bright and the tea made. He was in high spirits, as was natural. He -thought Vincent was in very comfortable quarters, and had uncommonly -pleasant rooms. - -"Don't you think so? And one has just as great a chance of being -uncomfortable as not in one's first charge," said the young preacher; -"but we were all delighted to hear that Vincent had made an 'it. -Liberal-minded people, I should say, if I may judge by Mr. Tozer, who -was uncommonly friendly last night. These sort of people are the -strength of our connection--not great people, you know, but the flower -of the middle classes. I am surprised you did not bring Miss Vincent -with you for a little cheerful society at this time of the year." - -"My daughter may perhaps come yet, before--before I leave," said Mrs. -Vincent, drawing herself up, with a little hauteur, as Mr. Beecher -thought, though in reality it was only a physical expression of that sob -of agony to which she dared not give vent in audible sound. - -"Oh, I thought it might be more cheerful for her in the winter," said -the preacher, a little affronted that his interest in Vincent's pretty -sister should be received so coldly. He was interrupted by the arrival -of the post, for Carlingford was a profane country town, and had its -letters on Sunday morning. The widow set herself desperately down in an -arm-chair to read Arthur's letter. It made her heart beat loud with -throbs so violent that a blindness came over her eyes, and her very life -failed for an instant. It was very short, very assured and certain--he -was going to Northumberland, where the fugitives had gone--he was going -to bring Susan back. Mr. Beecher over his egg watched her reading this, -and saw that she grew ashy, deathly pale. It was not possible for him to -keep silent, or to refrain from wondering what it was. - -"Dear me, I am afraid you are ill--can I get you anything?" he said, -rising from the table. - -Mrs. Vincent folded up her letter. "Thank you; my tea will refresh me," -she said, coming back to her seat. "I did not sleep very much last -night, and my head aches: when people come to my time of life," said the -little woman, with a faint heroical smile, "they seldom sleep well the -first few nights in a new place. I hope you rested comfortably, Mr. -Beecher. Mr. Vincent, Arthur's dear papa, used to say that he never -preached well if he did not sleep well; and I have heard other -ministers say it was a very true rule." - -"If that is all, I hope you will be pleased to-day," said the preacher, -with a little complaisance. "I always sleep well; nothing puts me much -out in that respect. Perhaps it is about time to start now? I like to -have a few minutes in the vestry before going into the pulpit. You know -the way perhaps? or we can call at Mr. Tozer's and get one of them to -guide us." - -"I think I know the way," said Mrs. Vincent, faintly. It was a slight -comfort, in the midst of her martyrdom, to leave the room and have a -moment to herself. She sank down by her bedside in an inarticulate agony -of prayer, which doubtless God deciphered, though it never came to -words, and rose up again to put on her bonnet, her neat shawl, her best -pair of gloves. The smile that might have come on the face of a martyr -at the stake dawned upon the little woman's lips as she caught sight of -her own pale face in the glass, when she was tying her bonnet-strings. -She was not thrusting her hand into the scorching flames, she was only -pulling out the bows of black ribbon, and giving the last touch to that -perfection of gentle neatness in which Arthur's mother, for his sake, -must present herself to his people. She took Mr. Beecher's arm -afterwards, and walked with him, through the wintry sunshine and streams -of churchgoers, to Salem. Perhaps she was just a little sententious in -her talk to the young preacher, who would have stared had anybody told -him what active and feverish wretchedness was in her heart. She quoted -Arthur's dear father more than usual; she felt a little irritated in -spite of herself by the complaisance of the young man from 'Omerton. -Notwithstanding the dreadful pressure of her trouble, she felt that his -excitement in the prospect of preaching to Arthur's people was quite -ill-timed. What did it matter to him whether the Salem flock liked him -or not? Were they not Arthur's people, pre-engaged to their own pastor? -The gentle widow did what she could to bring Mr. Beecher down as they -walked through Grove Street. She remarked, gently, that where a minister -was very popular, a stranger had but little chance of appreciation. "You -must not be mortified if you see the congregation look disappointed when -you come into the pulpit," said Mrs. Vincent; "for my son, if he had not -been called away so suddenly, was to commence a course of lectures -to-day, and I believe a good deal of expectation was raised about them." -The new preacher was perhaps a shade less buoyant when he resigned his -friend's mother to Tozer at the door of the chapel, to be conducted to -her pew. Salem was already about half filled; and the entering flock -looked at Mrs. Vincent, as she stood with the deacon in the porch, -asking, with the courtesy of a royal personage, humble yet affable, -after his wife and daughter. Tozer was a little overawed by the -politeness of the minister's mother. He concluded that she was "quite -the lady" in his private heart. - -"If you tell me where the minister's seat is, I need not trouble you to -go in," said Mrs. Vincent. - -"Mrs. Tufton's uncommon punctual, and it's close upon her time," said -Tozer; "being a single man, we've not set apart a seat for the -minister--not till he's got some one as can sit in it; it's the old -minister's seat, as is the only one we've set aside; for we've been -a-letting of the pews uncommon this past month, and it don't answer to -waste nothing in a chapel as is as expensive to keep up as Salem. It's -our pride to give our minister a good salary, as you know, ma'am, and -we've all got to pay up according, so there ain't no pew set apart for -Mr. Vincent--not till he's got a wife." - -"Then I am to sit in Mr. Tufton's pew?" said the minister's mother, not -without a little sharpness. - -"There ain't no more of them never at Salem, but Mrs. Tufton," said -Tozer. "Mr. Tufton has had a shock, and the only one of a family they've -at home is a great invalid, and never was within the chapel door in my -time. Mr. Tufton he do come now and again. He would have been here -to-day, I make bold to say, but for the minister being called away. I -hope you've 'eard from Mr. Vincent, ma'am, and as he'll soon be back. It -ain't a good thing for a congregation when the pastor takes to going off -sudden. Here she is a-coming. Mrs. Tufton, ma'am, this is Mrs. Vincent, -the minister's mother; she's been waiting for you to go into your pew." - -"I hope I shall not be in your way," said Mrs. Vincent, with her -dignified air. "I have always been accustomed to see a seat for the -minister, but as I am a stranger, I hope for once I shall not be in your -way." - -"Don't say a word!" cried Mrs. Tufton. "I am as glad as possible to see -Mr. Vincent's mother. He is a precious young man. It's not a right -principle, you know, but it's hard not to envy people that are so happy -in their families; nothing would make my Tom take to the ministry, -though his papa and I had set our hearts upon it; and he's in Australia, -poor dear fellow! and my poor girl is such an invalid. I hope your -daughter is pretty well? Come this way. I hope I shall see a great deal -of you. Mr. Tufton takes such an interest in his young brother; all that -he wants is a little good advice--that is what the minister always tells -me. All that Mr. Vincent wants, he says, is a little good advice." - -The latter part of this was communicated in a whisper, as the two ladies -seated themselves in the minister's pew. After a momentary pause of -private devotion, Mrs. Tufton again took up the strain where she had -left it off. - -"I assure you, we take the greatest interest in him at the cottage. He -doesn't come to see us so often as Mr. Tufton would wish, but I daresay -he has other things to do. The minister often says to me that he is a -precious young man, is Mr. Vincent, and that a little good advice and -attention to those that know better is all he wants to make him a -shining light; and I am sure he will want no good advice Mr. Tufton can -give him. So you may keep your mind easy--you may keep your mind quite -easy. In any difficulty that could occur, I am sure the minister would -act as if he were his own son." - -"You are very kind; but I hope no difficulty will occur," said Mrs. -Vincent, with a little quiver in her lip. - -"I hope not, indeed; but there are so many people to please in a flock," -said the late minister's wife, with a sigh. "We always got on very well, -for Mr. Tufton is not one to take a deal of notice of any -unpleasantness; but you know as well as I do that it takes a deal of -attention to keep all matters straight. If you'll excuse me, it's a -great pity Mr. Vincent has gone away to-day. Nothing would have made my -husband leave his post just as he was intimated to begin a course of -lectures. It's very excusable in Mr. Vincent, because he hasn't that -experience that's necessary. I always say he's very excusable, being -such a young man; and we have no doubt he'll get on very well if he does -but take advice." - -"My son was very unwilling to go; but it was quite necessary. His -sister," said Mrs. Vincent, clasping her hands tight under her shawl to -balance the pang in her heart, "was with some friends--whom we heard -something unpleasant about--and he went to bring her home. I expect -them--to-morrow." - -The poor mother shut her lips close when she had said the words, to keep -in the cry or sob that seemed bursting from them. Yes, God help her, she -expected them; perhaps to-morrow--perhaps that same dreadful night; but -even in the height of her anguish there occurred to Mrs. Vincent a -forlorn prayer that they might not come back that Sunday. Rather another -agonising night than that all the "Chapel folks" should be aware that -their pastor was rushing wildly along distant railways on the day of -rest. The fact that he was doing so added a pang to her own trouble. -Total disarrangement, chaos, all the old habitudes of life gone to -wreck, and only desperation and misery left, was the sensation produced -by that interruption of all religious use and wont. It came upon her -with an acute sting, to think that her poor young minister was -travelling that Sunday; just as in Arthur's own experience at that same -moment, the utter incoherence, chaos, and wretchedness into which his -life had suddenly fallen, breathed upon him in the sound of the -church-bells. - -"Dear me, I am very sorry!" said Mrs. Tufton; "some fever or something, -I suppose--something that's catching? Dear, dear me, I am so sorry! but -there are some people that never take infection; a little camphor is -such a nice thing to carry about--it can't do any harm, you know. Mrs. -Tozer tells me he is a very nice young man, Mr. Vincent's friend from -'Omerton. I don't like to say such a thing of a girl, but I do believe -your son could have that Phoebe any day for asking, Mrs. Vincent. I -can't bear forward girls, for my part--that is her just going into the -pew, with the pink bonnet; oh, you know her!--to be sure, Mrs. Pigeon -remarked you were sure to go there; though I should have hoped we would -have seen you as soon as any one in Carlingford." - -"Indeed, I have been much disappointed not to call. I--I hope I -shall--tomorrow," said the widow, to whom tomorrow loomed dark like -another world, and who could not help repeating over and over the -dreaded name. - -"That is Maria Pigeon all in white--to be only tradespeople they do -dress more than I approve of," said Mrs. Tufton. "My Adelaide, I am -sure, never went like that. Many people think Maria a deal nicer-looking -than Phoebe Tozer, but her mother is so particular--more than -particular--what I call troublesome, you know. You can't turn round -without giving her offence. Dear me, how my tongue is going! the -minister would say I was just at my old imprudent tricks--but you, that -were a minister's wife, can understand. She is such a difficult woman to -deal with. I am sure Mr. Tufton is always telling them to wait, and that -Mr. Vincent is a young man yet, and experience is all he wants. I wish -he had a good wife to keep him straight; but I don't know that that -would be advisable either, because of Phoebe and the rest. Dear, dear, -it is a difficult thing to know what to do!--but Mr. Tufton always says, -If he had a little more experience---- Bless me, the young man is in the -pulpit!" said Mrs. Tufton, coming to a sudden standstill, growing very -red, and picking up her hymn-book. Very seldom had the good woman such a -chance of talk. She ran herself so out of breath that she could not join -in that first hymn. - -But Mrs. Vincent, who had a sensation that the pew, and indeed the whole -chapel, trembled with the trembling that was in her own frame, but who -felt at the same time that everybody was looking at her, and that -Arthur's credit was involved, stood up steadfastly, holding her book -firm in both her hands, and with an effort almost too much for her, the -heroism of a martyr, added her soft voice, touched with age, yet still -melodious and true, to the song of praise. The words choked her as she -uttered them, yet with a kind of desperate courage she kept on. -Praise!--it happened to be a very effusive hymn that day, an utterance -of unmitigated thanksgiving; fortunately she had not sufficient command -of her mind or wits to see clearly what she was singing, or to enter -into the wonderful bitter difference between the thanks she was uttering -and the position in which she stood. Could she give God thanks for -Susan's ruin, or rejoice in the light He had given, when it revealed -only misery? She was not called upon to answer that hard question. She -stood up mechanically with her white face set in pale steadfastness, and -was only aware that she was singing, keeping the tune, and making -herself noways remarked among the crowd of strange people, many of whom -turned curious eyes towards her. She stood with both her feet set firm -on the floor, both her hands holding fast to the book, and over the ache -of frightful suspense in her heart came the soft voice of her singing, -which for once in her life meant nothing except a forlorn determination -to keep up and hold herself erect and vigilant, sentinel over Arthur's -fortunes and his people's thoughts. - -Mr. Beecher's sermon was undeniably clever; the Salem folks pricked up -their ears at the sound of it, recalling as it did that period of -delightful excitation when they were hearing candidates, and felt -themselves the dispensers of patronage. That was over now, and they -were wedded to one; but the bond of union between themselves and their -pastor was far from being indissoluble, and they contemplated this new -aspirant to their favour with feelings stimulated and piquant, as a not -inconsolable husband, likely to become a widower, might contemplate the -general female public, out of which candidates for the problematically -vacant place might arise. Mrs. Pigeon, who was the leader of the -opposition, and whose daughter Mr. Vincent had not distinguished, whose -house he had not specially frequented, and whom, most of all, he had -passed in the street without recognition, made a note of this man from -'Omerton. If the painful necessity of dismissing the present pastor -should occur--as such things did occur, deplorable though they were--it -might be worth while sending for Mr. Beecher. She made a note of him -privately in her mind, as she sat listening with ostentatious attention, -nodding her head now and then by way of assent to his statements. Mrs. -Vincent remarked her as she watched the congregation from the minister's -pew, with her jealous mother's eyes. The Tozers were not so devoted in -their listening. Mrs. Tozer's brilliant cherry-coloured bonnet visibly -drooped once or twice with a blessed irregularity of motion; all these -signs Mrs. Vincent perceived as she sat in preternatural acute -consciousness of everything round her, by Mrs. Tufton's side. She was -even aware that the sermon was clever; she remembered expressions in it -long after, which somehow got burned in, without any will of hers, upon -her breaking heart. The subdued anguish that was in her collected fuel -for its own silent consuming fire, even in the congregation of Salem, -where, very upright, very watchful, afraid to relax her strained nerves -even by leaning back or forward, she lived through the long service as -if through a year of suffering. - -The congregation dispersed in a buzz of talk and curiosity. Everybody -wanted to know where the minister had gone, and what had taken him away. -"I can't say as I think he's using of us well," said somebody, whom Mrs. -Vincent could hear as she made her way to the door. "Business of his -own! a minister ain't got no right to have business of his own, -leastways on Sundays. Preaching's his business. I don't hold with that -notion. He's in our employ, and we pays him well----" - -Here a whisper from some charitable bystander directed the speaker's -eyes to Mrs. Vincent, who was close behind. - -"Well! it ain't nothing to me who hears me," said this rebellious -member, not without a certain vulgar pleasure in his power of insult. -"We pays him well, as I say; I have to stick to my business well or ill, -and I don't see no reason why the minister should be different. If he -don't mind us as pays him, why, another will." - -"Oh, I've been waiting to catch your eye," said Mrs. Pigeon, darting -forward at this crisis to Mrs. Tufton; "wasn't that a sweet sermon? -that's refreshing, that is! I haven't listened to anything as has roused -me up like that--no, not since dear Mr. Tufton came first to -Carlingford; as for what we've been hearing of late, I don't say it's -not clever, but, oh, it's cold! and for them as like good gospel -preaching and rousing up, I must confess as Mr. Vincent----" - -"Hush! Mrs. Pigeon--Mrs. Vincent," said Mrs. Tufton, hurriedly; "you two -ladies should have been introduced at the first. Mr. Pigeon is one of -our deacons and leading men, Mrs. Vincent, and I don't doubt you've -often and often heard your son talking of him. We are always discussing -Mr. Vincent, because he is our own pastor now, you know; and a precious -young man he is--and all that he wants is a little experience, as Mr. -Tufton always says." - -"Oh, I am sorry!-- I beg your pardon, I'm sure," cried Mrs. Pigeon; "but -I am one as always speaks my mind, and don't go back of my word. Folks -as sees a deal of the minister," continued the poulterer's wife, not -without a glance at that cherry-coloured bonnet which had nodded during -the sermon, and to which poor Mrs. Vincent felt a certain gratitude, -"may know different; but me as don't have much chance, except in chapel, -I will say as I think he wants speaking to: most folks do--specially -young folks, when they're making a start in the world. He's too high, he -is, for us plain Salem folks; what we want is a man as preaches gospel -sermons--real rousing-up discourses--and sits down pleasant to his tea, -and makes hisself friendly. I never was one as thought a minister -couldn't do wrong. I always said as they were just like other men, -liking grand dinners and grand folks, and the vanities of this -world; not meaning no offence, Mrs. Vincent, neither to you nor the -minister--but I must say as I think, he's a deal too high." - -"My son has had very good training," said the widow, not without -dignity. "His dear father had many good friends who have taken an -interest in him. He has always been accustomed to good society, and I -must say, at the same time," added Mrs. Vincent, "that I never knew -Arthur to fail in courtesy to the poorer brethren. If he has done so, I -am sure it has been unintentionally. It is quite against my principles -and his dear father's to show any respect to persons. If he has shown -any neglect of Mrs. Pigeon's family," continued the mild diplomatist, -"it must have been because he thought them less, and not more in need of -him than the rest of the flock." - -Mrs. Pigeon listened with open mouth, but total discomfiture: whether -this was a compliment or a reprimand was totally beyond her power to -make out. She cried, "Oh, I'm sure!" in a tone which was half defensive -and half deprecating. Mrs. Pigeon, however, intended nothing less than -to terminate the conversation at this interesting point, and it was with -utter dismay that she perceived Mrs. Vincent sweep past before she had -recovered herself--sweep past--though that black silk gown was of very -moderate dimensions, and the trim little figure was noways majestic. The -minister's mother made a curtsy to the astonished wife of the poulterer; -she said "good morning" with a gracious bow, and went upon her way -before Mrs. Pigeon had recovered her breath. Perfect victory attended -the gentle widow in this little passage of arms. Her assailant fell -back, repeating in a subdued tone, "Well, I'm sure!" Mrs. Pigeon, like -Tozer, granted that the minister's mother was "quite the lady," -henceforward, in her heart. - -And Mrs. Vincent passed on victorious; yes, victorious, and conscious of -her victory, though giddy with secret anguish, and feeling as if every -obstacle that hindered her return was a conscious cruelty. They could -not have arrived this morning--it was impossible; yet she burned to get -back to see whether impossibility might not be accomplished for once, -and Susan be there awaiting her. The first to detain her was Mrs. -Tufton, who hurried, with added respect, after her, triumphing secretly -in Mrs. Pigeon's defeat. - -"I am so glad you gave her her answer," said Mrs. Tufton; "bless me! how -pleased Adelaide will be when I tell her! I always said it would be well -for a minister's wife to have a spirit. Won't you come and take a bit of -dinner with us, as Mr. Vincent is not at home? Oh, I daresay somebody -will ask Mr. Beecher. It does not do to pay too much attention to the -young men that come to preach--though I think he was clever. You won't -come?--a headache?--poor dear! You're worrying about your daughter, I am -sure; but I wouldn't, if I were you. Young girls in health don't take -infection. She'll come back all right, you'll see. Well--good-bye. Don't -come in the evening if you have a headache. I shouldn't, if I were you. -Good-bye--and to-morrow, if all is well, we'll look for you. Siloam -Cottage--just a little way past Salem--you can't miss the way." - -"Yes, thank you--to-morrow," said Mrs. Vincent. If only anybody could -have known what dreadful work it was keeping up that smile, holding -upright as she did! Then she went on a little way in peace, half-crazed -with the misery that consumed her, yet unnaturally vigilant and on the -alert, always holding up Arthur's standard at that critical hour when he -had no representative but herself in his field of battle. But the poor -mother was not long allowed this interval of peace. After a few minutes, -the Tozers, who were going the same way, came up to her, and surrounded -her like a bodyguard. - -"I liked that sermon, ma'am," said Tozer; "there was a deal that was -practical in that sermon. If ever we should be in the way of hearing -candidates again--and shortsighted creatures like us never knows what's -a-going to happen--I'd put down that young man's name for an 'earing. -There ain't a word to be said again' the minister's sermons in the -matter of talent. They're full of mind, ma'am--they're philosophical, -that's what they are; and the pews we've let in Salem since he come, -proves it, let folks say what they will. But if there is a want, it's in -the application. He don't press it home upon their consciences, not as -some on us expected; and Mr. Tufton being all in that line, as you may -say, makes it show the more. If I was going to make a change again--not -as I mean nothing of the kind, nor as the Salem folks has ever took it -into their heads-- I'd like to have a little o' both ways, that's what -I'd like." - -"When you get a minister of independent-mind, Mr. Tozer, if he gives you -the best he has, he ought to be allowed to choose his own way," said -Mrs. Vincent. "My dear husband always said so, and he had great -experience. Mr. Vincent's son, I know, will never want friends." - -"I am sure as long as the minister keeps to his duty, he'll always find -friends in Tozer and me," said the deacon's wife, striking in; "and -though there may be folks in a finer way, there ain't no such good -friends a pastor can have as in his own flock. As for hearing candidates -and that, Tozer ought to know as none on us would hear of such a thing. -I don't see no reason why Mr. Vincent shouldn't settle down in -Carlingford and make himself comfortable. We're all his friends as long -as he's at his post." - -"Oh, ma, I am sure he is at his post," cried Phoebe; "he has gone away -because he could not help it. I am quite sure," continued the modest -maiden, casting down her eyes, "that he would never have left but for a -good reason! Oh, I am confident he is fond of Carlingford now. He would -not go away if he had not some duty-- I am certain he would not!" - -"If Phoebe is better informed than the rest of us, it ain't nobody's -business as I can see," said the father, with a short laugh. "I always -like the young folks to manage them matters among themselves; but I take -my own view, miss, for all that." - -"Oh, Pa, how can you talk so," cried Phoebe, in virgin confusion, "to -make Mrs. Vincent think----" - -"Indeed, nothing will make me think otherwise than I know," said Mrs. -Vincent, with a voice which extinguished Phoebe. "I understand my son. -He does not bestow his confidence very easily; and I am sure he is quite -able to manage all the matters he may have in hand," added the widow, -not without significance. Not all her anxiety for Arthur, not all her -personal wretchedness, could unwoman the minister's mother so much as to -make her forgive or overlook Phoebe's presumption. She could not have -let this pretendant to her son's affections off without transfixing her -with a passing arrow. Human endurance has its limits. Mrs. Vincent could -bear anything for Arthur except this pretence of a special interest in -him. - -"Oh, I am sure I never meant----!" faltered Phoebe; but she could get -no further, and even her mother did not come to the rescue. - -"Them things had much best not be talked of," said Mrs. Tozer, sharply. -"Mr. Beecher is coming in to have a bit of dinner. You mightn't have -things comfortable where you are, the minister being away, and you used -to your own house. Won't you come in with us and eat a bit of dinner? I -never can swallow a morsel when I'm by myself. It's lonesome for you in -them rooms, and us so near. There ain't no ceremony nor nonsense, but -we'll be pleased if you'll come." - -"Thank you very much," said Mrs. Vincent, who could not forget that the -cherry-coloured bonnet had nodded during Mr. Beecher's sermon, "but I -slept badly last night. At my time of life a new bed often makes one -sleepless, and I have a bad headache. I think I will go and lie down. -Many thanks. It is very kind of you to ask me. I hope I shall see you," -said the widow, with a slight shiver, repeating her formula, -"to-morrow." - -"You can't take us amiss," said Mrs. Tozer; "there's always enough for -an extra one, if it isn't grand or any ceremony; or if you'll come to -tea and go to church with us at night? Phoebe can run over and see how -you find yourself. Good mornin'. I'm sorry you'll not come in." - -"Oh, I wish you would let me go with you and nurse you," said Phoebe, -not without a glance in the other direction at the approaching form of -the young man from 'Omerton, "I am so frightened you don't like me!--but -I'll come over before tea, and sit with you if your headache is not -better. If I could only make you fancy I was Miss Vincent!" said -Phoebe, with pink pleading looks. - -Mrs. Vincent turned away more smartly under the effect of that -stimulant. She crossed George Street, towards her son's rooms, a -solitary little figure, in the flood of winter sunshine--not dismal to -look at, save for its black dress, trim, alert, upright still. And the -heart within, which ached with positive throbs of pain, had roused up -under that last provocation, and was stinging with indignation and -anger, pure womanly, and not to be deadened by any anguish. Phoebe's -impertinence, as she called it to herself, took her out of her own far -heavier trouble. To think of that pink creature having designs upon her -boy, and taking upon herself little airs of conquest! To encounter -Phoebe's wiles overwhelmed Arthur with shame and annoyance; but they -exasperated his mother. She went home with a steadier ring in her little -light footstep. But the fumes of that temporary excitement had faded -when the door opened upon her--the blank door, with the little maid -open-mouthed behind, who did not look her in the face, and who had -nothing to communicate: the sitting-room up-stairs lay blank in utter -solitude--all the books put away according to Sunday custom, and the -cover of Arthur's letter lying on the table startling his mother into -wild hopes that some other communication had come for her. She sank down -upon a chair, and covered her pale face with her hands--torture -intolerable, unendurable; but oh, how certainly to be endured and put up -with! This poor mother, who had met with many a heavy sorrow in her day, -though never any so hideous as this, was no excitable, passionate -creature, but a wholesome, daylight woman, in whom no strain of -superlative emotions had choked up the natural channels of relief. She -wept a few bitter, heavy tears under cover of her clasped hands--tears -which took away the dreadful pressure upon her brain, and made it easier -to bear for the moment. Then she went away in her patience, and took off -her bonnet, and prepared herself for the calm of the dreadful day of -which so small a portion had yet passed. She pretended to dine, that no -outlet might be left to gossip on that score. She took a good book and -lay down upon the sofa in the awful silence--the moments creeping, -stealing over her in a tedious procession which she could almost -see--the silence throbbing all around as if with the beats of her own -heart; how was it that the walls of the house stood steady with those -throbs palpitating within their dull enclosure? But there was this -comfort at least, that nobody fathomed Mrs. Vincent in that speechless -martyrdom of hers--nobody guessed the horror in her heart--nobody -imagined that there was anything of tragic meaning under that composed -aspect. She went to church again in the evening to escape Phoebe's -"nursing," and sat there choking with the anticipation that meantime her -son was bringing Susan home. She walked home with Beecher, devoured by -feverish hopes and fears, found still no one there, with an unutterable -pang, yet relief, and sat with the young man from 'Omerton for a -horrible hour or two, till the strain had all but killed her. But nobody -came; nobody came all through the hideous night. Holding with -half-frantic hands to the thread of life, which could ill bear this -total want of all its usual sustenance, but which must not be sacrificed -for her children's sake--keeping alive, she could not tell how, without -food, without rest, without even prayer--nothing but a fever of dumb -entreaty coming to her mind when she sought some forlorn comfort from -the mere fact of going on her knees-- Mrs. Vincent lived through the -night and the morning. Another horrible, sunshiny, cheerful day; but no -sound in earth or heaven to say they were coming--no arrival, no -letter--nothing but hopeless, sickening, intolerable suspense--suspense -all the more intolerable because it had to be borne. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -TO-MORROW! to-morrow was Monday morning, a new day, a new -work-week--cheerful, healthful, and exhilarating--bright with that -frosty sunshine, which carried comparative comfort to many a poor house -in Carlingford. The widow's face was sharper, paler, of a wonderful ashy -colour. Nature could not go on under such a struggle without showing -signs of it. Beecher, who was not to go until a late train, took leave -of her as soon as he could, not without a little fright, and betook -himself to Tozer's, where he said she overawed him with her grand -manners, and where he was led to admit that Vincent had always been a -little "high." If she could have abandoned herself to her dreadful -vigil, perhaps Mrs. Vincent might have found it easier, perhaps -harder--she herself thought the former; but she dared not give up to it. -She had to set her face like a flint--she was Arthur's representative, -and had still to show a steadfast front of battle for him, and if not -discomfit, still confront his enemies. She had to call at Siloam -Cottage, at Mrs. Tozer's, to do what else might be necessary for the -propitiation of the flock. She never dreamed of saying to herself that -she could not do it; there was no question of that; the flag had to be -kept flying for Arthur. No friend of his must be jeopardised, no -whisper allowed to rise which his mother could prevent: she had been a -minister's wife for thirty years; well had she learned in that time, -like Mrs. Tufton, that a deal of attention was needed to keep all things -straight. - -Accordingly, in the height of her excitement and anxiety, believing that -any moment the poor fugitive might be brought home, the widow, in her -unflinching martyrdom, once more put on her bonnet, and drew out her -black ribbon into bows of matchless neatness. Though she wrung her poor -hands in speechless anguish as she went out of the room, it was with -composed, though colourless lips, that she spoke to the little maid in -the hall. "Mr. Vincent may come home any time to-day," said the widow; -"you must have some lunch ready, and tea; perhaps his sister may be with -him--or--or she may come alone. Any one who comes is to be taken -up-stairs. I will not be long gone; and I am going to Mrs. Tufton's, if -anybody should want me----" - -At this moment a knock came to the door--a hurried single knock, always -alarming, and sounding like an evil omen. Mrs. Vincent's voice failed -her at that sound--most likely her face went into convulsive twitches, -for the maid stood staring at her, too much startled to open the door, -until a wild gesture from the speechless woman, who was herself unable -to move, her breath almost forsaking her, and coming in sobs, recalled -the girl to her senses. The door was opened, and Mrs. Vincent stood with -burning eyes gazing out. Ah, not Susan! never Susan!--a little, stout, -rustic figure, all weary and dishevelled, looking ashamed, frightened, -almost disreputable in utter forlornness and unhappiness. Mrs. Vincent -gave a great sob to get breath, and dropped upon the chair, and held out -her hand to Mary. She had forgotten Mary--forgotten her momentary -comfort in the fact that Susan's flight was not alone. Now was it life -or death the girl was bringing? She drew the frightened creature near, -close, and shrieked, as she thought, her question in her ear. "What? -what?" said Mrs. Vincent in her own mind; but no sound came to Mary's -ears. - -"O missis dear, missis dear!" sobbed the girl. "I've been and told Mr. -Arthur exact where she is--he's gone to fetch her home. O missis, don't -take on! they'll soon be here. Miss Susan's living, she ain't dead. O -missis, missis, she ain't dead--it might be worse nor it is." - -At these words Mrs. Vincent roused herself up once more. "My daughter -has been ill," she said in gasps, turning a dreadful look upon the -servant of the house. Then she rose, took hold of Mary's arm, and went -up-stairs with her, holding her fast. She shut the door with her own -hands when they got back to the lonely parlour full of daylight and -silence. "Miss Susan has been ill?" she said once more with parched -lips, looking again, with that full blank gaze which seemed to deny and -defy any other answer, in Mary's frightened face. - -"O missis, don't take on!" sobbed the terrified girl. - -"No, oh no, no, that is impossible. I can't take on, Mary, if I -would--oh no, not now," said the poor widow, with what seemed a -momentary wandering of her strained senses. "Tell me all-- I am ready to -hear it all." - -And then Mary began the pitiful story, the same they had heard in -Lonsdale--the sudden arrival of the girl and her governess, and innocent -Susan's puzzled interest in them; Mr. Fordham's appearance afterwards, -his sudden snatch at the stranger, his ready use of Arthur's letter, -which Susan was disturbed about, to persuade her that she must instantly -go to her mother and set all right; the journey bringing them late at -night to an unknown place, which, with the boom of the unexpected sea in -their ears, the defenceless deceived creatures found out not to be -Carlingford. Mary knew nothing of the scene which had been enacted -up-stairs, when the villanous scheme was made known to the unhappy -victim. She could tell nothing but by guesses of what had passed and -followed, and Mary, of course, by a natural certainty, guessed the -worst. But next day Susan had written to her mother, either because she -was still deceived or still innocent; and the next day again Mary was -sent away under a pretence of being sent to church, and the false -Fordham himself had conducted her to town and left her there. Such was -Mary's tale. Last night she had met Mr. Arthur and given him the -address. Now, no doubt, they were on their way,--if only missis would -not take on! "No," said the widow once more, with speechless lips. Take -on! oh no, never more. Surely all these light afflictions that could -bring tears were over now--nothing but horror and agony remained. The -poor mother sat for a little in a dreadful silence, aching all over her -anguished frame. Nothing was to be said or done; the pause of utter -misery, in which thought itself had no place, but one horrible sensation -of suffering was all that remained of life, passed over her; then a -faint agonised smile fluttered upon her white lips. She drew on her -glove again slowly and with pain. "I must go out, Mary," said Arthur's -mother. "I must do my duty if the world were all breaking up, as I--I -think it is; and you must stay here and tell my poor darling her mother -will come back to her directly. And don't talk to the other servant, -Mary. You shall be like my own child if you will stand by us now." - -"O missis dear, not a word--not if it was to save my life!" said poor -Mary, through her tears. - -And in her bravery and desperation the widow went out to her other -forlorn hope. She went away out of the doors which enclosed at least the -knowledge of this event, through the everyday streets, where, if there -were other tragedies, nobody knew of them any more than of hers. She had -her veil over her face, on which that shadow had settled, and no one -could have suspected her of carrying a broken heart through those -sunshiny ways. She could not think or anticipate or even fear anything -further. Susan might die under that load of shame and anguish, but her -mother apprehended, was sensible of, nothing more. The worst had come, -except for Arthur, who might be helped out of his troubles. So, stunned -and hopeless, she set out to visit Arthur's people, with a courage more -desperate than that of battle. That was the duty which must be done if -the world went to pieces--to talk to Adelaide Tufton and hear her sharp -criticism and bitter gossip--to listen to the old minister dawdling -forth his slow sentiments--to visit the Tozers and soothe their -feelings, and hear what they had to say. An auto-da-fé in the old -Spanish fashion would have been easier, to be sure; but this was how the -minister's mother, in the depths of unknown anguish and calamity, was -expected to exert herself, the only way she could serve her son. - -The parlour in Siloam Cottage was as green and obscure, as warm and -close, as of old. The big geranium had grown, and covered the little -window still more completely, and the fire burned with virulence, -conscious of the frost. The minister's invalid daughter, with the -colourless face and sharp eyes, was still knitting, leaning back upon -her pillows. Poor Mrs. Vincent, when she sat down, as near the door as -possible, feeling as if she could not get breath, became immediately -aware that to confront those eyes was a more dangerous process than any -which she had yet been subjected to in Carlingford. They penetrated -through her, keen with the restless life and curiosity, which made up to -that disabled woman for the privations of her existence. In the dim -green parlour the minister's mother saw nothing but Adelaide Tufton's -eyes. If they had been beautiful eyes the effect would have been less -surprising; but they were not beautiful; they were pale blue, and had -something of the shrill shining of a rainy sky in the glistening white, -which counted for far more than the faint watery colour. Mrs. Vincent -gave way before them as she had never yet done. She cast down her own -eyes, and drew back her chair, and even faltered in her speech, when she -was obliged to face their observation. The danger was all the greater -for being unexpected. As for Mrs. Tufton, that good woman was in a -flutter of interest and sympathy. She wanted to know whether Susan had -gone through all the orthodox number of fevers and youthful ailments, -and was in her element talking of the merits of camphor as a preventive, -and of all the means that might be used to avoid infection. - -"When my children were young, and their papa always being noted for so -active a man among his people, I don't know what I should have done if I -had been easily frightened," said Mrs. Tufton. "Don't worry--keep her -quiet, and give her----" - -"Mrs. Vincent never said she was afraid of infection," said Adelaide. -"Is it typhus fever? My mother jumps at everything, and never stops to -inquire. I daresay it's something quite different. Love affairs? Oh no; -of course we don't want you to tell us. I don't think Phoebe Tozer -will die of her failure. This young man from Homerton will console her. -Has your son recovered his little affair with the young Dowager, Mrs. -Vincent? He dined there, you know. I daresay his head was turned; but -there is one safeguard with those fine ladies. If a man has his wits -about him, he can always know that they mean nothing all the time." - -"Indeed, I don't know what you mean. My son knows Lady Western, I -believe; I remember one time he dined there. My Arthur," said the -mother, with a faint smile, "is not one to have his head turned. He has -been used to be thought a great deal of at home." - -"Ah, he's a precious young man!" said Mr. Tufton, see-sawing the air -with his large grey hand. "I am much interested in my dear young -brother. He thinks too much, perhaps--too much--of pleasing the carnal -mind; and my people, that have been used to practical preaching so long, -find the difference. But when he has deeper experiences----" - -"Stuff!" said the invalid, turning her head half aside; "you know the -chapel has filled since he came. Even when they are asses like your -Salem people, you know they like a man with brains. I don't see that it -matters much what Mr. Vincent goes wrong in; he was sure to go wrong -somehow. I gave him six months, but he has got through the six months, -and they have not killed him off yet. What does he mean, thrusting -himself into other people's messes? As far as I can make out, it's quite -a little tragedy. There was that Mrs. Hilyard, you know--the woman in -Back Grove Street. Ah, you know her!" said Adelaide, keenly, seeing the -little shiver with which the visitor received the name. - -"I have heard my son speak of her," said the widow, faintly. - -"She was some connection of the Bedford family," said Adelaide, going -on, with her curious eyes fixed on Mrs. Vincent's face, who quailed -before her, "and she married a half brother of Lady Western's--a -desperate rascal he was. They had one baby, and then she left him--one -baby, a girl, that has grown up an idiot; and here this lady lives--a -poor needle-woman--to keep the girl safe, somehow, out of her father's -hand. Why he should want to have her I can't exactly tell. I suspect, -because she's pretty, to make a decoy of her, and sell her somehow, -either to be married, or worse----" - -"Adelaide!" cried Mrs. Tufton; "oh, my dear, do mind what you're saying; -Mrs. Vincent does not know you. What can she think if you talk like -that?" - -"Mrs. Vincent sees well enough I am not a girl to be frightened for -words," said the sick woman. "Now, what I want to know is, what has your -son to do with it? He's gone off after them, now, for some reason or -other; of course I don't expect you to tell me. Perhaps Lady Western has -sent him?--never mind, I will find out; but I know it has something to -do with Mrs. Hilyard, for they both went off from Carlingford the same -day. I have no share in life for myself," said Adelaide, with another -keen look at the stranger; "and so, instead of comforting myself that -it's all for the best, as papa says, I interfere with my -fellow-creatures. Oh, pray, don't be sorry for me! I get on as well as -most people. Nobody in this place ever succeeds in concealing anything -from me." - -"Indeed it is a pity when people have anything to conceal," said poor -Mrs. Vincent, thinking, with a sensation of deadly sickness at her -heart, of the awful secret which was in Mary's keeping, and faltering, -in spite of all her self-command. She rose up hurriedly, when she met -once more the glance of those sharp eyes: she could not bear that -investigation; all her dreadful suspense and excitement seemed to ooze -out unawares, and betray themselves; her only safety seemed in flight. - -"This is a very short visit," said Mr. Tufton. "My dear anxious sister, -we can only pray you may be comforted. All things work together for -good; you don't need to be told that. It's sure to be for the best, -whatever happens: take that consolation to your heart--it's sure to be -for the best." - -"If her daughter dies and her son is dismissed, I wonder will that be -for the best?" said Adelaide Tufton, as soon as the widow had left the -room. Mrs. Vincent's ears, made acute by suffering, caught enough of -this valedictory address to realise, if that were possible, an -additional pang. Kind Mrs. Tufton did not hear it, not being in any such -state of feverish susceptibility. She, on the contrary, kissed the -mother, whom she pitied with all her heart, and entreated her not to -worry. "A young healthy girl does not fall ill for nothing. You'll see -things will turn out all right," said the kind soul; and Mrs. Vincent -went upon her forlorn way. - -At Mrs. Tozer's the minister's mother found a little committee -assembled. Mrs. Brown was there from the Devonshire Dairy, and Mrs. -Pigeon, whose gratification in being able to hail Mrs. Vincent as an -acquaintance, to the confusion of the dairywoman and amazement of Mrs. -Tozer, almost restored the minister to that lady's favour. They were in -the drawing-room, where, in honour of the expected visitors, a fire had -been lighted; and as Mrs. Vincent ascended the dark staircase, she -obtained a passing glimpse of Mr. Beecher seated at the table in the -parlour studying "The Railway Guide," which Phoebe expounded to him, -until they were both sent for up-stairs. Altogether the conjunction did -not look promising for Arthur's interests. She went in thrilling with a -touch of exasperation and defiance. Now was the time to make a final -stand for Arthur. This covert rebellion could be deprecated no longer. - -"I expect my son home to-day," said the brave mother, gulping down all -the pangs of her expectation. "I think, now that I see for myself how -much he is thought of in Carlingford, I ought to make an apology to the -Salem people. It was I that induced him to go away, not thinking that -one Sunday would be such a great matter; but indeed it was very -gratifying to me to see how disappointed everybody was. I hope Mr. -Beecher will pardon me, for I am sure he preached us a very nice sermon, -and we were all grateful for it; but, naturally on my dear boy's -account, to see how disappointed everybody was, was a great -gratification to me." - -"Oh! I did not mind," said Mr. Beecher, with a little laugh of -embarrassment; but the young man was much taken aback, and stared with -astonished looks before he answered, at this totally unexpected address. -Having thus floored one of her adversaries, and seeing the female foe -more voluble and ready, quite prepared to answer her, Mrs. Vincent -blandly proceeded. - -"And this, you know, Mrs. Tozer, was all the more gratifying to me, -because I was not quite sure that Arthur had done wisely in choosing -Carlingford. His dear father had so many friends in our denomination, -and people are so kind as to speak of my boy as such a rising young man. -Before I knew Carlingford," said the widow, looking round her with an -air of gentle superiority, "I used to regret my son had not accepted the -invitation from Liverpool. Many people said to me that his talents would -have had so much more room there; but I am reconciled now," she added, -turning her mild eyes upon Mrs. Pigeon, who showed symptoms of -resistance. "I may say I am quite satisfied now. He would have been -better off, and had more opportunity of making himself a position in -Liverpool, but what is that in comparison with the attachment of a -flock?" - -"Well, indeed, that's just the thing, ma'am," said Mrs. Brown, who -imagined herself addressed; "we are fond of him. I always said he was an -uncommon nice young man; and if he was but to settle down----" - -"That will come in time," said the minister's mother, graciously; "and I -am glad, for my part, that he has been away, for it shows me how his -dear people feel towards him; and though he would have been, of course, -better off in Liverpool, I would never consider that in comparison. They -still want to have him, you know, and keep writing me letters, and him -too, I don't doubt; but after what I have seen, I could never advise him -to break the link that has been formed here. The connection between -pastor and people is a sacred tie; it should never be broken," said Mrs. -Vincent, with mild grandeur, "for anything so poor as a money object; -but my dear boy is far above any such consideration as that." - -"Ah!" said Mrs. Pigeon, drawing a long breath of involuntary awe and -admiration; "and I don't doubt as the pastor would have been a deal -better off in Liverpool," she added, after a pause, quite overpowered by -that master-stroke. - -"It's a deal bigger a place," suggested Mrs. Tozer; "and grander folks, -I don't have a doubt," she too added, after an interval. This new idea -took away their breath. - -"But, ah! what is that to affection," said Arthur's artful mother, "when -a minister has the love of his flock! My dear Mrs. Pigeon, though a -mother is naturally anxious for her son, nothing on earth would induce -me to advise him to break such a tie as that!" - -"And indeed, ma'am, it's as a Christian mother should act," gasped the -poulterer's subdued wife. Mrs. Brown made a little movement of admiring -assent, much impressed with the fine sentiments of the minister's -mother. Phoebe put her handkerchief to her eyes, and Mr. Beecher found -it was time for his train. "Tell Vincent I am very glad to have been of -use to him. We were all delighted in 'Omerton to hear of him making such -an 'it," said Mr. Beecher, friendly but discomfited. He made his -leave-taking all round, before Mrs. Vincent, at the height of victory, -rose and went her way. Then she, too, shook hands, and blandly parted -with the astonished women. They remained behind, and laid their heads -together, much subdued, over this totally new light. She departed, -gently victorious. This little demonstration had done her good. When she -got out into the street, however, she fell down again into those depths -of despair out of which she had risen so bravely for Arthur's sake. She -began to plan how she and Susan could go away--not to Lonsdale--never -again to Lonsdale--but to some unknown place, and hide their -shame-stricken heads. She was so weary and sick in her heart, it was -almost a comfort to think of creeping into some corner, taking her poor -darling into her arms, healing those dreadful wounds of hers, hiding her -from the sight of men. This was what they must do as soon as her dearest -child came back--go to Scotland, perhaps, or into the primitive south -country, where nobody knew them, or---- but softly, who was this? - -A new claim upon the overworked anxious soul. At the door of her son's -house stood a carriage--an open carriage--luxurious and handsome, with -two fine horses impatiently pawing the air, and a very fine footman at -the door, talking to the little maid. Within the carriage, the same -beautiful young woman whom Mrs. Vincent remembered to have seen waving a -lovely hand to Arthur. No doubt it was Lady Western. The beauty did not -bewilder Mrs. Vincent as she had bewildered Mrs. Vincent's son; but, -with a thrill of mingled pride, admiration, and disapproval, she -hastened forward at sight of her. Could she be asking for Arthur?--and -could Arthur have ventured to love that lovely creature in her radiance -of wealth and rank? With a mother's involuntary self-delusion Mrs. -Vincent looked at the beautiful vision as at Arthur's possible bride, -and was proud and displeased at the same moment; proud, that anything so -lovely and splendid was to fall to her son's lot--disapproving, that -Arthur's chosen should offer a mark of favour even to Arthur, so much -more decided than accorded with the widow's old-fashioned notion of what -became a woman. Mrs. Vincent did not think of the other figure by Lady -Western's side--a man of great height, very slight, and rapid in his -movements, with a long brown beard, and thoughtful eyes--eyes which -lightened up and became as keen as they were dreamy, whenever occasion -arose. Why should the widow look at him? She had nothing to do with him. -This once in their life they were to come into momentary contact--never -more. - -"Mr. Vincent ain't at home--but oh, look year!--here's his mother as can -tell you better nor me," cried the half-frightened maid at the door. - -"His mother?" said the beautiful creature in the carriage; she had -alighted in a moment, and was by Mrs. Vincent's side--"Oh, I am so glad -to see Mr. Vincent's mother! I am Lady Western--he has told you of me?" -she said, taking the widow's hand; "take us in, please, and let us talk -to you--we will not tease you--we have something important to say." - -"Important to us--not to Mrs. Vincent," said the gentleman who followed -her, a remarkable figure, in his loose light-coloured morning dress; and -his eyes fell with a remorseful pity upon the widow, standing, -drawn-back, and self-restrained, upon the ground of her conscious -misery, not knowing whether to hope that they brought her news, or to -steel herself into a commonplace aspect of civility. This man had a -heart; he looked from the brilliant creature before him, all flushed and -radiant with her own happiness, to the little woman by her side, in her -pitiful widow's dress, in her visible paleness and desperation of -self-control. It was he who had brought Lady Western here to put his own -innocence beyond doubt, but the cruelty of that selfish impulse struck -him now as he saw them stand together. "Important to us--not to Mrs. -Vincent," he said again, taking off his hat to her with devout respect. - -"Ah, yes! to us," said Lady Western, looking up to him with a momentary -gleam of love and happiness. Then the pretty tender-hearted creature -changed her look, and composed her countenance into sympathy. "I am so -sorry for you, dear Mrs. Vincent!" she said, with the saddest voice. At -this the widow on her part started, and was recalled to herself. - -"I am a stranger in Carlingford," said the mild little woman, drawing up -her tiny figure. "I do not know what has procured me this pleasure--but -all my son's friends are welcome to me. I will show you the way -up-stairs," she continued, going up before them with the air of dignity -which, after the hard battles and encounters and bitter wounds of this -day, became the heroic little figure. She sent Mary, who started up in -dismay at her entrance, into another room, and gave Lady Western a -chair, but herself continued standing, always the conservator of -Arthur's honour. If Arthur loved her, who was this man? why did such -glances pass between them? Mrs. Vincent stood erect before Lady Western, -and did not yield even to the winning looks for which poor Arthur would -have given his life. - -"Oh, dear Mrs. Vincent, I am so sorry for you!" said Lady Western again; -"I know it all, and it makes my heart bleed to think of it. I will be -your friend and your daughter's friend as long as I live, if you will -let me. Oh, don't shut your heart against me! Mr. Vincent trusts me, and -so must you; and I am heartbroken to think all that you must have gone -through----" - -"Stop!" said Mrs. Vincent, with a gasp. "I--I cannot tell--what you -mean," she articulated, with difficulty, holding by the table to support -herself, but looking with unflinching eyes in her new persecutor's face. - -"Oh, don't shut your heart against me!" cried the young dowager, with -genuine tears in her lovely eyes. "This gentleman was with Mr. Vincent -yesterday--he came up here this morning. He is--Mr. Fordham." She broke -off abruptly with a terrified cry. But Mrs. Vincent had not died or -fainted standing rigid there before her, as the soft creature thought. -Her eyes had only taken that blank lustreless gaze, because the force of -emotion beneath was too much for them, and inexpressible. Even in that -extremity, it was in the widow's heart, wrung to desperation, to keep -her standing-ground of assumed ignorance, and not to know what this -sudden offer of sympathy could mean. - -"I do not know--the gentleman," she said, slowly, trying to make the -shadow of a curtsy to him. "I am sorry to seem uncivil; but I am tired -and anxious. What--what did you want of me?" she asked, in a little -outburst of uncontrollable petulance, which comforted Lady Western. It -was a very natural question. Surely, in this forlorn room, where she had -passed so many wretched hours, her privacy might have been sacred; and -she was jealous and angry at the sight of Fordham for Arthur's sake. It -was another touch in the universal misery. She looked at Lady Western's -beauty with an angry heart. For these two, who ventured to come to her -in their happiness, affronting her anguish, was Arthur's heart to be -broken too? - -"We wanted--our own ends," said Fordham, coming forward. "I was so cruel -as to think of myself, and that you would prove it was another who had -assumed my name. Forgive me--it was I who brought Lady Western here; and -if either of us can serve you, or your daughter--or your son--" added -Fordham, turning red, and looking round at his beautiful companion---- - -Mrs. Vincent could bear it no longer. She made a hasty gesture of -impatience, and pointed to the door. "I am not well enough, nor happy -enough, to be civil," cried Arthur's mother; "we want nothing--nothing." -Her voice failed her in this unlooked-for exasperation. A few bitter -tears came welling up hot to her eyes. It was very different from the -stupor of agony--it was a blaze of short-lived passion, which almost -relieved, by its sense of resentment and indignation, a heart worn out -with other emotions. Fordham himself, filled with compunction, led Lady -Western to the door; but it was not in the kind, foolish heart of the -young beauty to leave this poor woman in peace. She came back and seized -Mrs. Vincent's trembling hands in her own; she begged to be allowed to -stay to comfort her; she would have kissed the widow, who drew back, -and, half fainting with fatigue and excitement, still kept her erect -position by the table. Finally, she went away in tears, no other means -of showing her sympathy being practicable. Mrs. Vincent dropped down on -her knees beside the table as soon as she was alone, and leaned her -aching, throbbing head upon it. Oh, dreadful lingering day, which was -not yet half gone! Unconsciously groans of suffering, low but repeated, -came out of her heart. The sound brought Mary, with whom no concealment -was possible, and who gave what attendance and what sympathy she might -to her mistress's grievous trouble. Perhaps the work of this dreadful -day was less hard than the vigil to which the mother had now to nerve -her heart. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -WAS it possible that she had slept? A moment ago and it was daylight--a -red sunset afternoon: now the pale half-light, struggling with the black -darkness, filled the apartment. She was lying on the sofa where Mary had -laid her, and by her side, upon a chair within her reach, was some tea -untasted, which Mary must have brought after she had fallen into that -momentary slumber. The fire burned brightly, with occasional little -outbreaks of flame. Such a silence seemed in the house--silence that -crept and shuddered--and to think she should have slept! - -The night had found covert in all the corners, so dark they were; but -one pale line of light came from the window, and the room had a little -ruddy centre in the fire. Mrs. Vincent, in the poignant anguish of her -awakening, grew superstitious; some other breath--some other -presence--seemed in the room besides her own. She called "Mary," but -there was no answer. In her excited condition anything was possible--the -bounds of the living world and the possible seemed gone for ever. She -might see anything--hear anything--in the calm of her desperation. She -got up, and hastily lighted the candle which stood on the table. As she -looked over the little light a great cry escaped her. What was it? -rising darkly, rising slowly, out of the shadows in which it had been -crouching, a huddled indistinct figure. Oh God! not Susan! not her -child! As it rose slowly facing her, the widow cried aloud once more, -and put her hand over her eyes to shut out the dreadful vision. Ghastly -white, with fixed dilated eyes--with a figure dilated and -grandiose--like a statue stricken into marble, raised to grandeur--could -it be Susan who stood there, without a word, without a movement, only -with a blank dark gaze at the horrified woman, who dared not meet those -dreadful eyes? When life rallied in Mrs. Vincent's horror-stricken -heart, she went to the ghastly creature, and put warm arms round it, and -called it Susan! Susan! Had it any consciousness at all, this dreadful -ghost? had it come from another world? The mother kissed it with lips -that woke no answer--held it motionless in her trembling arms. She cried -again aloud--a great outcry--no longer fearing anything. What were -appearances now? If it was Susan, it was Susan dead whom she held, all -unyielding and terrible in her warm human arms. - -Mary heard and came with exclamations of terror and sympathy. They got -her between them to the fire, and chafed her chill hands and feet. -Nobody knew how she had got in, where she had come from; no one was with -her--no one had admitted her. She sat a marble woman in the chair where -they had placed her, unresistant, only gazing, gazing--turning her awful -eyes after her mother. At last she drew some long gasping breaths, and, -with a shudder which shook her entire frame, seemed to come to herself. -"I am Susan Vincent," said the awful ghost. No tears, nor cries, nor -wild pressure of her mother's arms, nor entreaties poured into her cold -ear, could extract any other words. Mrs. Vincent lost her -self-possession: she rushed out of the room for remedies--rung the -bell--called for Arthur in a voice of despair--could nobody help her, -even in this horrible crisis? When she had roused the house she -recollected herself, and shut the door upon the wondering strangers, and -returned once more to her hopeless task. "Oh, Mary! what are we to do? -Oh, Susan, my child, my darling! speak to your poor mother," cried the -widow; but the marble figure in the chair, which was Susan, made no -reply. It began to shiver with dreadful trembling fits--to be convulsed -with long gasping sobs. "I am--Susan--Susan Vincent"--it said at -intervals, with a pitiful iteration. The sight of her daughter in this -frightful condition, coming after all her fatigue and strain of -excitement, unnerved Mrs. Vincent completely. She had locked the door in -her sudden dismay. She was kneeling, clasping Susan's knees--wasting -vain adjurations upon her--driven beyond hope, beyond sense, beyond -capacity. Little rustic Mary had all the weight of the emergency thrown -upon her shoulders. It was she who called to the curious landlady -outside to send for the doctor, and who managed to get Susan put into -her mother's bed. When they had succeeded in laying her down there, a -long interval, that seemed like years, passed before Dr. Rider came. The -bed was opposite the window, through which the pale rays of the -twilight were still trembling. The candle on the other side showed Mrs. -Vincent walking about the room wringing her hands, now and then coming -to the bedside to look at the unconscious form there, rent by those -gasping sobs, uttering those dreadful words. Mary stood crying at the -foot of the bed. As for the widow, her eyes were tearless--her heart in -an intolerable fever of suffering. She could not bear it. She said aloud -she could not bear it--she could not bear it! Then she returned again to -call vainly upon her child, her child! Her strength had given way--she -had spent all her reserves, and had nothing to resist this unexpected -climax of misery. - -It was quite dark when Dr. Rider came. Mary held the candle for him as -he felt Susan's pulse, and examined her wide-open eyes. The doctor knew -nothing about her any more than if he had not been a doctor. He said it -must have been some dreadful mental shock, with inquiring looks at Mrs. -Vincent, who began to recover herself. He put back the heavy locks of -golden brown hair, which had been loosened down from Susan's head, and -said he was afraid there was pressure on the brain. What could he -say?--he knew nothing more about it. He left some simple directions, -said he would send some medicine, and took Mrs. Vincent into a corner to -ask what it was. "Some severe mental shock?" asked Dr. Rider; but, -before she could reply, a cab drove rapidly up to the door, and sounds -of a sudden arrival were audible in the house. "Oh, doctor, thank God, -my son is come--now I can bear it," said the widow. Dr. Rider, who was -of a compassionate nature, waited with pitying eyes till the minister -should come up, and went to take another look at the patient, relieved -to think he could speak to her brother, instead of racking her mother's -heart. Mrs. Vincent grew calm in the sudden consolation of thinking -Arthur at hand. She sat down by the bedside, with her eyes fixed on the -door, yearning for her son, the only living creature from whom she could -have entire sympathy. Was it necessary that they should speak so loudly -as they came up-stairs?--could he be bringing a stranger with him to -Susan's sickroom? Her heart began to beat louder with mingled -expectation and displeasure. It was not like Arthur--and there was no -sound of his voice in the noise that swept up the stair. She rose up -instinctively as the footsteps approached--heavy steps, not like her -son's. Then the door was thrown open. It was not Arthur who stood upon -the dim threshold. It was a stranger in a rough travelling-coat, -excited, resolute, full of his own errand. He made a stride into the -room to the bedside, thrusting Mrs. Vincent aside, not wittingly, but -because she was in his way. Mary stood at the other side with the -doctor, holding up the one pale candle, which threw a flickering light -upon the marble white figure on the bed, and the utter consternation and -surprise in Dr. Rider's face. Mrs. Vincent, too much alarmed and -astonished to offer any resistance, followed the man who had thus -entered into her sanctuary of anguish. He knew what he was doing, though -nobody else did. He went straight forward to the bed. But the sight of -the unconscious figure there appalled the confident stranger. "It is -she, sure enough," he said; "are you a doctor, sir? is the lady taken -ill? I've come after her every step of the way. She's in my custody now. -I'll not give any trouble that I can help, but I must stay here." - -Mrs. Vincent, who scarcely could endure to hear, and did not understand, -rushed forward while he was speaking, and seized him by the arm--"Leave -the room!" she cried with sudden passion--"He has made some impudent -mistake, doctor. God help me!--will you let my child be insulted? Leave -the room, sir--leave the room, I say! This is my daughter, Miss Vincent, -lying here. Mary, ring the bell--he must be turned out of the room. -Doctor, doctor! you are a man; you will never let my child be insulted -because her brother is away." - -"What does it mean?" cried Dr. Rider--"go outside and I will come and -speak to you. Miss Vincent is in a most dangerous state--perhaps dying. -If you know her----" - -"Know her, doctor! you are speaking of my child," cried Mrs. Vincent, -who faced the intruder with blazing eyes. The man held his ground, not -impertinently, but with steadiness. - -"I know her fast enough," he said; "I've tracked her every step of the -way; not to hurt the lady's feelings, I can't help what I'm doing, sir. -It's murder;--I can't let her out of my sight." - -Mrs. Vincent clasped her hands together with a grasp of desperation. -"What is murder?" she said, in a voice that echoed through the room. The -doctor, with an exclamation of horror, repeated the same question. -Murder! it seemed to ring through the shuddering house. - -"It's hard upon a lady, not to say her mother," said the man, -compassionately; "but I have to do my duty. A gentleman's been shot -where she's come from. She's the first as suspicion falls on. It often -turns out as the one that's first suspected isn't the criminal. Don't -fret, ma'am," he added, with a glance of pity, "perhaps it's only as a -witness she'll be wanted--but I must stay here. I daren't let her out of -my sight." - -There was a dreadful pause. Mrs. Vincent looked up at the two men before -her with a heartrending appeal in her eyes. Would anybody tell her what -it meant?--would nobody interfere for Susan? She moaned aloud -inarticulate in her voiceless misery. "And Arthur is not here!" was the -outcry which at last burst from her heart. She was beyond feeling what -this was--her senses were confused with extremity of suffering. She only -felt that another blow had been dealt at her, and that Arthur was not -here to help to bear it. Then the stranger, who had put himself so -horribly in possession of Susan's sickroom, once more began to speak. -The widow could not tell what he said--the voice rang in her ears like a -noise of unmeaning sound, but it stirred her to a flush of female -passion, as violent as it was shortlived. She sprang forward and took -hold of his arm with her white little trembling hand: "Not here--not -here!" cried the mother in her passion. With her feeble force excited -into something irresistible, she put the astonished stranger out of the -room before he knew what she was doing. If an infant had done it the man -could not have been more utterly astonished. Outside, the people of the -house were standing in an excited group. She thrust the dreadful -messenger of justice out with those hands that shook with tremors of -anguish and weakness. She shut the door upon him with all her feeble -strength, locked it, put a chair against it; then she stumbled and fell -as she stretched out for another--fell down upon her knees, poor soul! -and remained so, forgetting, as it seemed, how she came there, and -gradually, by instinct, putting together the hands which trembled like -leaves in the wind--"Lord, Lord!" cried the mother, hovering on the wild -verge between passion and insensibility. She called Him by name only as -utter anguish alone knows how; she had nothing to tell Him; she could -only call upon Him by His name. - -Dr. Rider took the half-insensible form up in his arms and carried her -to the bedside, where Susan still lay motionless with her eyes wide -open, in an awful abstraction and unconsciousness. He put Mrs. Vincent -tenderly into the chair, and held the hands that shook with that palsied -irrestrainable tremor. "No one can bring her to life but you," said the -doctor, turning the face of the miserable mother towards her child. "She -has kept her senses till she reached you; when she was here she no -longer wanted them; she has left her life in your hands." He held those -hands fast as he spoke; pressed them gently, but firmly; repeated his -words over again. "In your hands," said the doctor once more, struck to -his heart with horror and pity. Susan's bare beautiful arm lay on the -coverlid, white, round, and full, like marble. The doctor, who had never -seen the fair Saxon girl who was Mrs. Vincent's daughter a week ago, -thought in his heart that this full developed form and face, rapt to -grandeur by the extremity of woe, gave no contradiction to the -accusation he had just heard with so much horror. That week had -obliterated Susan's soft girlish innocence and the simplicity of her -eighteen years. She was a grand form as she lay there upon that -bed--might have loved to desperation--fallen--killed. Unconsciously he -uttered aloud the thought in his heart--"Perhaps it would be better she -should die!" - -Then the mother rose. Once more her painful senses came back to the -woman who was still the minister's mother, and, even in this hideous -dream of misery, had not forgotten the habits of her life. "When my son -comes he will settle it all," said Mrs. Vincent. "I expect him--any -time--he may come any minute. Some one has made--a mistake. I don't know -what that man said; but he has made--a mistake, doctor. My son, Mr. -Vincent, will see to all that. It has nothing to do with us. Tell me -what we are to do for my child. Cut off her hair? Oh, yes, yes, -anything! I don't mind it, though it is a sacrifice. She has had--a--a -great fright, doctor. She could not tell me particulars. When her -brother comes home, we will hear all--" said the widow, looking with a -jealous gaze in his eyes to see if he believed her. The scene altogether -overcame Dr. Rider. He turned away and went to the other side of the -room, and took a glass of water from the table before he could answer -her or meet that appeal. Then he soothed her as he best could with -directions about Susan. He went away immediately to come back in an -hour, if perhaps there might be any change--so he said; but, in reality, -he wanted to escape, to hear this dreadful story, to think what was -best. Friendless, with nobody near to protect them, and the officer of -justice waiting at the door, what were these women to do? perhaps death -waited closer than the visible messenger of fate. Would it be well to -stay that more merciful executioner on his way? - -The doctor found the officer outside the door, waiting, not without -pity, at his post. He heard what was this man's version of the strange -tragedy--strange, and yet not unfamiliar to human ears. The young woman -had been betrayed and ruined. In wild vengeance and misery she had -seized one of her seducer's pistols and shot him through the head--such -was the story. And now she had fled from the scene of the murder, -tracked step by step by the avenger. The whole house was in a tumult, as -may be supposed. The indignant landlady, who was a member of Salem, -could scarcely be prevented going into the jealously-closed room and -turning out the unhappy criminal. Another lodger, a nervous woman, had -already collected her goods to fly from the place. Outside, some -mysterious instinct had collected a few people about the door of the -hitherto irreproachable house, which imagination magnified into a -crowd. Already Tozer had set out from his shop, red with anger, to -inquire into this incipient excitement, which nobody could explain. And -still Arthur had not appeared to stand by the miserable women in this -horrible climax of fate. - -When the doctor went back to the room where Susan was, he found Mrs. -Vincent in a state of agitated activity. Mary and she were flitting -about the room, moving lights before Susan's eyes, making what noises -they could with the furniture, keeping a fantastic commotion about the -bed. "She stirred, doctor, and we were trying to rouse her," said the -widow, who had put everything but Susan's bodily extremity from her eyes -at the moment. The doctor, who was desperate, and whose heart was moved, -resorted to desperate measures. He gathered them about the bed, set Mrs. -Vincent to support the insensible form, and raising that white marble -arm which had developed into such glorious proportion, touched the -swollen blue vein with his lancet. The touch acted like magic. In -another moment she had struggled up out of her mother's grasp, and -thrown out the arm, from which the blood flowed, up above her head: the -crimson stream caught her wild eye as she raised her arm in the air. A -convulsive shudder shook her frame. She threw herself over on her face -with a cry of horror, far more than a match, in her strength of youth -and passion, for the agitated arms that held her. "Mother, mother, -mother! it is his blood! it is his life!" cried that despairing voice. -The confused bed, the convulsed frame, the flowing blood, all pitifully -lighted up by Mary's candle, made up of themselves a scene like murder; -and Dr. Rider vainly tried to forget the dreadful words which forced -upon his mind their untimely testimony. He shuddered at the touch of -that white woman's hand as he bound up the wounded arm. He withdrew his -eyes from the pallid grandeur of the stricken face. In spite of himself, -horror mingled with his pity. A heavier stain was upon her than those -crimson traces on her pearly skin. Other words followed in an incoherent -stream. Fever of the heart and brain, burning up into consuming frenzy, -had seized upon this lost creature, who was no longer a girl or -innocent. Ere long they had to send for nurses, to restrain her -delirium. She, raving with a wild madness which betrayed in every -wandering exclamation the horror upon her soul, lay desperate in the -room which had enclosed for so many lingering hours her mother's anguish -of suspense and fear. In an adjoining room, the man who had followed her -to this refuge still waited, watchful yet pitiful, intent that his -prisoner should not escape him. While outside a few gazers lingered, -looking up at the lights in the windows, with a strange perception that -something unusual had happened, though nobody knew what it was. Such was -the scene upon which Arthur Vincent, not unwarned, yet incredulous, came -suddenly with eyes of horror and wild indignation as he reached his own -door. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -WHEN Vincent was set down, in the darkness and silence of the Sunday -night, in the Dover railway station, it was some minutes before he could -collect himself, and understand where he was. He had fallen into a -feverish sleep during the journey, little as he could have supposed -himself capable of sleeping at such a moment; but he was young, and -unused to the ceaseless fatigue and excitement and total want of rest -which had obliterated for him the natural distinction between night and -day. While his fellow-passengers trooped away with all the bustle and -excitement of travellers, who had then only completed the first stage of -their journey, to the pier and the night-boat which waited to carry them -across the Channel, he, whom various porters and attendants stimulated -with adjurations to make haste, and warnings that he would be late, -stumbled out into the dark, collecting his faculties, and trying to -think what he must do first. He was giddy and feverish with that -insufficient snatch of sleep which had lost him the time in which he -might have been laying his plans. But when he got outside the station -into the unknown place, into the gloom of night, and heard the "moanings -of the homeless sea" sounding sullen against the unseen shore, -recollection and energy came back to him. That very sound, booming -through the darkness, inspired Susan's brother. He thought of her -forlorn, desolate, succourless, a weary wanderer seeking rest and -finding none, shrouded up in darkness and danger, lost in the mysterious -gloom--such was the sentiment of the night. The minister went on rapidly -to the town, with its restless lights, through which everybody seemed to -be passing towards the unseen sea. Should he follow with the stream, or -should he stop at the hotel of which Mary had told him? He quickened his -steps as he reached the open door of the inn, and plunged in to make -rapid inquiries. Nobody knew either Colonel Mildmay or Mr. Fordham, but -the party which he described had been there, and had left only an hour -before--not for the boat, the attendants thought: but the boat was -ringing its bells through the night; and if by chance they had gone -there, no time was to be lost. He rushed from the inn as fast as his -wearied limbs could carry him to the pier, where the lookers-on stood -aside out of his way, recognising his excitement. He went through among -all the passengers with the rough captain and his lantern, having -briefly explained to that functionary what he wanted. But they were not -there. When he had satisfied himself, he left the boat, and stood with -suspicious reluctance, unwilling to lose sight of it, on the pier, and -watched the coloured lamp on the mast of the steamer gradually gliding -through the darkness out of the sheltering harbour, till it began to -plunge and heave on the unseen sea. Then he took his troubled way back -to the inn. It was very late, and all the population seemed to -disappear out of the streets, with the little attendant crowd which had -been waiting upon the last event of the day, the departure of this -night-boat. The inn itself looked half asleep, and was half closed when -he returned. No further arrivals, no incidents in the shape of trains or -boats, were to be looked for till the morning. It was the first time -that Arthur had encountered this compulsory pause of night. He struggled -against it for some time, questioning the waiters, and gleaning some -particulars which did but increase his anxiety, but the waiters -themselves were sleepy, and all the world around had closed itself up in -utter quietness and rest. - -Vincent went out again, but he could get admittance nowhere, save at the -office of the police, where he went in desperation to ask the services -of some one skilful in such inquiries. He found this not without -difficulty, but nothing was to be done that night. He had to go back to -the hotel to consent to the necessary rest for which, notwithstanding -the fever of his mind, his worn-out frame craved. Weariness, indeed, had -gradually overpowered and absorbed him--stronger than anxiety, more -urgent even than his love for his sister, was this present and -over-powering exhaustion which began to occupy all his thoughts. Though -he struggled with it he could not but feel in his heart, with a certain -guilt, how this overwhelming desire to throw himself down somewhere and -rest possessed him to the exclusion of more worthy impulses. After he -had ordered some refreshment, of which, indeed, he stood as much in -need, the young man threw himself upon a sofa, and there fell into a -deep sleep of utter weariness. He could do no more. He slept as youth -must sleep, were it on the edge of a precipice, were it at the deathbed -of its dearest friend. The very waiter who brought in the food he had -ordered, took pity upon the worn-out slumberer. The man heaped up the -fire, and covered Vincent with his railway wrapper before he withdrew; -and it was not till morning that the young minister awoke out of that -profound slumber--awoke chilled and aching, and confused, in the dark, -with the untouched meal still on the table, the candle flaming in its -socket, and he himself totally unaware how long he had been asleep. - -In the interval that elapsed before the first sounds of awakening life -in the house, he had time to collect himself, and when he went -down-stairs to the coffee-room, still in the dark of the winter morning, -had regained more command of himself and his powers than at any previous -moment since this misery came upon him. - -But it was still so early that the fire was scarcely alight, and he had -to wait for the cup of coffee he ordered. Vincent went to the window, as -was natural--a large window looking into the dark street, faintly -lighted with lamps, which somehow burned less bright in the chill of the -morning than they did at night. Looking out vaguely, yet with the -vigilance of anxiety, without being able to discriminate anything except -here and there a dark figure passing in the darkness, the young man -waited with his face close to the uncurtained panes. There was nothing -in that blank undecipherable street to interest him, and yet he gazed -out mechanically in the anxious pre-occupation of his mind. When the -attendant came into the room with his coffee, his attention was -temporarily distracted. He got up to go to the table where breakfast was -being arranged for him; but, as he rose, his eye was caught by the gleam -of a passing face, ghastly white in the darkness, looking in. Before he -could draw breath, the apparition was gone. Without saying a word to the -astonished waiter, who began to think him mad, Vincent dashed out after -this vanished vision. Two female figures were visible a little further -on in the gloomy street. He pursued them with breathless, noiseless -speed, and grasped at the arm of a terrified woman who, gasping with -sudden fright, turned upon him a face he had never seen before. Nobody -else was to be seen in any direction. The minister made an inarticulate -apology, and turned back to search for some opening or passage through -which that face could have disappeared. It was no fancy of his that -painted that pale countenance upon the darkness--the same face that he -had seen in the railway carriage following Colonel Mildmay--the same, -but with a new look of horror and desperation in its eyes. The young man -investigated, as he thought, every doorway, every corner which could -have given shelter to such a fugitive. He returned, excited and -agitated, to the inn, to ask if there was any passage through the line -of houses which he might have overlooked, but could hear of none. It was -on his lips to ask if they had heard of any crime or accident during -the night--any--murder; but prudence restrained the incautious -utterance. He went out with the wildest agitation in his mind; something -had happened. Mrs. Hilyard's face, gleaming in unconscious at the -window, betrayed to him much more clearly than any confession, that some -new and awful event had been added to that woman's strange experiences -of life; and in the darkness he had been aware of some shadowy figure -beside her, accompanying her ghostly way. Perhaps her child--perhaps--could -it be Susan? The young man went out, not knowing where he went, into the -darkness of the winter morning; he hastened to the pier, to the railway, -startling the half-awakened people about, but nowhere could either see -or hear of her. Could it be a delusion? but the wildest imagination in -the world could not have inspired with such a new horror of expression -the eyes that gleamed out of that ghastly pale face. - -The grey daylight had just got final mastery of the dark, when Vincent -met the man whom he had employed the night before to help him in his -inquiries. This agent, more skilful than the minister, had found out the -cab-driver who conveyed the party from the hotel on the previous -evening. Colonel Mildmay seemed to have made the precipitate retreat of -a man suddenly startled and frightened out of his plans. The cabman gave -a detailed account of the strange conduct of his fare. "We was a-going -to the pier to the Ostend steamer, sir," said the driver, "when I was -pulled up sharp, and got my directions to turn about sudden and go to -the railway. There was a lady as I see keeping her eye on us, -a-standing by the pier gates with her bag in her hand; but it was dark, -and she couldn't have seen who was in the cab. The same occurred, sir, -as we came up to the railway. I don't say as I see the lady there--but -sure enough I was pulled up second time, and ordered out along the -Folkestone road, a matter o' three mile or so. Then I was turned back -again; and the end of all was that I took them to the Swan in Walmer -Street, as is a place where there's well-aired beds and chops, and that -style o' thing. That ain't the style of thing as is done in the Lord -Warden. To take a fare, and partic'lar along with ladies, from the one -of them places to the other, looks queer--that's what it does; it looks -very queer, sir. It made me take a deal of notice. Gen'leman tall, -light-haired, hook nose, awful swell to look at. Ladies, one on 'em -pretty tall, one little; pretty creatures, but dreadful skeared as far -as I could see. The little one had a blue veil. That's them, sir; -thought as I was right." - -"And you can take me to the place?" said Vincent. - -"Jump into my cab, and I'll have you there, sir, in five minutes," said -the man. - -The minister sprang into the cab alone. He no longer wanted the aid of a -stranger; the darkling streets seemed to glide past him, and not he past -them, as he dashed on at last to find his sister, this time there could -be no mistake. After they had threaded several obscure streets, the -driver came to a sudden pause, got off his box, and touched his hat -with an alarmed look. "I can't drive up to the very 'ouse, sir--there's -a crowd around the door; they do say as something has happened. I hope -it ain't to any of your friends?" said the cabman. Vincent flung the -door open as he was speaking, and rushed out. A horrified and excited -crowd was besieging the door of the shabby public-house to which he had -been brought. Seeing his hasty arrival, and the passionate anxiety in -his eyes, the crowd gave way before him, recognising his right of entry; -the very policeman at the door yielded to him in the force of his -passion. "What is it?" he cried, aware of putting away some women and -babies from the door with mechanical kindness, but unconscious that he -had stumbled up the steps like a man in a dream, and was demanding an -answer to his question with an almost wild vehemence. The question was -answered by a dozen eager voices. It was murder--murder! He could make -out nothing but the word in the confusion of many speakers and of his -own mind. Nobody opposed his entrance or asked what business he had -there. He sprang up the stairs in two or three steps, pressed forward to -a half-open door, within which he saw some people assembled, and, -unawares thrusting aside a man who stopped him, went into that chamber -of death. Several people were around the bed--one, a surgeon, occupied -with the prostrate figure there. Vincent, over the heads of the -spectators, gazed with burning eyes at this horrible spectacle. Susan -herself, whom he did not expect to find there, nor could associate in -any way with such a scene, faded out of his mind as he gazed with -haggard face and horror-stricken soul at the shattered head, bound up in -bloody-bandages, scarce recognisable except by sharp eyes of love or -hate, which rested on that mean pillow. He asked no questions for the -moment. To him alone the business needed no explanation. He was not even -surprised--he stood gazing in a momentary trance of horror at the -lamentable sight. It was a wretched room, shabby and meagre, such a -place as only terror could have driven Mildmay to. Villain as he was, -his punishment had begun before that pistol-shot brought it to a -climax--even in his success he had been conscious that she would keep -her word. - -The policeman at the door touched Vincent on the sleeve, just as he -turned from the dreadful spectacle before him. "Nobody is allowed in -here but for a good reason," said this man, gazing suspiciously at the -stranger; "unless you knows something about it, or have come to identify -the poor gentleman, or are of some use somehow, I can't let you stay -here." - -"I do not wish to stay here," said Vincent, turning away with a shudder. -"I want to see the ladies who were with him. Yes, I know who he is--but -I am not a friend of his; I have nothing to do with the matter. Where -are the ladies who were with him? Miss Vincent," said the minister with -a pang, "and--and Miss Mildmay. I have come to take them away." - -"The ladies as were with him? Oh, it's them as you're awanting; perhaps -you'll stop a minute and talk to the inspector," said the policeman. -"The ladies as were with him? Maybe you can tell the inspector -something as will help justice? You didn't know the reason as brought -out two young women a-travelling with a gen'leman, did you? They'll want -all the friends they can collect afore all's done. You come this way -with me." - -It was a relief to get out of sight of that which horrified yet -fascinated his eyes. Vincent followed the man into another room without -observing the evident suspicion with which he was regarded. "Where are -they?" he asked again. "I have a cab below. This is not a place for -women. I have come to take them away. Where are the people of the house? -What do you mean by keeping your hand on me? I want Miss Vincent. Do you -hear me? I have nothing to do with Colonel Mildmay. He has plenty of -friends to avenge him. I want my sister. Where is she? Call the people -of the house." - -Vincent threw off the policeman's hand from his arm, and, looking for a -bell, rang violently. He was too much horror-stricken, and too secure of -finding Susan, weeping and helpless in some corner, to show any of the -passionate eagerness with which he had started on his search. Little -doubt she was there, poor lost soul. He shrank from meeting with her, -now that the meeting was so near; and his thoughts went after that other -desperate wretched woman, flying--who could tell where?--in despair and -darkness. The house was in utter disorder, as was natural; none of its -humble occupants being capable, at the present exciting moment, of -attending to their usual duties. Vincent rang the bell again, till it -pealed and echoed through the place. Then he bethought himself, with a -natural shudder, of the death-chamber close by. He turned to the man by -his side, with an instinctive involuntary curiosity. "Is any one -suspected?" said the minister, feeling his face grow pale with a -dreadful consciousness of the secret which he shared. But before he -could hear the answer, his second summons had brought up the terrified -mistress of the house, attended half way up the stair by a throng of -curious women. He went hurriedly to meet her at the door. - -"Where are the ladies?" said the minister. "I have just heard that my -sister was brought here last night. Tell her I am here. Take me to her. -Don't be alarmed. You know what I mean? The two ladies--young ladies who -came here with Colonel Mildmay last night--where are they? Good heavens! -do you not understand what I mean?" - -"The young ladies, sir?" faltered the landlady, gasping and looking at -the man who still kept by Vincent's side. "Oh, Lord bless us! The young -ladies----" - -"Make haste and let them know I am here," said Vincent, gradually -growing more and more anxious. "I will undertake to produce them if they -are wanted as witnesses. Where are they?--where is my sister? I tell you -she is my sister. I have come for her. Tell Miss Vincent. Surely I am -speaking plain English," said the young man, with a flush of sudden -dread. "The elder one, Miss Vincent--you understand me? Let her know -that I am here." - -"His sister! Oh, Lord bless us; and he don't know no more than the -unborn," cried the woman of the house. "Oh, Lord! p'liceman, can't you -tell the poor gentleman? His sister! oh, that's worse than ever, that -is. Some poor young thing as has been beguiled and led astray. Lord -bless us! don't look at me o' that way. I ain't to blame. Oh, gracious -me, that I should have to tell the gentleman, and you standing there! -Oh, sir, it's her as has done it. She's gone away from here afore break -of day. I don't blame her; oh, I don't blame her; don't look o' that -dreadful way at me. He's drove her to it with bad usage. She'll have to -suffer for it; but I don't blame her. I don't blame her if it was my -last word in life." - -Vincent felt his tongue cleave to his mouth. He was stunned; he did not -know what he said--what he was hearing. "Blame her? whom? for what?" he -said, with a mechanical effort. He seemed to himself to be suddenly -engulfed in some horrible cloud, but he did not know what it meant. - -"Oh, Lord! don't look o' that dreadful way at me; she's gone off from -here as soon as she done it," cried the woman. "She had that much sense -left, poor soul. He's drove her mad; he's drove her to it. My man says -it can't be brought in no worse than manslaughter----" - -"You don't understand me," Vincent broke in; "you are talking of the -criminal. Who are you talking of?--but it does not matter. I want Miss -Vincent. Do you hear me?--the young lady whom he brought here last -night. Where is my sister? Gone away before daybreak! You mean the -criminal, but I want my sister. Susan! take me to where she is. She had -nothing to do with it. I will give you anything--pay you anything, only -take me to where she is." - -He moved towards the door as he spoke, half believing that, if he could -but hold out and refuse to credit this horror, Susan might still be -found. "Lord bless us! the poor young gentleman's gone out of his -senses," cried the landlady. "Let him go through all the house if that's -what he wants. There ain't nothing to conceal in my house. I'll take you -to the room as they were in--she and the other one. This way, sir. They -hadn't nothing with them but two little bags, so there wasn't much to -leave; but such as it is, being her night-things, is there. She wasn't -thinking of bags, nor any of her little comforts, when she went away. -Here, sir; walk in here." - -The woman took him to a room up-stairs, where Vincent followed her -mechanically. The room had evidently been occupied a very short time -before. Upon a chair, open, with the contents only half thrust in, was a -travelling-bag, which the minister recognised at once--a piece of family -property dreadful to see in such a place. Susan had been putting her -things away with the orderly instinct of her mother's daughter when this -sudden shock of terror came upon her. "Do you mean to tell me that it is -she who has gone away," said Vincent, with a look of incredulous wonder -and appeal--"she--Susan Vincent, my sister? Take time to think. It was -not she--somebody else. Tell me where she is----" - -"Oh, sir, don't say anything as may come against her," cried the -landlady. "It's nobody but her, poor soul, poor soul. If it was possible -to think as it could be another, I would--but there was nobody else to -do it. As soon as we heard the shot and the groan the master got up. He -met her on the stair, sir, if you'll believe me, like a woman as was -walking in her sleep. He was that struck he daren't say a word to her. -He let her pass by him and go out at the door--and when he went into the -gentleman's room and found him there a-dying, she was gone clean off, -and couldn't be heard of. Folks say as my husband should have stopped -her, but it wasn't none of his business. Oh, sir, don't say nothing -as'll put them on her track! There's one man gone off after her -already--oh, it's dreadful!--if you'll be advised by me, you'll slip out -the back way, and don't come across that policeman again. If she did -kill him," cried the weeping landlady, "it was to save herself, poor -dear. I'll let you out the back way, if you'll be guided by me." - -The horror of this accusation had come home to Vincent's mind at last. -He saw, as if by a sudden flash of dreadful enlightenment, not guilt -indeed, or its awful punishment, but open shame--the disgrace of -publicity--the horrible suspicions which were of themselves more than -enough to kill the unhappy girl. He made a great effort to speak, but -could not for the moment. He thrust in the white soft garments which -were hanging out of it, into that familiar bag, which somehow gave him a -pang more acute than all the terrible news he was hearing. He had -travelled with it himself on innocent boyish journeys, had seen it in -his mother's innocent hands--and now to find it in this shuddering -atmosphere of crime and mystery! He too shuddered as he roused himself -to speak. "Hush--hush," said Vincent, "you mistake, my sister has -nothing to do with it; I--I can prove that--easily," said the minister, -getting the words out with difficulty. "Tell me how it all -happened--when they came here, what passed; for instance----" He paused, -and his eye caught another evidence of the reality of his horrible -position. It was the blue veil which he had followed and described, and -looked for through all these weary hours. He took it up in his hand, -crushing it together with an almost ungovernable impulse of rage, from -where it had been thrown down on the shabby carpet. "For instance," said -Susan's brother, restraining himself, "where is the girl who wore this? -You said Miss Vincent went away alone--where was the other? was she left -behind--is she here?" - -The policeman had followed them up into the room in natural curiosity -and suspicion. The landlady's husband had sworn that Susan left the -house by herself. Then, where was the girl? The fugitive had been -tracked to the railway, the policeman said; but she was alone. Nobody -had thought before of her helpless companion. The inspector arrived -while they were going over the house trying if it were possible to find -any traces of this forlorn creature. Vincent was much too profoundly -concerned himself to keep silence about the mysterious movements of the -woman whom he had seen on his way to Dover--whom he had seen that very -morning in the darkness--whom he knew to be the bitterest enemy of the -murdered man. It was only when he described her--when he tried to -collect all the information he had ever had about her for the guidance -of justice--that he saw how little he knew of her in reality. His very -description was tinged with a touch of fancy; and in this frightful -emergency he perceived, for the first time, how much his imagination had -supplied of the interest he felt in this woman. When he had done all it -was possible to do to set the pursuer on her track, and gathered all he -could of the supposed proofs against Susan, he left the place where he -could do nothing further. He had to describe himself fully--to prove his -identity by a reference to the Dissenting minister of the place, and -explain whence he had come and whither he was going, before the officers -in charge of the house, although conscious that they had no grounds for -detaining him, would let him go. But he was permitted to leave at last. -While he waited for the next train to Carlingford, he questioned the -cabman, who could give but a very faint and indistinct description of -the lady whom he had seen at the pier-gates, whose appearance had -stopped Colonel Mildmay in the prosecution of his journey. She was -standing under a lamp, the man said: the gentleman might see her, but he -didn't think as she could see him; but dim as the vision was, this was -another little link in the chain of evidence. If it did but vindicate -Susan--save her, not from the penalty, but from the very shadow and -suspicion of such a horror! It was this which filled the minister's -mind with every sort of frightful apprehension. To have Susan's name -exposed to such a horrible publicity--to have such a scene, such a crime -anyhow connected with his sister--the idea shook Vincent's mind utterly, -and almost disabled him from thought at all. And where was she, poor -horror-stricken fugitive? He scarcely dared hope that she had gone to -her mother. Sudden death, madness, any misery, seemed possible to have -overtaken the unhappy girl thus suddenly reft out of the peacefulness of -her youth into circumstances so horrible. When he entered Carlingford, -late at night, it was with insupportable pangs of suspense and alarm -that he looked into the faces he met on the lighted streets. Were they -looking at him already with a consciousness that some frightful shadow -enveloped him? Tozer's shop was already shut--earlier than usual, -surely--and two or three people stood talking at the open door, clearly -visible against the gaslight, which still burned bright within. Farther -up, opposite his own house, two or three passengers had stopped to look -up at the lighted windows. When Vincent thrust aside a lad who happened -to be in his way, asking, with uncontrollable irritation, what he wanted -there, the door opened suddenly at the sound of his voice. All was -excited and confused within--common life, with its quiet summonses and -answers, was over there. Wild confusion, agitation, reproach, surrounded -the unfortunate minister. His landlady came forward to meet him, to -bewail her own misfortune, and upbraid him with the wrong he had done -her. "I took in the pastor for a lodger, because he was sure to be -steady and respectable, and this is what he has brought to me!" cried -the hysterical woman. "What is the meaning of all this?" cried Vincent, -looking round him with restrained fury, but he did not wait for an -answer. He went up to his rooms to know the worst. As he rushed -breathless up-stairs, loud outcries of delirium reached him. In his -horror and anguish he could not recognise the voice--was it his mother -who had given way under the terrible burden? He dashed open the door of -the sitting-room in which he had spent so many quiet hours--neither -mother nor sister were there; instead of them a rough-featured man, in a -blue travelling-coat, and Tozer, flushed and argumentative, standing by -the table. Vincent had not time to ask what the controversy was that was -going on between the two. The butterman grasped his hand with an almost -violent pressure, and took the stranger's arm. "Beg your pardon for -being in your room, Mr. Vincent, but me and this gentleman has a little -business. I'll be back presently and explain," said the good deacon, -with a compassionate look at the young man, whose weary eyes sought with -instinctive suspicion that unknown face. "I'm your friend, Mr. -Vincent-- I always was; I'm not one as will desert a friend in trouble," -said Tozer, with another shake of his hand, lowering his voice. Then he -disappeared with his strange companion. The minister was alone with -those cries, with this agitation. He threw himself down in momentary -despair. The worst, it appeared, had happened--the horror had travelled -before him. He gave up everything in the anguish of that moment. There -seemed to be no use for any further struggle. To this sensitive, -spotless, inexperienced household, suspicion was worse than death. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -WHEN Vincent came to himself, and began to see clearly the true horrors -of his position, his mind, driven to its last stronghold, rallied -convulsively to meet the worst. It was Susan who was raving close by; -but her brother, in the sickening despair of his heart, had not the -courage to go into that agitated sick-room. He sat waiting for Tozer's -return with a sense of helplessness, a sense of irritation, against -which he had no strength to contend. In that bitter moment he gave up -everything, and felt himself no longer capable of striving against his -fate. He felt in his heart that all Carlingford must already be -discussing the calamity that had come upon him, and that his innocent -honourable name was already sullied by the breath of the crowd; and, -with a strange mixture of intolerance and eagerness, he waited the -return of the man who had first, as it appeared, thrust himself into the -secret--a man whom the minister must not affront, must not defy, on -peril of all he had in the world. These few silent moments were more -terrible to Vincent than any that had gone before them. Was it any good -holding out, attempting to keep a brave face to the world, struggling -against this crushing blow?--or would it not be easiest to give in, to -drop the useless arms, to fly from the inevitable downfall? Some corner -of the earth there surely remained where he could hide his head and find -a shelter for the two poor women who were greater sufferers than he. It -was with such feelings that he awaited the return of Tozer--feelings -aggravated by the consciousness that somehow the butterman was engaged -in his service at this very moment, and by a shadowy and unexpressed -suspicion in his mind as to the character of the stranger whom Tozer had -taken away. The excellent deacon returned at last with looks of -conscious importance. He was very sorry and anxious, but he could not -help looking confidential, and standing a little higher upon the ground -of this mystery, which nobody shared but himself. Once more he shook -hands with Vincent, sympathetically, and with a grasp full of meaning. - -"The thing for us to do is to keep it quiet--to keep it quiet, sir," -said Tozer, lowering his voice as he spoke. "Nothing must be said about -it--no more nor can be helped, Mr. Vincent. As far as it has gone, -there's nobody as has heard but me. If it could be kept private from the -Salem folks," continued the butterman, taking a seat at the table, and -looking cautiously round him, as if to make sure that no one was within -hearing, "it would be for the best. Them women do make such a talk about -everything. Not to tell a falsehood, sir, as I wouldn't, not to save my -own, if so be as my own could be in such a position--we'll say as your -sister's took bad, sir, that's what we'll say. And no lie neither--hear -to her, poor soul!-- But, Mr. Vincent," said Tozer, drawing closer, and -confiding his doubt in a whisper, "what she says is best not to be -listened to, if you'll take my advice. It ain't to be built upon what a -poor creature says in a fever, but them sort of words and screechings -don't come out of nothing but a troubled mind. She was aggravated -awful--so the man tells me." - -"Who was the man?" asked Vincent, hurriedly. - -"The man? oh!--which man was you meaning, sir?" asked Tozer, with a -little fright, recurring to his more generous intention of keeping this -intruder altogether from the knowledge of the minister; "nobody in -particular, Mr. Vincent--nobody as is worth mentioning. One as was sent -to inquire--that's all. I've cleared him away out of the road," said the -butterman, not without some natural complacency: "there ain't no matter -about him. Don't ask me no more, Mr. Vincent, for it's losing time as is -precious. If there's anything as can be done, it's best to do it -directly. I'd speak to John Brown as is the cleverest attorney in -Carlingford, sir, if I was you. She's young, and, as I was saying, she -was aggravated awful. She might be got off." - -"Hush!" said Vincent, who had to put a desperate curb upon himself, lest -the restrained rage with which he heard this implication of guilt should -burst out; "you think there is something in this horrible business--that -my sister has something to do with it. It is all a frightful -delusion--an infernal----" - -"Mr. Vincent, sir, you mustn't swear. I'm as sorry for you as a man can -be; but you're a minister, and you mustn't give way," said Tozer. "If -there ain't nothing in it, so much the better; but I'm told as the -evidence is clean again' her. Well, I won't say no more; it's no -pleasure to me to think of a young creature, and a minister's daughter, -with a mother like what she's got, going any ways astray--far the -contrary, Mr. Vincent: your own father, if he was living, couldn't be -more sorry than me. But my advice is, keep quiet, and don't let anything -get out no more nor can be helped. I don't mean to say as it can be -altogether kep' quiet--that ain't in the nature of things; nor I don't -mean to make you suppose as all is likely to go smooth, and no fault -found. There's pretty sure to be some unpleasantness, one way or -another; and the only thing as I can see is just to put up with it, and -stand your ground, and do your duty all the same. And I for one will -stand by you, sir," said Tozer, rising to his feet with a little glow of -conscious generosity and valour, and shaking the hand of the poor young -minister with cordial kindness--"I'll stand by you, sir, for one, -whatever happens; and we'll tide it out, Mr. Vincent, that's what we'll -do, sir, if you can but hold on." - -"Thank you," said poor Vincent, moved to the heart--"thank you. I dare -not think how it is all to end, but thank you all the same; I shall not -forget what you say." - -"And tell your mother," continued Tozer, swelling to a little triumph in -his own magnanimity--"tell your mother as I said so; tell her as I'll -stand by you through thick and thin; and we'll pull through, we'll pull -through!" said the butterman, slowly disappearing, with a face radiant -with conscious bounty and patronage, through the open door. - -Vincent had followed him with an instinct of civility and gratitude. -Just as Tozer withdrew, a fresh burst of outcry came from the sick-room, -ringing through the excited house. The deacon turned round half-way down -the stair, held up his hands, listened, and made a movement of wondering -pity towards the closed door which hid Susan, but did not keep in her -cries. The wretched minister drew back from that compassionate gesture -as if some one had struck him a blow. He went back and threw himself -down on the sofa, and covered his face with his hands. The pity and the -patronage were the last drop of humiliation in his bitter cup. Hot tears -came to his eyes; it seemed to him more than flesh and blood could bear. - -Some time elapsed, however, before Vincent had the courage to meet his -mother. When those dreadful outcries sank into exhaustion, and all for -the moment was quiet in the sick-room, he sent to tell her he had -arrived, and went to the dreadful door which she kept closed so -jealously. He was afraid to meet her eye when she came to him, and -noiselessly drew him within. Judging by himself, he had not ventured to -think what his mother's horror and despair would be. But Mrs. Vincent -put her arms round her son with an exclamation of thanksgiving. "Oh, -Arthur! thank God, you are come. Now I shall be able to bear it," cried -his mother. She cried a little upon his breast, and then wiped her eyes -and looked up at him with quivering lips. "Oh, Arthur, what my poor -darling must have come through!" said Mrs. Vincent, with a wistful -appeal to him in her tender eyes. She said nothing of the darker horror. -It lay upon her soul a frightful, inarticulate shadow; but in the mean -time she could only think of Susan and her fever--that fever which -afforded a kind of comfort to the mother--a proof that her child had not -lost her innocence lightly, but that the shock had been to Susan a -horrible convulsion, shaking earth and heaven. The mother and son went -together to the bedside to look at the unhappy cause of all their -sorrows--she clinging with her tender hand to his arm, wistful now, and -afraid in the depths of her heart lest Arthur, who was only a man, might -be hard upon Susan in her terrible abasement. It was more than a year -since Vincent had seen his sister. Was it Susan? The grandeur of the -stricken form, the features sublimed and elevated, the majestic -proportions into which this awful crisis of fate had developed the -fair-haired girl of Lonsdale, struck her brother with unspeakable awe -and pity. Pity and awe: but yet another feeling mingled in the wonder -with which he gazed upon her. A thrill of terror came over him. That -frightful, tropical blaze of passion, anguish, and woe which had -produced this sudden development, had it developed no unknown qualities -in Susan's heart? As she lay there in the majesty of unconsciousness, -she resembled more a woman who could avenge herself, than a soft girl, -the sudden victim of a bad man. Vincent turned away from the bed with an -involuntary shudder. He would not, could not, look at her again: he left -his mother to her unceasing vigil, and himself went to his own room, to -try if rest were possible. Rest was not easy in such a terrible -complication of affairs; but weariness is omnipotent with youth. He did -sleep by snatches, in utter fatigue and exhaustion--slept long enough to -secure for himself the unspeakable torture of waking to the renewed -horror of a new day. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -NEXT morning the minister rose to the changed life and world which now -surrounded his way, if not with much less excitement, at least with a -more familiar knowledge of all the troubles which encompassed him. As he -sat over the pretended breakfast, for which he had no appetite, and not -even heart enough to make a show of eating, hearing close by the voice -of his sister's delirium, sometimes in faint murmurs, sometimes rising -into wild outcries of passion, and pondered all the circumstances of -this frightful calamity, it is not wonderful that his heart fainted -within him. He had found out quickly enough that it was an officer of -justice whom Tozer had succeeded, by what means he could not tell, in -removing from his house. His landlady knew all the facts sufficiently -well to be by times reproachful and by times sympathetic. The other -lodgers in the house, some of whom had already left for fear of -pollution, were equally aware of all the circumstances of the case; and -it was impossible to hope that a tale so exciting, known to so many, -could be long of spreading. The minister seemed to himself to look ruin -in the face, as he sat in profound dejection, leaning his head in his -hands. He had committed his sister's interests into the hands of the -best attorney he could hear of in Dover, that watch and search might be -made on the spot for any further information; and now the only thing -possible to be done was to secure some still more skilful agent in -London to superintend the case, and set all the machinery of detection -in motion to discover Mrs. Hilyard. Vincent had nothing in the world but -the income which he drew from the liberality of Salem; an income which -could ill stand the drain of these oft-repeated journeys, not to speak -of the expenses of Susan's defence. All that the minister had would not -be enough to retain a fit defender for her, if she had to undergo the -frightful ordeal of a trial. The very thought of it drove her unhappy -brother desperate. Would it not be better if she died and escaped that -crowning misery, which must kill her anyhow, if she survived to bear it? -But these ponderings were as unprofitable as they were painful. When he -had seen his mother, who whispered to him accounts of Susan's illness, -which his mind was too much preoccupied to understand, he went away -immediately to the railway, and hastened to town. While he stood waiting -in the lawyer's office, he took up listlessly, without knowing what he -was doing, the newspaper of the day. There he found the whole terrible -tale made into a romance of real life, in which his sister's name, -indeed, was withheld, but no other particular spared. As he stood wiping -the heavy dew from his forehead, half frantic with rage and despair, the -quick eye of his misery caught a couple of clerks in another corner of -the office, talking over another newspaper, full of lively interest and -excitement. It was Susan's story that interested them; the compiler had -heightened with romantic details those hideous bare facts which had -changed all his life, and made the entire world a chaos to Vincent; and -all over the country by this time, newspaper readers were waking up into -excitement about this new tale of love, revenge, and crime. The poor -minister put down the paper as if it had stung him, and drew back, -tingling in every nerve, from the table, where he could almost hear the -discussion which was going on about Miss----; where she could have -escaped to, and whether she would be found. It restored him to his -senses and self-command when he found himself face to face with the cool -lawyer, who waited for his tragic story as a matter of business, and who -had nothing to do with the heartbreaks or the disgrace which it -involved. He was detained there for some time, giving as full an account -as he could of all the circumstances, and describing as well as he could -his reasons for suspecting Mrs. Hilyard, and her mysterious appearance -at the scene of the murder. Vincent perceived, with a sensation of -comfort at his heart, that his story interested the acute attorney, -accustomed to the tricks and expedients of crime, who perceived at once -the circumstances of suspicion, and understood at once how to go about -it, and ferret the secret out. The minister himself grew steadier as he -entered into his narrative. No shivers of wonder or pain convulsed the -calm lawyer as he listened. Under his touch, Susan's dreadful position -became one not unprecedented, to be dealt with like any other condition -of actual life; and when Vincent, after furnishing all the information -he could, and satisfying himself that no time was to be lost in the -prosecution of the search for the real criminal, left the office to -return to Carlingford, it was with a mind somewhat calmed out of its -first horror. He went back again by the train, deeply depressed and -anxious, but not so susceptible to every glance and word as he had been -an hour or two before. He tried, indeed, to take a certain gloomy -satisfaction from the idea that now everything was known. Fear of -discovery could no longer appal the stricken household; and to meet the -horror in the face was less dreadful than to feel themselves skulking -under a secret shadow which might at any moment be found out. He set his -face sternly, and looked everybody full in the eyes who looked at him, -as he once more alighted at the familiar station. He accepted the fact -that people were talking of him, pitying him, contemplating him with -wonder and fright, as somehow involved in an atmosphere of tragedy and -crime. With this feeling he went slowly along George Street on his -homeward way, with no susceptibility left in him, so far as he was -aware, except as concerned this sudden calamity which had swallowed up -his life. - -When suddenly the sound of a carriage stopping came dully upon his ears; -he would not have noted or heard it but for the sound that followed of -some one calling his own name, and the soft rush of footsteps on the -pavement; even then he did not turn round to see who called him. It was -accordingly with a thrill of strange emotion--a strange, sudden, guilty -suffusion of delight over all his tingling frame and aching heart, even -in the midst of his suffering, that he felt the light touch of Lady -Western's hand first laid on his arm, then softly stealing within it in -the sudden sympathy which possessed her as she looked up into his -colourless face. It was pity and natural kindness which prompted the -young Dowager to this unwonted familiar touch. She was sorry for him to -the bottom of her heart--she would fain have made him amends somehow for -the terrible evil which had come upon him. With the natural impulse of a -woman to caress or soothe, or cheat a man anyhow out of that look of -suffering which it is intolerable to her to see on his face, Lady -Western acted instinctively, without thinking what she did. She did her -beautiful hand into his arm, clung to him, looked up with her lovely -appealing face and eyes full of tears to the pale face of the minister, -which that touch moved beyond all expression. If he did not stop and -take her into his arms, and lean his great anguish upon her in a -sweetness of relief unspeakable and measureless, it was only because -ordinary rule and custom are stronger than even passion. He was as much -deceived as if he had done it, the poor young deluded soul. Out of the -thunder and storm, all at once, without prelude or warning, he thought -it was the light of love that broke upon him all radiant and glorious. -With that he could brave all, overcome all; for that he could be content -to fathom any depths of wretchedness. So he thought, as he looked down -from those sudden heights of unhoped-for tremulous blessedness into that -lovely face, and saw it trembling with divine compassion and tenderness. -So he thought the ice breaking, the depths stirring in his own soul. -Hope, deliverance, happiness, a delight more exquisite still, that -consolation of love which makes anguish itself sweet, breathed over the -poor young Nonconformist as that hand slid within his arm. His very -brain grew dizzy with the sweetness of relief, the sudden ease that -possessed his soul. - -"Oh, Mr. Vincent, my heart is breaking; what shall we do--what shall we -do?" cried Lady Western. "If it is true, I shall never dare speak to you -again, and I feel for you to the bottom of my heart. Oh, Mr. Vincent, -you don't think she did it? I am sure she did not do it--your sister! It -was bad enough before," cried the lovely creature, crying without -restraint, but still holding his arm and gazing up into his face, "but -now my heart is broken. Oh, will you tell me what I must do? I will not -go to him, for he has been a bad man; and I dare not go to your dear -mother as I should like to go; and I feel for you, oh, to the very -bottom of my heart!" - -"Then I can bear it," said Vincent. Though he did not speak another -word, the sound of his voice, the expression of his face, betrayed him. -He put his hand involuntarily upon the little hand that rested on his -arm. It was all so sudden that his self-command forsook him. A smile -trembled upon his face as he looked down at her with all his heart in -his eyes. "Then I can bear it," said the poor young minister, -overwhelmed and penetrated by that exquisite consolation. Lady Western -gave a little start of alarm as she read the unmistakable meaning in his -face. She withdrew her hand hastily with a flush of radiant colour and -downcast look of fright and shame. What had she done? Her confusion, her -agitation, her sudden withdrawal, did but increase the spell. To -Vincent's charmed soul it seemed that she had betrayed herself, and that -womanly reserve alone drew her back. He attended her to her carriage -with a tender devotion which could not express itself in words. When he -had put her in, he lingered, gazing at the face, now so troubled and -downcast, with a delicious feeling that he had a right to gaze at her. -"You have made me strong to bear all things," he said, in the low tone -of passion and secret joy. In the depth of his delusion he saw no other -meaning than sudden timidity and womanly reticence in her confused and -alarmed looks. When the carriage drove off he stood looking after it -with eyes full of dreamy light. Darkness surrounded him on every side, -darkness more hideous than a nightmare. The poor young soul believed for -that delicious moment that superlative and ineffable, like his misery, -was to be his joy. - -Harder thoughts regained the mastery when he got within his own house -again. It was no longer the orderly, calm, well-regulated house which -had taken in the minister of Salem by way of adding yet a finer touch to -its own profound respectability. Susan's unhappy presence pervaded the -place. Boxes of other lodgers going away encumbered the hall, where the -landlady hovered weeping, and admitted the pastor sullenly with an -audible sob. - -Though he had imagined himself invested in armour of light against all -these petty assaults, Vincent was not strong enough, even in the -fictitious strength given him by Lady Western's kindness, to bear the -reality of his position. The very face of his landlady brought before -him the whole array of faces at Salem, which he must shortly encounter, -all directed towards him in judicial severity--an awful tribunal. When -he reached the shelter of his room up-stairs, the 'Carlingford Gazette' -lay upon his table, folded out so as to show that mysterious story of -Miss----, which some one in the house had certainly identified. The poor -minister took it in his hands with an impulse to tear it in pieces--to -trample it under foot--to give some outlet, now he was by himself, to -the rage and indignation with which he saw his own calamity turned into -a romance for the amusement of the public. He checked himself with a -bitter smile at his own folly; unconsciously he bethought himself of -Tozer's back-parlour, of Mr. Tufton's sitting-room, of all the places -about where he had seen his people gleaning information and amusement -from the 'Carlingford Gazette.' How the little paper, generally so -harmless, would amuse and excite its readers to-day! What surmises there -would be, and how soon the fatal knowledge would ooze out and be talked -over on all sides! It was no matter of feeling to him--it was ruin in -every way to the poor young minister, whose credit and living depended -solely upon the caprice of his "flock." The sight of the newspaper had -so stunned him, that it was some time before he perceived a letter lying -under it on the table. When he saw that the post-mark was Dover, he -snatched up this letter eagerly and tore it open. It was from the -lawyer whom he had consulted there. For the first moment he did not -comprehend the information it conveyed. Good news!--what news could be -good under his dreadful circumstances? The young man's mind was -stupified, and could not take it in. It was the copy of a doctor's -certificate--the opinion of a famous surgeon who had been summoned from -London--to the effect that Colonel Mildmay's wound was not necessarily -fatal, and that if fever did not come on he might recover. The minister -read it over again and again before he could comprehend it, and when he -did comprehend it, the fact seemed rather an aggravation than a comfort -to his misery. He was not dead--this destroyer. Perhaps at this moment, -when his unhappy victim lay struggling between life and death, he, with -the horrible good fortune of wickedness, was coming back from the edge -of the grave. At the first shock it did not seem good news to Vincent. -Not dead!--"the cursed villain," he said through his clenched teeth. The -earth was not rid of that pitiless wretch. It looked like another grand -injustice in the world, where all the landmarks were overturned, and -only evil seemed to prosper. He did not connect it anyhow with possible -relief or deliverance to Susan; on the contrary, it raised in his own -mind all the resentment and rage which had been quenched by Mildmay's -supposed death. He could scarcely compose himself after that unexpected -information. If all went well, it would naturally change the character -of the case--perhaps, under the circumstances, there might be no -prosecution, said the lawyer's letter. Vincent was young--excited out -of all self-command or prudential considerations. In his soul he -resented even this hope, which might still save his sister, and grudged -what he felt to be the diabolical good-luck of her destroyer. Not -dead!--not going to die!--not punished anyhow. About, after all the -misery he had occasioned, to recover, and go on prosperously again, and -spread wretchedness and ruin upon others. "He shall render me an -account," cried the minister fiercely to himself. "He shall answer for -it to me!" He felt it intolerable, that this guilty soul should escape -its punishment. - -Thoughts more reasonable, however, came to him after a time. He began to -see the importance of the intelligence to Susan--and even to himself. At -least she could not be accused of shedding blood--at least she might be -hidden somewhere in her shame, poor lost soul, and kept from the cruel -eyes of the world. When he began to feel the influence of this gleam of -comfort, he ventured to go to the sick-room to tell his mother, whom he -had not yet seen; but Mrs. Vincent was deaf and insensible to everything -but her child, whose need and danger were too urgent to permit more -distant spectres, however terrible, to be visible in her sick-chamber. -Mary, already worn out with fatigue, had gone to bed with a headache, -with the liveliest conviction in her mind that she had taken the fever -too. The widow, who had lived for the past week as though she had no -physical frame at all, sat sleepless, with hot eyes and pallid face, by -her daughter's bed. She could still smile--smiles more heart-breaking -than any outcry of anguish--and leaned her poor head upon her son, as -he came near to her, with a tender pressure of her arms and strain of -absolute dependence which went to his heart. She could not speak, or -say, as she had said so often, that her boy must take care of his -sister--that Susan had no one else to stand by her. Leaning upon him in -an unspeakable appeal of love and weakness, smiling on him with her -wistful quivering lips, was all the poor mother could do now. - -All; for in that room no one could speak. One voice filled its silence. -The restless movement of the head on that pillow turning from side to -side in search of the rest which was nowhere to be found, stilled every -other motion. Not even fever could flush the marble whiteness of her -face. Awfully alone, in her mother's anxious presence, with her brother -by her bedside, Susan went on unconscious through the wild distracted -world of her own thoughts--through what had been her own thoughts before -horror and anguish cast them all astray. Vincent stood aside in -breathless attention like the rest, before he had been many minutes in -the room. We say to each other how strange it is that no heart can ever -fully communicate itself to another; but when that revelation does take -place, awful is the spectacle. All unawares, in her dread distraction, -Susan opened up her heart. - -"What does it matter what they will say?" said Susan; "I will never see -them again. Unless--yes, put down her veil; she is pretty, very pretty; -but what has Herbert to do with her? He said it was me he wanted; and -why did he bring me away if he did not love me? Love me! and deceived -me, and told me lies. Oh God, oh God! is it not Carlingford? Where is -it? I am taking God's name in vain. I was not thinking of Him--, I was -thinking----. His name is Fordham, Herbert Fordham,--do you hear? What -do you mean by Mildmay? I know no Mildmay. Stop and let me think. -Herbert--Herbert! Oh, where are you--where are you? Do you think it -never could be him, but only a lie? Well! if he did not love me, I could -bear it; but why, why did he cheat me, and bring me away? The door is -locked; they will not let me get out. Herbert! was there never, never -any Herbert in the world? Oh, come back, even if you are only a dream! -Locked! If they would only kill me! What do they mean to do with me? Oh -God, oh God! but I must marry him if he says so. I must, must marry him, -though he has told me lies. I must, whatever he does. Even if I could -get through the window and escape; for they will call me wicked. Oh, -mamma, mamma! and Arthur a minister, and to bring disgrace on him! But I -am not disgraced. Oh no, no; never, never!-- I will die first-- I will -kill him first. Open the door; oh, open the door! Let me go!" - -She struggled up in one of her wilder paroxysms. She had thrown herself -half out of bed, rising up wildly, and tossing her arms into the air, -before her startled brother could rush forward to control her. But as -the voice of the unhappy girl rose into frenzy, some unseen attendants -stole in and took her out of his unskilful hands. The sight was too -painful for unaccustomed eyes--for eyes of love, which could scarcely -bear, even for her own sake, to see such means of restraint employed -upon Susan. Mrs. Vincent stood by, uttering unconscious cries, imploring -the two strong women who held her daughter, oh, not to hurt her, not to -grasp her so tightly; while Susan herself beat the air in vain, and -entreated, with passionate outcries, to be set free--to be let go. When -she was again subdued, and sank into the quiet of exhaustion, Vincent -withdrew from this saddest scene of all, utterly depressed and -broken-spirited. The wretch lived who had wrought this dread wreck and -ruin. What did it matter? Within that room it gave no relief, eased no -heart, to say that he was not dead. Forms more terrific still than those -of law and public vengeance--madness and death--stood on either side of -Susan's bed; till they had fought out the desperate quarrel, what matter -to those most immediately concerned whether a greater or a lesser -penalty lowered over her head? The minister went back to his own -retirement with an aching heart, utterly dejected and depressed. He -threw himself into a chair to think it all over, as he said to himself; -but as he sat there, hopeless and solitary, his mind strayed from Susan. -Could any one blame him? Who does not know what it is to have one secret -spot of personal consolation to fly to in the midst of trouble? Vincent -betook himself there in the utter darkness of everything around. Once -more he seemed to feel that sudden touch which took away half his -burden. No words could have spoken to his heart like that fairy hand -upon his arm. He brooded over it, not thinking, only living over again -the moment which had made so great a difference in the world. He forgot -Fordham; he forgot everything; he took neither reason nor likelihood -with him in his self-delusion. A sudden rosy mist suffused once more the -cruel earth upon which he was standing; whatever came, he had something -of his own to fall back upon, an ineffable secret sweetness, which -stanched every wound before it was made. The young minister, out of the -very depths of calamity, escaped into this garden of delights; he put -aside the intolerable misery of the house; he thrust away from him all -the lesser troubles which bristled thick in front of him in the very -name of Salem. He fled to that one spot of joy which he thought remained -to him in the middle of the waste, doubly sweet and precious. It gave -him strength to hold out through his trouble, without being overwhelmed. -He escaped to that delicious resting-place almost against his will, not -able to resist the charm of the indescribable solace he found there. He -alone, of all concerned, had that footbreadth of personal happiness to -take refuge in amid the bitter storm. He did not know it was all -delusion, self-deception, a woeful miserable blunder. He hugged it to -his heart in secret, and took a comfort not to be spoken from the -thought. Vanity of vanities; but nothing else in the world could have -stolen with such fairy balms of consolation and strength to the heart of -the poor minister. It was not long till he was called to face his fate -again, and all the heavy front of battle set in array against him; but -it was with a feeling of sweet guilt that he started up in the winter -twilight, and left his room to see Tozer, who waited for him below. That -room henceforward was inhabited by the fairy vision. When he went back -to it, Love, the consolatrix, met him again, stealing that visionary -hand within his arm. Blank darkness dwelt all around; here, falsest, -fairest mirage of imagination, palpitated one delicious gleam of light. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -SOMEHOW the heavy week stole round without any other fluctuations but -those terrible ones of Susan's fever. Dreadful consolation and terrible -doubt breathed forth in those heartrending revelations which her poor -unconscious soul was continually pouring forth. The unhappy girl showed -her heart all naked and undisguised to the watchers round her--a heart -bewildered, alarmed, desperate, but not overwhelmed with guilty passion. -Through the dreadful haze which enveloped her mind, flashes of -indignation, bursts of hope, shone tragical and fierce; but she was not -a disgraced creature who lay there, arguing pitifully with herself what -she must do; not disgraced--but in an agony of self-preservation could -she have snatched up the ready pistol--could it be true? When Vincent -went into that room, it was always to withdraw with a shuddering dread. -Had she escaped one horror to fall into another yet more horrible? That -evidence of which, with Mrs. Hilyard's face before his eyes, he had been -half contemptuous at first, returned upon him with ever-growing -probability. Driven to bay, driven mad, reason and self-control scared -by the horrible emergency, had the desperate creature resorted to the -first wild expedient within her reach to save herself at last? With -this hideous likelihood growing in his mind, Vincent had to face the -Sunday, which came upon him like a new calamity. He would fain have -withdrawn, and, regardless of anything else which might happen, have -sent once more for Beecher. To confront the people of Salem, to look -down upon those familiar rows of faces, all of them bearing a -consciousness of the story in the newspapers, acquainted with all that -his landlady could tell, and guessing but too distinctly the terrible -misfortune which had befallen his family, seemed more than flesh and -blood could bear. He was sitting alone, pondering all this, with a -letter which he had commenced to write to Beecher before him, when -Tozer, who was now his constant visitor, came in. There could be no -doubt of the butterman's honest and genuine sympathy, but, -unfortunately, there was just as little doubt that Tozer took a pleasure -in managing the minister's affairs at this crisis, and piloting him -through the troubled waters. Tozer did all but neglect his business to -meet the emergency; he carried matters with rather a high hand in the -meetings of the managing committee; he took absolute control, or wished -to do so, of Vincent's proceedings. "We'll tide it over, we'll tide it -over," he said, rubbing his hands. To go in, in this state of mind, -secure in his own resources and in the skill with which he could guide -the wavering and half-informed mind of Salem, fluctuating as it did -between horror and sympathy, doubtful whether to take up the minister's -cause with zeal, or to cast him off and disown him, and to find the -minister himself giving in, deserting his post at the most critical -moment, and making useless all that his patron was doing for him, was -too much for the deacon's patience. He sat down in indignant surprise -opposite Vincent, and struck his stick against the floor involuntarily, -by way of emphasis to his words. - -"Mr. Vincent, sir, this ain't the thing to do-- I tell you it ain't the -thing to do. Salem has a right to expect different," cried Tozer, in the -warmth of his disappointment; "a congregation as has never said a word, -and office-bearers as have stuck by you and stood up for you whatever -folks liked to say! I'm a man as will never desert my pastor in trouble; -but I'd like to know what you call this, Mr. Vincent, but a deserting of -me? What's the good of fighting for the minister, if he gives in and -sends for another man, and won't face nothing for himself? It's next -Sunday as is all the battle. Get that over, and things will come -straight. When they see you in the pulpit in your old way, and all -things as they was, bless you, they'll get used to it, and won't mind -the papers no more nor--nor I do. I tell you, sir, it's next Sunday as -is the battle. I don't undertake to answer for the consequences, not if -you gives in, and has Mr. Beecher down for next Sunday. It ain't the -thing to do, Mr. Vincent; Salem folks won't put up with that. Your good -mother, poor thing, wouldn't say no different. If you mean to stay and -keep things straight in Carlingford, you'll go into that pulpit, and -look as if nothing had happened. It's next Sunday as is the battle." - -"Look as if nothing had happened!--and why should I wish to stay in -Carlingford, or--or anywhere?" cried Vincent, in a momentary outbreak of -dejection. But he threw down his pen, and closed his blotting-book over -the half-written letter. He was too wretched to have much resolution one -way or another. To argue the matter was worse than to suffer any -consequences, however hard they might be. - -"I don't deny it's natural as you should feel strange," admitted Tozer. -"I do myself, as am only your friend, Mr. Vincent, when folks are -a-talking in the shop, and going over one thing and another--asking if -it's true as she belongs to you, and how a minister's daughter ever come -to know the likes of him----" - -"For heaven's sake, no more, no more!--you will drive me mad!" cried -Vincent, springing to his feet. Tozer, thus suddenly interrupted, stared -a little, and then changed the subject, though without quite finding out -how it was that he had startled his sensitive companion into such sudden -impatience. "When I was only telling him the common talk!" as he said to -his wife in the privacy of their own parlour. In the mean time he had -other subjects equally interesting. - -"If you'll take my advice, you'll begin your coorse all the same," said -Tozer; "it would have a good effect, that would. When folks are in a -state of excitement, and a-looking for something, to come down upon them -as before, and accordin' to intimation, would have a wonderful effect, -Mr. Vincent. You take my word, sir, it would be very telling--would -that. Don't lose no time, but begin your coorse as was intimated. It's -a providence, is the intimation. I wouldn't say nothing about what's -happened--not plain out; but if you could bring in a kind of an -inference like, nothing as had anything to do with the story in the -papers, but just as might be understood----" - -The butterman sat quite calmly and at his ease, but really anxious and -interested, making his sober suggestions. The unfortunate minister, -unable otherwise to subdue his impatience and wretchedness, fell to -walking up and down the room, as was natural. When he could bear it no -longer, he came back to the table at which Tozer sat in all the pomp of -advice and management. He took his unfinished letter and tore it in -little pieces, then stopped the calm flow of the deacon's counsel by a -sudden outburst. - -"I will preach," cried the young man, scattering the bits of paper out -of his hand unawares. "Is not that enough? don't tell me what I am to -do--the evil is sufficient without that. I tell you I will preach. I -would rather cut off my right hand, if that would do as well. I am -speaking like a child or a fool: who cares for my right hand, I wonder, -or my life, or my senses? No more of this. I will preach--don't speak of -it again. It will not matter a hundred years hence," muttered the -minister, with that sudden adoption of the philosophy of recklessness -which misery sometimes plays with. He threw himself into his chair -again, and covered his face with his hands. He was thinking of Salem, -and all those rows of gazing eyes. He could see them all in their pews, -imagination, with a cruel freak like a mocking spirit, depicting all -the finery of Mrs. Pigeon and Mrs. Brown upon that vivid canvass. The -minister groaned at the thought of them; but to put it down on paper, -and record the pang of exasperation and intolerable wretchedness which -was thus connected with the fine winter bonnets of the poulterer's wife -and the dairy-woman would make a picture rather grotesque than terrible -to unconcerned eyes. It was dreadful earnest to poor Vincent, thinking -how he should stand before them on that inexorable Sunday, and preach -"as if nothing had happened;" reading all the while, in case his own -mind would let him forget them, the vulgarest horrors of all that had -happened in all that crowd of eyes. - -"And you'll find a great consolation, take my word, sir, in the thought -that you're a-doing of your duty," said Tozer, shaking his head -solemnly, as he rose to go away; "that's a wonderful consolation, Mr. -Vincent, to all of us; and especially to a minister that knows he's -a-serving his Master and saving souls." - -Saving souls! Heaven help him! the words rang in his ears like mocking -echoes long after the butterman had settled into his arm-chair, and -confided to his wife and Phoebe that the pastor was a-coming to -himself and taking to his duties, and that we'll tide it over yet. -"Saving souls!" the words came back and back to Vincent's bewildered -mind. They formed a measure and cadence in their constant repetition, -haunting him like some spiritual suggestion, as he looked over, with -senses confused and dizzy, his little stock of sermons, to make -preparation for the duty which he could not escape. At last he tossed -them all away in a heap, seized his pen, and poured forth his heart. -Saving souls! what did it mean? He was not writing a sermon. Out of the -depths of his troubled heart poured all the chaos of thought and wonder, -which leapt into fiery life under that quickening touch of personal -misery and unrest. He forgot the bounds of orthodox speculation--all -bounds save those of the drear mortal curtain of death, on the other -side of which that great question is solved. He set forth the dark -secrets of life with exaggerated touches of his own passion and anguish. -He painted out of his own aching fancy a soul innocent, yet stained with -the heaviest of mortal crimes: he turned his wild light aside and poured -it upon another, foul to the core, yet unassailable by man. Saving -souls!--which was the criminal? which was the innocent? A wild -confusion of sin and sorrow, of dreadful human complications, -misconceptions, of all incomprehensible, intolerable thoughts, surged -round and round him as he wrote. Were the words folly that haunted him -with such echoes? Could he, and such as he, unwitting of half the -mysteries of life, do anything to that prodigious work? Could words help -it--vain syllables of exhortation or appeal? God knows. The end of it -all was a confused recognition of the One half-known, half-identified, -who, if any hope were to be had, held that hope in His hands. The -preacher, who had but dim acquaintance with His name, paused, in the -half idiocy of his awakened genius, to wonder, like a child, if perhaps -his simple mother knew a little more of that far-off wondrous -figure--recognised it wildly by the confused lights as the only hope in -earth or heaven--and so rose up, trembling with excitement and -exhaustion, to find that he had spent the entire night in this sudden -inspiration, and that the wintry dawn, cold and piercing to the heart, -was stealing over the opposite roofs, and another day had begun. - -This was the sermon which startled half the population of Carlingford on -that wonderful Sunday. Salem, had never been so full before. Every -individual of the Chapel folks was there who could by any means come -out, and many other curious inhabitants, full of natural wonder, to see -how a man looked, and what he would preach about, concerning whom, and -whose family, such mysterious rumours were afloat. The wondering -congregation thrilled like one soul under that touch of passion. Faces -grew pale, long sobs of emotion burst here and there from the -half-terrified excited audience, who seemed to see around them, instead -of the every-day familiar world, a throng of those souls whom the -preacher disrobed of everything but passion and consciousness and -immortality. Just before the conclusion, when he came to a sudden pause -all at once, and made a movement forward as if to lay hold of something -he saw, the effect was almost greater than the deacons could approve of -in chapel. One woman screamed aloud, another fainted, some people -started to their feet--all waited with suspended breath for the next -words, electrified by the real life which palpitated there before them, -where life so seldom appears, in the decorous pulpit. When he went on -again the people were almost too much excited to perceive the plain -meaning of his words, if any plain meaning had ever been in that -passionate outcry of a wounded and bewildered soul. When the services -were over, many of them watched the precipitate rush which the young -preacher made through the crowd into his vestry. He could not wait the -dispersion of the flock, as was the usual custom. It was with a buzz of -excitement that the congregation did disperse slowly, in groups, asking -each other had such a sermon ever been preached before in Carlingford. -Some shook their heads, audibly expressing their alarm lest Mr. Vincent -should go too far, and unsettle his mind; some pitied and commented on -his looks--women these. He sent them all away in a flutter of -excitement, which obliterated all other objects of talk for the moment, -even the story in the papers, and left himself in a gloomy splendour of -eloquence and uncertainty, the only object of possible comment until the -fumes of his wild oration should have died away. - -"I said we'd tide it over," said Tozer, in a triumphant whisper, to his -wife. "That's what he can do when he's well kep' up to it, and put on -his mettle. The man as says he ever heard anything as was finer, or had -more mind in it," added the worthy butterman to his fellow-deacons, "has -had more opportunities nor me; and though I say it, I've heard the best -preachers in our connection. That's philosophical, that is--there ain't -a man in the Church as I ever heard of as could match that, and not a -many as comes out o' 'Omerton. We're not a-going to quarrel with a -pastor as can preach a sermon like that, not because he's had a -misfortune in his family. Come into the vestry, Pigeon, and say a kind -word--as you're sorry, and we'll stand by him. He wants to be kep' up, -that's what he wants. Mind like that always does. It ain't equal to -doing for itself, like most. Come along with me, and say what's kind, -and cheer him up, as has exerted hisself and done his best." - -"It was rousing up," said Pigeon, with a little reluctance; "even the -missis didn't go again' that; but where he's weak is in the application. -I don't mind just shaking hands----" - -"If we was all to go, he might take it kind," suggested Brown, the -dairyman, who had little to say, and not much confidence in his own -opinion; and pride and kindness combined won the day. The deacons who -were in attendance went in, in a body, to shake hands with the pastor, -and express their sympathy, and congratulate him on his sermon, the -latter particular being an established point of deacon's duty in every -well-regulated and harmonious community. They went in rather pleased -with themselves, and full of the gratification they were about to -confer. But the open door of the vestry revealed an empty room, with the -preacher's black gown lying tossed upon the floor, as if it had been -thrown down recklessly in his sudden exit. The little procession came to -a halt, and stared in each other's faces. Their futile good intentions -flashed into exasperation. They had come to bestow their favour upon -him, to make him happy, and behold he had fled in contemptuous haste, -without waiting for their approval; even Tozer felt the shock of the -failure. So far as the oligarchs of Salem were concerned, the sermon -might never have been preached, and the pastor sank deeper than ever -into the bad opinion of Mr. Pigeon and Mr. Brown. - -In the mean time Vincent had rushed from his pulpit, thrown on his coat, -and rushed out again into the cold mid-day, tingling in every limb with -the desperate effort of self-restraint, which alone had enabled him to -preserve the gravity of the pulpit and conclude the services with due -steadiness and propriety. When he made that sudden pause, it was not for -nought. Effective though it was, it was no trick of oratory which caught -the breath at his lips, and transfixed him for the moment. There, among -the crowded pews of Salem, deep in the further end of the chapel, half -lost in the throng of listeners, suddenly, all at once, had flashed upon -him a face--a face, unchanged from its old expression, intent as if no -deluge had descended, no earthquake fallen; listening, as of old, with -gleaming keen eyes and close-shut emphatic mouth. The whole building -reeled in Vincent's eyes, as he caught sight of that thin head, dark and -silent, gleaming out in all its expressive refinement and intelligence -from the common faces round. How he kept still and went on was to -himself a kind of miracle. Had she moved or left the place, he could not -have restrained himself. But she did not move. He watched her, even -while he prayed, with a profanity of which he was conscious to the -heart. He watched her with her frightful composure finding the hymn, -standing up with the rest to sing. When she disappeared, he rushed from -the pulpit--rushed out--pursued her. She was not to be seen anywhere -when he got outside, and the first stream of the throng of dispersing -worshippers, which fortunately, however, included none of the leading -people of Salem, beheld with amazed eyes the minister who darted through -them, and took his hurried way to Back Grove Street. Could she have gone -there? He debated the question vainly with himself as he hastened on the -familiar road. The door was open as of old, the children playing upon -the crowded pavement. He flew up the staircase, which creaked under his -hasty foot, and knocked again at the well-known door, instinctively -pausing before it, though he had meant to burst in and satisfy himself. -Such a violence was unnecessary--as if the world had stood still, Mrs. -Hilyard opened the door and stood before him, with her little kerchief -on her head, her fingers still marked with blue. "Mr. Vincent," said -this incomprehensible woman, admitting him without a moment's -hesitation, pointing him to a chair as of old, and regarding him with -the old steady look of half-amused observation, "you have never come to -see me on a Sunday before. It is the best day for conversation for -people who have work to do. Sit down, take breath; I have leisure, and -there is time now for everything we can have to say." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -VINCENT put out his hand to seize upon the strange woman who confronted -him with a calmness much more confounding than any agitation. But her -quick eye divined his purpose. She made the slightest movement aside, -extended her own, and had shaken hands with him in his utter surprise -before he knew what he was doing. The touch bewildered his faculties, -but did not move him from the impulse, which was too real to yield to -anything. He took the door from her hand, closed it, placed himself -against it. "You are my prisoner," said Vincent. He could not say any -more, but gazed at her with blank eyes of determination. He was no -longer accessible to reason, pity, any sentiment but one. He had secured -her. He forgot even to be amazed at her composure. She was his -prisoner--that one fact was all he cared to know. - -"I have been your prisoner the entire morning," said Mrs. Hilyard, with -an attempt at her old manner, which scarcely could have deceived the -minister had he preserved his wits sufficiently to notice it, but at the -same time betraying a little surprise, recognising instinctively that -here she had come face to face with those blind forces of nature upon -which no arguments can tell. "You were in much less doubt about your -power of saving souls the last time I heard you, Mr. Vincent. Sit down, -please. It is not long since we met, but many things have happened. It -is kind of you to give me so early an opportunity of talking them over. -I am sorry to see you look excited--but after such exertions, it is -natural, I suppose----" - -"You are my prisoner," repeated Vincent, without taking any notice of -what she said. He was no match for her in any passage of arms. Her words -fell upon his ears without any meaning. Only a dull determination -possessed him. He locked the door, while she, somewhat startled in her -turn, stood looking on; then he went to the window, threw it open, and -called to some one below--any one--he did not care who. "Fetch a -policeman--quick--lose no time!" cried Vincent. Then he closed the -window, turned round, and confronted her again. At last a little -agitation was visible in this invulnerable woman. For an instant her -head moved with a spasmodic thrill, and her countenance changed. She -gave a rapid glance round as if to see whether any outlet was left. -Vincent's eye followed hers. - -"You cannot escape--you shall not escape," he said, slowly; "don't think -it--nothing you can do or say will help you now." - -"Ah!" said Mrs. Hilyard, with a startled, panting breath. "You have come -to the inexorable," she said, after a moment; "most men do, one time or -another. You decline meeting us on our ground, and take to your own. -Very well," she continued, seating herself by the table where she had -already laid down one of the Salem hymn-books; "till this arrival -happens, we may have a little conversation, Mr. Vincent. I was about to -tell you something which ought to be good news. Though you don't -appreciate my regard for you, I will tell it you all the same. What -noise is that? Oh, the boys, I suppose, rushing off for your policeman. -I hope you know what you are going to say to that functionary when he -comes. In the mean time, wait a little--you must hear my news." - -The only answer Vincent made was to look out again from the window, -under which a little group of gazers had already collected. His -companion heard the sounds below with a thrill of alarm more real than -she had ever felt before. She sat rigidly, with her hand upon the -hymn-book, preserving her composure by a wonderful effort, intensely -alive and awake to everything, and calculating her chances with a -certain desperation. This one thing alone of all that had happened, the -Back Grove Street needlewoman, confident in her own powers and -influence, had not foreseen. - -"Listen!" she cried, with an excitement and haste which she could not -quite conceal. "That man is not dead, you know. Come here--shut the -window! Young man, do you hear what I say to you? Am I likely to indulge -in vain talk now? Come here--here! and understand what I have to say." - -"It does not matter," said Vincent, closing the window. "What you say -can make no difference. There is but one thing possible now." - -"Yes, you are a man!" cried the desperate woman, clasping her hands -tight, and struggling with herself to keep down all appearance of her -anxiety. "You are deaf, blind! You have turned your back upon reason. -That is what it always comes to. Hush! come here--closer; they make so -much noise in the street. I believe," she said, with a dreadful smile, -"you are afraid of me. You think I will stab you, or something. Don't -entertain such vulgar imaginations, Mr. Vincent. I have told you before, -you have fine manners, though you are only a Dissenting minister. I have -something to tell you--something you will be glad to know----" - -Here she made another pause for breath--merely for breath--not for any -answer, for there was no answer in her companion's face. He was -listening for the footsteps in the street--the steps of his returning -messengers. And so was she, as she drew in that long breath, expanding -her forlorn bosom with air, which the quick throbs of her heart so soon -exhausted. She looked in his eyes with an eager fire in her own, -steadily, without once shifting her gaze. The two had changed places. It -was he, in his inexorableness, close shut up against any appeal or -argument, that was the superior now. - -"When you hear what I have to say, you will not be so calm," she went -on, with another involuntary heave of her breast. "Listen! your sister -is safe. Yes, you may start, but what I say is true. Don't go to the -window yet. Stop, hear me! I tell you your sister is safe. Yes, it may -be the people you have sent for. Never mind, this is more important. You -have locked the door, and nobody can come in. I tell you again and -again, your sister is safe. That man is not dead--you know he is not -dead. And yesterday--hush! never mind!--yesterday," she said, rising up -as Vincent moved, and detaining him with her hand upon his arm, which -she clutched with desperate fingers, "he made a declaration that it was -not she; a declaration before the magistrates," continued Mrs. Hilyard, -gasping as her strength failed her, and following him, holding his arm -as he moved to the window, "that it was not she--not she! do you -understand me--not she! He swore to it. He said it was another, and not -that girl. Do you hear me?" she cried, raising her voice, and shaking -his arm wildly in the despair of the moment, but repeating her words -with the clearness of desperation--"He said on his oath it was not she." - -She had followed him to the window, not pleading for herself by a single -word, but with her desperate hand upon his arm, her face pinched and -pale to the lips, and a horrible anxiety gleaming in the eyes which she -never removed from his face. The two stood together there for a moment -in that silent encounter; he looking down at the group of people below, -she watching his face with her eyes, clutching his arm with her hand, -appealing to him with a speechless suspense and terror, which no words -can describe. Her fate hung upon the merest thread, and she knew it. She -had no more power to move him in her own person than any one of the -ragged children who stood gazing up at the window. There he stood, -silent, blank, immovable; and she, suffering no expression of her -dreadful suspense to escape her, stood clutching his arm, seeing, as -she had never seen before, a pale vision of prisons, scaffolds, -judgments, obscuring earth and heaven. She was brave, and had dared them -all wittingly in the crisis of her fate, but the reality caught the -labouring breath from her lips, and turned her heart sick. This morning -she had woke with a great burden taken off her mind, and, daring as she -was, had faced the only man who had any clue to her secret, confident in -his generous nature and her own power over him. But this confidence had -failed her utterly, and in the very ease and relief of her mind--a -relief more blessed and grateful than she could have acknowledged to any -mortal--lo! here arose before her close and real the spectre which she -had defied. It approached step by step, while she gazed with wild eyes -and panting breath upon the inexorable man who had it in his power to -deliver her over to law and justice. She dared not say a word of -entreaty to him; she could only watch his eyes, those eyes which never -lighted upon her, with speechless dread and anxiety. Many evils she had -borne in her life--many she had confronted and overcome--obstinate will -and unscrupulous resolution had carried her one way or other through all -former dangers. Here for the first time she stood helpless, watching -with an indescribable agony the face of the young man at whom she had so -often smiled. Some sudden unforeseen touch might still set her free. Her -breath came quick in short gasps--her breast heaved--her fate was -absolutely beyond her own control, in Vincent's hands. - -Just then there came into the narrow street a sound of carriage-wheels. -Instinctively Vincent started. The blank of his determination was broken -by this distant noise. Somehow it came naturally into the silence of -this room and woke up the echoes of the past in his mind; the past--that -past in which Lady Western's carriage was the celestial chariot, and she -the divinest lady of life. Like a gleam of light there suddenly dawned -around him a remembrance of the times he had seen her here--the times he -had seen her anywhere; the last time--the sweet hand she had laid upon -his arm. Vincent's heart awoke under that touch. With a start he looked -down upon the hand which was at this moment on his arm,--not the hand of -love,--fingers with the blood pressed down to the very tips, holding -with desperation that arm which had the power of life and death. A -hurried exclamation came from his lips; he looked at the woman by him, -and read vaguely in her face all the passion and agony there. Vaguely it -occurred to him that to save or to sacrifice her was in his hands, and -that he had but a moment now to decide. The carriage-wheels came nearer, -nearer, ringing delicious promises in his ears--nearer too came the -servants of that justice he had invoked; and what plea was it, what -strange propitiation, which his companion had put forth to him to stay -his avenging hand? Only a moment now; he shook her hand off his arm, and -in his turn took hold of hers; he held her fast while she faced him in -an agony of restrained suspense and terror. How her worn bosom panted -with that quick coming breath! Her life was in his hands. - -"What was that you said?" asked Vincent, with the haste and brevity of -passion, suddenly perceiving how much had to be done in this moment of -fate. - -The long-restrained words burst from his companion's lips almost before -he had done speaking. "I said your sister was safe!" she cried; "I said -he had declared her innocent on his oath. It was not she--he has sworn -it, all a man could do. To sacrifice another," she went on breathlessly -with a strong momentary shudder, pausing to listen, "will do nothing for -her--nothing! You hear what I say. It was not she; he has sworn upon his -solemn oath. Do as you will. She is safe--safe!--as safe as--as-- God -help me--as safe as my child,--and it was for her sake----" - -She stopped--words would serve her no further--and just then there came -a summons to the locked door. Vincent dropped her arm, and she recoiled -from him with an involuntary movement; unawares she clasped her thin -hands and gave one wild look into his face. Not even now could she tell -what he was going to do, this dreadful arbiter of fate. The key, as he -turned it in the door, rang in her ears like thunder; and his hand -trembled as he set open the entrance of the needlewoman's mean -apartment. On the threshold stood no vulgar messenger of fate, but a -bright vision, sad, yet sweeter than anything else in earth or almost in -heaven to Vincent. He fell back without saying anything before the -startled look of that beautiful face. He let in, not law and justice, -but love and pity, to this miserable room. - -"Oh, Rachel! where have you been? have you seen him? have you heard of -him? where have you been?" cried the visitor, going up to the pallid -woman, whose eyes were still fixed on Vincent. Mrs. Hilyard could not -speak. She dropped upon her knees by the table, shivering and crouching -like a stricken creature. She leaned her head upon the hymn-book which -lay there so strangely at variance with everything else around it. Pale -with fright and horror, Lady Western appealed to Vincent. "She is ill, -she is fainting--oh, Mr. Vincent, what have you been saying to her? She -was not to blame," cried the new-comer, in her ignorance. Vincent -attempted no reply, offered no help. In his heart he could have snatched -away those beautiful hands which embraced and comforted his "prisoner," -thus rescued out of his grasp. It was hard to see her touch that guilty -conscious woman whom his own heart refused to pity. He stood by looking -on, watching her still; the instinct of vengeance had been awakened -within him. He was reluctant to let her go. - -"You have been saying something to her," said Lady Western, with tears -in her eyes; "and how could she be to blame? Rachel! Oh, I wonder, I -wonder if she loved him after all?" cried the beautiful creature, in the -bewilderment of her innocence and ignorance. She stood bending over the -kneeling figure, troubled, perplexed almost more than her strange -sister-in-law had ever yet perplexed her. She could not account for this -extraordinary access of agitation. It was nohow explainable, except -upon that supposition which opened at once the warmest sympathies of the -gentle young woman's heart. - -"Rachel, dear!" she cried, kissing softly the thin hands worn with toil -that covered Mrs. Hilyard's face--"he is still living, there is hope; -perhaps he will get better; and he is showing a better mind too," she -added, after a little tremulous pause. "I came to see if you had come -home to tell you; he has sworn that it was not--oh, Mr. Vincent, I sent -you word immediately when I got the message--he says it was not your -sister; she had nothing to do with it, he says. Now I can look you in -the face again. The first thing he was able to do when he came to -himself was to clear her; and now she will get better--and your dear -mother?"--said Lady Western, looking wistfully into the young man's -face. In that moment, while her attention was directed otherwise, Mrs. -Hilyard rose up and took her seat again; took her seat because she was -not able to stand, and scarcely able, by all the power of her will, to -compose the nerves which, for the first time in her life, had utterly -got the better of her. She wiped off the heavy moisture from her face -with a furtive hand before the young Dowager turned her eyes again that -way. She grasped fast hold of the only thing on the table, the Salem -hymn-book, and with a vast effort regained some degree of self-command. -For that precious moment she was free from observation, for nothing in -the world could have prevented Vincent from returning with his own -fascinated eyes the look which Lady Western turned upon him. While the -two looked at each other, she was safe; she collected her scattered -forces in that invaluable instant. She was herself again when Lady -Western looked round, somewhat nervous and embarrassed, from the gaze of -passion with which her look of deprecation and sympathy had been met. If -a slight shiver now and then thrilled over Mrs. Hilyard's figure, it was -as like to be cold as emotion. Otherwise, she sat with her arm resting -on the table and her hand clenched upon the hymn-book, her thin lips -clinging spasmodically to each other, and her face pallid, but to an -uncritical observer scarcely changed from the grey and vigilant -composure of her usual appearance. So many storms had passed over that -countenance, that the momentary agony of horror and fright from which -she had scarcely yet emerged did not tell as it would have done on a -face less worn. Her voice was sharp and strained when she spoke, and she -watched Vincent's eye with a keenness of which he was vividly conscious; -but Lady Western, who did not go deep into looks and meanings, found -nothing very unusual in what she said. - -"I think Mr. Vincent was doubtful of my information," she said. "I heard -it last night from Langridge, the groom, who once belonged to my family, -you know, Alice; and--and lets me know if anything more than usual -happens," she said, abruptly stopping to draw breath. "I travelled all -night to get here to-day. Mr. Vincent was doubtful of me. Now this -matter is cleared up, I daresay he will understand me when I say that I -never could have allowed things to go further. I am only a -needle-woman, and live in Back Grove Street," continued Mrs. Hilyard, -recovering gradually as she spoke; "but I have certain things still in -my power. Mr. Vincent will understand what I mean," she went on, fixing -her eyes upon him, and unable to repress an occasional gasp which -interrupted her words, "when I say that I should not have suffered it to -go further. I should not have shrunk from any sacrifice. My dear, I have -been a little shaken and agitated, as you perceive. Mr. Vincent wants to -keep his eye upon me. Take me with you, Alice," said the bold woman, -once more looking Vincent full in the face; "take charge of me, keep me -prisoner until all this is cleared up. I am about tired of living a -disguised princess. Send up your people for my possessions here, and -take me with you. You will find me safe, Mr. Vincent, when you happen to -want me, with Lady Western in Grange Lane." - -"Oh, Rachel, I am so glad!" cried Lady Western; "I cannot for my life -imagine what you mean by keeping you my prisoner, and all that; but Mr. -Vincent may be very sure you will be safe with me;--since he has so much -interest in your movements," continued the young Dowager, turning her -perplexed eyes from one to the other. She had not the remotest idea what -it all meant. She was perhaps a little surprised to perceive that, after -all, Vincent's interest was less with herself than with this strange -woman, whose calmness and agitation were equally confusing and -unintelligible. "We shall, of course, always be happy to see Mr. Vincent -in Grange Lane," she concluded, with a somewhat stately courtesy. He -did not look at her; he was looking at the other, whose eyes were fixed -upon his face. Between these eyes Lady Western, much amazed, could -perceive a secret communication passing. What could it mean? The -consciousness of this mystery between them which she did not know, -annoyed her, notwithstanding her sweet temper. She withdrew her hand -instinctively from Mrs. Hilyard's, which she had taken in momentary -enthusiasm, and watched their looks of intelligence with half-offended -eyes. - -"Yes," said the needlewoman, speaking with her eyes fixed upon Vincent, -though she did not address him, and making a desperate effort after her -usual manner; "I do not think Back Grove Street will do any longer. One -may as well take advantage of the accident which has brought our family -affairs before the world to come alive again. It is a thing one must do -sooner or later. So, if your carriage is close, Alice, I will go home -with you. I shall miss Salem," said the audacious woman, "though you are -so much less sure about doing good than you used to be, Mr. Vincent. If -my soul happens to be saved, however," she continued, with a strange -softening of her fixed and gleaming eyes--"if that is of much -importance, or has any merit in it--you will have had some share in the -achievement. You will?" She said the words with a keen sharpness of -interrogation, much unlike their more obvious meaning. "You will," she -repeated again, more softly--"you will!" Her thin hands came together -for a moment in a clasp of mute supplication; her eyes, always hitherto -looking down upon him from heights of dark knowledge and experience, -looked up in his face with an anguish of entreaty which startled -Vincent. Just at that moment the sounds in the street grew louder, and a -voice of authority was audible ordering some one to clear the way. Mrs. -Hilyard did not speak, but she put out her hand and touched Lady -Western's shawl, lifting its long fringes, and twisting them round those -fingers on which the marks of her long labour were still visible. She -withdrew as she did this her eyes from his face. Her fate was absolutely -in his hands. - -"Ladies," said Vincent, hoarsely, after vainly trying to clear his -agitated voice, "it is better you should leave this place at once. I -will see you to your carriage. If I do wrong, the consequences will fall -hardest on me. Don't say anything; either way, talking will do little -good. You are her shield and defence," he said, looking at Lady Western, -with an excitement which he could not quite keep under. "When she -touches you, she becomes sacred. You will keep her safe--safe? you will -not let her go?" - -"Yes; I will keep her safe," said the beauty, opening her lovely -astonished eyes. "Is she in danger? Oh, Mr. Vincent, your trouble has -been too much for you! remember your sister is safe now." - -"Is she?" said the minister; he was bitter in his heart, even though -that hand was once more laid on his arm, "Safe!--with a broken heart and -a ruined life; but what does that matter? It is all we are good for; -though we may go mad and die." - -"Oh, not you! not you!" said Lady Western, gazing at him with the -tenderest pity in her sweet eyes. "You must not say so; I should be so -unhappy." Her beautiful hand pressed his arm with the lightest momentary -pressure. She could not help herself; to see suffering and not to do -what was in her to soothe it was not possible to her soft heart. -Whatever harm that temporary opiate might do, nothing in the world could -have prevented her gentle kindness from administering it. She went down -the humble stairs leaning on his arm, with Mrs. Hilyard following close. -The young man put aside the little crowd he himself had collected, and -put them in the carriage. He saw them drive away with a kind of -despairing exaltation and excitement, and turned to the difficulties -which remained to him--to explain himself and send the tardy ministers -of justice away. He explained, as he best could, that he had been -mistaken, and once more emptied his scanty purse, where there was now -little enough left. When he had got rid of the disappointed group about -the door, he went home slowly in the reaction of his violence and haste. -Susan was safe; was she safe? delivered from this dreadful -accusation--allowed to drop back at least with her broken heart into the -deep silences of privacy and uninvadable domestic life. Well, it was a -mercy, a great mercy, though he could not realise it. He went home -slowly, tingling with the strain of these strange hours; was it Sunday -still? was it only an hour ago that Salem had thrilled to the discourse -in which his passion and despair had found vent? Vincent neither -comprehended himself nor the hours, full of strange fate, which were -gliding over him. He went home exhausted, as if with a great conflict; -conscious of some relief in his heart, but half unwilling to confess to -it, or to realise the means by which it had dawned upon him. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -WHEN Vincent entered the house, the sensation of quiet in it struck him -with a vague consolation which he could scarcely explain. Perhaps only -because it was Sunday, but there was no reproachful landlady, no -distracting sound from above--all quiet, Sunday leisure, Sunday decorum, -as of old. When he went up hurriedly to his sitting-room, he found two -letters lying on his table--one a telegraphic despatch from Dover, the -other a dainty little note, which he opened as a man opens the first -written communication he receives from the woman of all women. He knew -what was in it; but he read it as eagerly as if he expected to find -something new in the mild little epistle, with its gentle attempt at -congratulation. The news was true. Either remorse had seized upon -Mildmay in the prospect of death, or the lingering traditions of honour -in his heart had asserted themselves on Susan's behalf. He had declared -her entirely innocent; he had even gone farther, he had sworn that it -was only as the companion of his daughter that Susan had accompanied -them, and as such that he had treated her. The deposition taken by the -magistrates was sent to Vincent in an abridged form, but what it -conveyed was clear beyond dispute. So far as the words of this -apparently dying man could be received, Susan was spotless--without -blood on her hand, or speck upon her good fame. The lesser and the -greater guilt were both cleared from that young head which had not been -strong enough to wait for this vindication. Though he said, Thank God, -from the bottom of his heart, an unspeakable bitterness filled Vincent's -soul as he read. Here was a deliverance, full, lavish, unlooked for; but -who could tell that the poor girl, crazed with misery, would ever be any -the better for it? who could tell whether this vindication might be of -any further use than to lighten the cloud upon Susan's grave? - -With this thought in his mind he went to the sick-room, where everything -seemed quiet, not quite sure that his mother, absorbed as she was in -Susan's present danger, could be able to realise the wonderful -deliverance which had come to them. But matters were changed there as -elsewhere. Between the door and the bed on which Susan lay, a large -folding-screen had been set up, and in the darkened space between this -and the door sat Mrs. Vincent, with Dr. Rider and his wife on each side, -evidently persuading and arguing with her on some point which she was -reluctant to yield to them. They were talking in whispers under their -breath, and a certain air of stillness, of calm and repose, which -Vincent could scarcely comprehend, was in the hushed room. - -"I assure you, on my word," said Dr. Rider, lifting his eyes as Vincent -opened the door, and beckoning him softly to come in, "that this change -is more than I dared hope for. The chances are she will wake up out of -danger. Nothing can be done for her but to keep her perfectly quiet; and -my wife will watch, if you will rest;--for our patient's sake!" said the -anxious doctor, still motioning Vincent forward, and appealing to him -with his eyes. - -"Mr. Vincent has something to tell you," said the quick little woman, -impetuous even in her whisper, who was Dr. Rider's wife. "He must not -come and talk here. He might wake her. Take him away. Edward, take them -both away. Mrs. Vincent, you must go and hear what he has to say." - -"Oh, Arthur! my dear boy," cried his mother, looking up to him with -moist eyes. "It is I who have something to tell. My child is perhaps to -get well, Arthur. Oh! my own boy, after all, she is going to get better. -We shall have Susan again. Hush! doctor, please let me go back again; -something stirred-- I think something stirred; and perhaps she might want -something, and the nurse would not observe. Tired?--no, no; I am not -tired. I have always watched them when they were ill, all their lives. -They never had any nurse in sickness but their mother. Arthur, you know -I am not tired. Oh! doctor, perhaps you would order something while he -is here, for my son; he has been agitated and anxious, and he is not so -strong--not nearly so strong as I am; but, my dear," said the widow, -looking up in her son's face with a wistful eagerness, "when Susan gets -better, all will be--well." - -She said the last words with a trembling, prolonged sigh. Poor mother, -in that very moment she had recalled almost for the first time how far -from well everything would be. Her face darkened over piteously as she -spoke. She rose up, stung into new energy by this dreadful thought, -which had been hitherto mercifully obscured by Susan's danger. "Let me -go back--don't say anything. Nobody can watch my child but me," said the -heartbroken woman; and once more she looked in her son's face. She -wanted to read there what had happened--to ascertain from him, without -any one else being the wiser, all the dreadful particulars which now, in -the first relief of Susan's recovery, had burst into sudden shape upon -her sight. "Doctor, we will not detain you; her brother and I will watch -my child," said Mrs. Vincent. The light forsook her eyes as she rose in -that new and darker depth of anxiety; her little figure tottered trying -to stand as she held out her hand to her son. "You and me--only you and -me, Arthur--we must never leave her; though everybody is so kind----" -said the minister's mother, turning with her smile of martyrdom, though -her eyes were blind and she could not see them, to Dr. Rider and his -wife. - -Vincent took his mother's hands and put her tenderly back in her chair. -"I have good news, too," he said; "all will be well, mother dear. This -man who has wrought us so much trouble is not dead. I told you, but you -did not understand it; and he declares that Susan----" - -"Arthur!" cried Mrs. Vincent, with a sharp outcry of alarm and -remonstrance. "Oh, God forgive me! I shall wake my child. Arthur! The -doctor is very good," added the widow, looking round upon them always -with the instinct of conciliating Arthur's friends; "and so is Mrs. -Rider; but every family has its private affairs," she concluded, with a -wistful, deprecating smile, all the time making signs to Arthur to stop -him in his indiscreet revelations. "My dear, you will tell me presently -when we are alone." - -"Ah, mother," said Vincent, with a suppressed groan, "there is nothing -private now in our family affairs. Hush! listen-- Susan is cleared; he -swears she had nothing to do with it; he swears that she was his -daughter's companion only. Mother! Good heavens! doctor, what has -happened? She looks as if she were dying. Mother! What have I done? I -have killed her with my good news." - -"Hush, hush--she has fainted--all will come right; let us get her away," -cried Dr. Rider under his breath. Between them the two young men carried -her out of the room, which Mrs. Rider closed after them with a certain -triumph. The widow was not in so deep a faint but the fresher air -outside and the motion revived her. It was more a sudden failing of her -faculties in the height of emotion than actual insensibility. She made a -feeble effort to resist and return into Susan's room. "You will wake -her," said Dr. Rider in her ear; and the poor mother sank back in their -arms, fixing her wistful misty eyes, in which everything swam, upon her -son. Her lips moved as she looked at him, though he could not hear her -say a word; but the expression in her face, half awakened only from the -incomprehension of her swoon, was not to be mistaken or resisted. -Vincent bent down over her, and repeated what he had said as he carried -her to another room. "Susan is safe--Susan is innocent. It is all over; -mother, you understand me?" he said, repeating it again and again. Mrs. -Vincent leaned back upon his shoulder with a yielding of all her -fatigued frame and worn-out mind. She understood him, not with her -understanding as yet, but with her heart, which melted into unspeakable -relief and comfort without knowing why. She closed her eyes in that -wonderful consciousness of some great mercy that had happened to her; -the first time she had closed them voluntarily for many nights and days. -When they laid her down on the bed which had been hurriedly prepared for -her, her eyes were still closed, and tears stealing softly out under the -lids. She could not break out into expressions of thankfulness--the joy -went to her heart. - -Dr. Rider thought it judicious to leave her so, and retired from the -bedside with Vincent, not without some anxious curiosity in his own mind -to hear all "the rights" of the matter. Perhaps the hum of their voices, -quietly though they spoke, aroused her from her trance of silent -gratitude. When she called Arthur faintly, and when they both hurried to -her, Mrs. Vincent was sitting up in her bed wiping off the tears from -her cheeks. "Arthur dear," said the widow, "I am quite sure Dr. Rider -will understand that what he has heard is in the strictest confidence; -for to be sure," she continued, with a faint smile breaking over her wan -face, "nobody could have any doubt about my Susan. It only had to be -set right--and I knew when my son came home he would set it right," -said Mrs. Vincent, looking full in Dr. Rider's face. "It has all -happened because I had not my wits about me as I ought to have had, and -was not used to act for myself; but when my son came back-- Arthur, my -own boy, it was all my fault, but I knew you would set it right--and as -for my Susan, nobody could have any doubt; and you will both forgive -your poor mother. I don't mind saying this before the doctor," she -repeated again once more, looking in his face; "because he has seen us -in all our trouble, and I am sure we may trust Dr. Rider; but, my dear, -you know our private affairs are not to be talked of before -strangers--especially," said the widow, with a long trembling sigh of -relief and comfort, "when God has been so good to us, and all is to be -well." - -The two young men looked at each other in silence with a certain awe. -All the dreadful interval which had passed between this Sunday afternoon -and the day of Susan's return, had been a blank to Mrs. Vincent so far -as the outer world was concerned. Her daughter's illness and danger had -rapt her altogether out of ordinary life. She took up her burden only -where it had dropped off from her in the consuming anxiety for Susan's -life and reason, in which all other fears had been lost. Just at the -point where she had forgotten it, where she had still faced the world -with the despairing assumption that all would be right when Arthur -returned, she bethought herself now of that frightful shadow which had -never been revealed in its full horror to her eyes. Now that Arthur's -assurance relieved her heart of that, the widow took up her old position -instinctively. She knew nothing of the comments in the newspapers, the -vulgar publicity to which poor Susan's story had come. She wanted to -impress upon Dr. Rider's mind, by way of making up for her son's -imprudence, that he was specially trusted, and that she did not mind -speaking before him because he had seen all their trouble. Such was the -poor mother's idea as she sat upon the bed where they had carried her, -wiping the tears of joy from her wan and worn face. She forgot all the -weary days that had come and gone. She took up the story just at the -point where she, after all her martyrdom and strenuous upholding of -Arthur's cause, had suddenly sunk into Susan's sick-room and left it. -Now she reappeared with Arthur's banner once more in her hands--always -strong in that assumption that nobody could doubt as to Susan, and that -Arthur had but to come home to set all right. Dr. Rider held up his -warning finger when he saw Vincent about to speak. This delusion was -salvation to the widow. - -"But I must go back to Susan, doctor," said Mrs. Vincent. "If she should -wake and find a stranger there!--though Mrs. Rider is so kind. But I am -much stronger than I look--watching never does me any harm; and now that -my mind is easy-- People don't require much sleep at my time of life. -And, Arthur, when my dear child sees me, she will know that all is -well--all is well," repeated the widow, with trembling lips. "I must go -to Susan, doctor; think if she should wake!" - -"But she must not wake," said Dr. Rider; "and if you stay quietly here -she will not wake, for my wife will keep everything still. You will have -a great deal to do for her when she is awake and conscious. Now you must -rest." - -"I shall have a great deal to do for her? Dr. Rider means she will want -nursing, Arthur," said Mrs. Vincent, "after such an illness; but she -might miss me even in her sleep, or she might----" - -"Mother, you must rest, for Susan's sake; if you make yourself ill, who -will be able to take care of her?" said Vincent, who felt her hand -tremble in his, and saw with how much difficulty she sustained the -nervous shivering of her frame. She looked up into his face with those -anxious eyes which strove to read his without being able to comprehend -all the meanings there. Then the widow turned with a feminine artifice -to Dr. Rider. - -"Doctor, if you will bring me word that my child is still asleep--if you -will tell me exactly what you think, and that she is going on well," -said Mrs. Vincent; "you are always so kind. Oh, Arthur, my dear boy," -cried the widow, taking his hand and caressing it between her own, "now -that he is gone, tell me. Is it quite true?--is all well again? but you -must never bring in Susan's name. Nobody must have it in their power to -say a word about your sister, Arthur dear. And, oh, I hope you have been -prudent and not said anything among your people. Hush! he will be coming -back; is it quite true, Arthur? Tell me that my dear child has come -safe out of it all, and nothing has happened. Tell me! Oh, speak to me, -Arthur dear!" - -"It is quite true," said Vincent, meeting his mothers eyes with a -strange blending of pity and thankfulness. He did not say enough to -satisfy her. She drew him closer, looking wistfully into his face. The -winter afternoon was darkening, the room was cold, the atmosphere -dreary. The widow held her son close, and fixed upon him her anxious -inquiring eyes. "It is quite true, Arthur! There is nothing behind that -you are hiding from me?" she said, with her lips almost touching his -cheek, and her wistful eyes searching his meaning. "Oh, my dear boy, -don't hide anything from me. I am able to bear it, Arthur. Whatever it -is, I ought to know." - -"What I have told you is the simple truth, mother," said Vincent, not -without a pang. "He has made a declaration before the magistrates----" - -Mrs. Vincent started so much that the bed on which she sat shook. -"Before the magistrates!" she said, with a faint cry. Then after a -pause--"But, thank God, it is not here, Arthur, nor at Lonsdale, nor -anywhere where we are known. And he said that--that--he had never harmed -my child? Oh, Arthur, Arthur--your sister!--that she should ever be -spoken of so! And he was not killed? I do not understand it, my dear. I -cannot see all the rights of it; but it is a great comfort to have you -to myself for a moment, and to feel as if perhaps things might come -right again. Hush! I think the doctor must be coming. Speak very low. -My dear boy, you don't mean it, but you are imprudent; and, oh, Arthur, -with a troublesome flock like yours you must not commit yourself! You -must not let your sister's name be talked of among the people. Hush, -hush, I hear the doctor at the door." - -And the widow put her son away from her, and leant her head upon her -hands instead of on his shoulder. She would not even let the doctor -suppose that she had seized that moment to inquire further, or that she -was anything but sure and confident that all was going well. - -"She is in the most beautiful sleep," said the enthusiastic doctor, "and -Nettie is by her. Now, Mrs. Vincent, here is something you must take; -and when you wake up again I will take you to your daughter, and I have -very little doubt you will find her on the fair way for -recovery--recovery in every sense," added Dr. Rider, incautiously; -"twice saved--and I hope you will have no more of such uneasiness as you -have suffered on her behalf." - -"Indeed, I have had very little uneasiness with my children," said Mrs. -Vincent, drawing up her little figure on the bed. "Susan never had a -severe illness before. When she came here first she was suffering from -a--a bad fright, doctor. I told you so at the time; and I was so weak -and so alarmed, Arthur dear, that I fear Dr. Rider has misunderstood me. -When one is not much used to illness," said the mother, with her -pathetic jesuitry, "one thinks there never was anything so bad as one's -own case, and I was foolish and upset. Yes, I will take it, doctor. Now -that I am easy in my mind, I will take anything you please; and you will -let me know if she wakes, or if she stirs. Whatever happens, you will -let me know that moment? Arthur, you will see that they let me know." - -The doctor promised, anxiously putting the draught into her hands: he -would have promised any impossible thing at the moment, so eager was he -to get her persuaded to rest. - -"I have not talked so much for-- I wonder how long it is?" said the -widow, with a faint smile. "Oh, Arthur dear, I feel as if somehow a -millstone had been on my heart, and God had taken it off. Doctor, it -is--it is--all your doing, under Providence," said the little woman, -looking full in his face. Perhaps she believed it--at least she meant -him to believe so. She swallowed the draught he gave her with that smile -upon her face, and laid down her throbbing head in the quietness and -darkness. "Go with the doctor, Arthur dear," she said, denying the -yearning in her heart to question her son farther, lest Dr. Rider might -perhaps suppose all was not so well as she said; "and, oh be sure to -tell me the very moment that Susan wakes?" She watched them gliding -noiselessly out of the room, two dark figures, in the darkness. She lay -down alone, throbbing all over with thrills of pain, which were half -pleasure. She began to be conscious again of her own body and life; and -the wistful curiosity that possessed her was not strong enough to -neutralise the positive unmistakable joy. Susan was recovering. Susan -was innocent. What trouble could there be heavy enough to take away the -comfort out of words like these! - -"Now she will sleep. Mr. Vincent, I congratulate you on having such pure -blood in your veins; not robust, you know, but far better--such sweet, -perfect health as one rarely meets with nowadays," said the doctor, -under his breath, with professional enthusiasm; "all the better for your -sister that she came of such a stock. My wife, now, is another -example--not robust, as I say--natures delicately organised, but in such -exquisite adjustment, and with such elasticity! Mrs. Vincent will go to -sleep like a baby, and wake able for--anything that God may please to -send her," said Dr. Rider with reverence. "They will both sleep till -to-morrow if all goes well. Hush!-- Well, I may be absurd, for neither of -them could hear us here; but still it is best to err on the safe side." - -"But Susan--you are not deceiving us--Susan is----" said Vincent, with -sudden alarm. - -"She is asleep," said Dr. Rider; "and, if I can, I will remain till she -wakes; it is life or death." - -They parted thus--the doctor to the little room below-stairs, where -Vincent's dinner awaited him, and the young minister himself to his own -room, where he went into the darkness with a kind of bewildered -uncertainty and incomprehension of the events about him. To think that -this day, with all its strange encounters and unexpected incidents, was -Sunday, as he suddenly remembered it to be--that this morning he had -preached, and this evening had to preach again, completed in Vincent's -mind the utter chaos and disturbance of ordinary life. It struck him -dumb to remember that by-and-by he must again ascend the pulpit, and go -through all his duties. Was he an impostor, doing all this mechanically? -He debated the question dully in his own mind, as he sat too much -bewildered to do anything else in the dark in his bed-chamber, pondering -with a certain confused gravity and consolation over all that had -happened. But faculties, which are confused by sudden comfort and -relief, are very different from faculties obscured and confounded by -suffering. He sat vaguely in the dark, wondering over his strange -position. This morning, even in the height of his despair, he had at -least some idea what he was going to do in that pulpit of Salem. It was -a sacrifice--a martyrdom to accomplish--a wild outcry and complaint to -pour forth to the world. This evening he sat wasting the precious -moments in the soft darkness, without knowing a word of what he was to -say--without being able to realise the fact, that by-and-by he should -have to go out through the sharp air echoing with church-bells--to see -once more all those watchful faces turned upon him, and to communicate -such instruction as was in him to his flock. A sense of exhaustion and -satisfaction was in Vincent's heart. He sat listless in a vague comfort -and weariness, his head throbbing with the fumes of his past excitement, -yet not aching. It was only now that he realised the rolling off from -his head of this dark cloud of horror and shame. Susan was -recovering--Susan was innocent. He became aware of the facts much in the -same way as his mother became aware of them ere she dropped to sleep in -the blessed darkness of the adjoining room. Confused as he was, with his -brain still full of the pulsations of the past, he was so far conscious -of what had happened. He sat in his reverie, regardless of the time, and -everything else that he ought to have attended to. The little maid came -and knocked at his door to say his dinner had been waiting for an hour, -and he answered, "Yes; he was coming," but sat still in the darkness. -Then the landlady herself, compunctious, beginning to feel the thrills -of returning comfort which had entered her house, came tapping softly to -say it was near six, and wouldn't Mr. Vincent take something before it -was time for chapel? Mr. Vincent said "Yes" again, but did not move; and -it was only when he heard the church-bells tingling into the night air -that he got up at last, and, stealing first to the door of Susan's room, -where he ascertained that she still slept, and then to his mother's, -where he could hear her soft regular breathing in the darkness, he went -away in an indescribably exalted condition of mind to Salem and his -duty. There is a kind of weakness incident to excitement of mind and -neglect of body, which is akin to the ecstatic state in which men dream -dreams and see visions. Vincent was in that condition to-night. He was -not careful what anybody would say or think; he no longer pictured to -himself the up-turned faces in Salem, all conscious of the tragedy which -was connected with his name. The sense of deliverance in his heart -emancipated him, and gave a contrary impulse to his thoughts. In the -weakness of an excited and exhausted frame, a certain gleam of the -ineffable and miraculous came over the young man. He was again in the -world where God stoops down to change with one touch of His finger the -whole current of man's life--the world of childhood, of genius, of -faith; that other world, dark sphere of necessity and fate, where -nothing could stay the development into dread immortality of the -obstinate human intelligence, and where dreary echoes of speculation -still questioned whether any change were possible in heart and spirit, -or if saving souls were a mere figure of speech, floated away far off -over his head, a dark fiction of despair. In this state of mind he went -back to the pulpit where, in the morning, he had thrilled his audience -with all those wild complications of thought which end in nothing. Salem -was again crowded--not a corner of the chapel remained unfilled; and -again, many of the more zealous members were driven out of their seats -by the influx of the crowd. Vincent, who had no sermon to preach, and -nothing except the fulness that was in his heart to say, took up again -his subject of the morning. He told his audience with the unpremeditated -skill of a natural orator, that while Reason considered all the -desperate chances, and concluded that wonderful work impossible, God, -with the lifting of His countenance, with the touch of His power, made -the darkness light before Him, and changed the very earth and heavens -around the wondering soul. Lifted out of the region of reasonableness -himself, he explained to his astonished audience how Reason halts in her -conclusions, how miracle and wonder are of all occurrences the most -natural, and how, between God and man, there are no boundaries of -possibility. It was a strange sermon, without any text or divisions, -irregular in its form, sometimes broken in its utterance; but the man -who spoke was in a "rapture"--a state of fasting and ecstasy. He saw -indistinctly that there were glistening eyes in the crowd, and felt what -was somewhat an unusual consciousness--that his heart had made -communications to other hearts in his audience almost without his -knowing it; but he did not observe that nobody came to the vestry to -congratulate him, that Tozer looked disturbed, and that the deacons -averted their benign countenances. When he had done his work, he went -home without waiting to talk to anybody--without, indeed, thinking any -more of Salem--through the crowd, in the darkness, passing group after -group in earnest discussion of the minister. He went back still in that -exalted condition of mind, unaware that he passed Mrs. Tozer and -Phoebe, who were much disposed to join him--and was in his own house -sooner than most of his congregation. All within was quiet, lost in the -most grateful and profound stillness. Sleep seemed to brood over the -delivered house. Vincent spoke to the doctor, who still waited, and -whose hopes were rising higher and higher, and then ate something, and -said his prayers, and went to rest like a child. The family, so worn out -with labour, and trial, and sorrow, slept profoundly under the quiet -stars. Those hard heavens, from which an indifferent God saw the -Innocents murdered and made no sign, had melted into the sweet natural -firmament, above which the great Father watches unwearied. The sudden -change was more than mere deliverance to the young Nonconformist. He -slept and took rest in the sweet surprise and thankfulness of his soul. -His life and heart, still young and incapable of despair, had got back -out of hard anguishes and miseries which no one could soften, to the -sweet miraculous world in which circumstances are always changing, and -God interferes for ever. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -WHEN Vincent awoke next morning, his mother was standing by his bedside. -Her eyes were dewy and moist, a faint tinge of colour was on her sweet -old cheek, and her steps tottered a little as she came up to his bed, -and stooped to kiss him. "Oh, Arthur, my dear boy, she knows me!" said -Mrs. Vincent, putting up her hand to her eyes. "I must not be away from -her a moment, but I could not resist coming to tell you. She knows me, -dear. Make haste and dress, and come and see your sister, Arthur; and I -will give orders about your breakfast as I go back. My dear, I know you -have been anxious," said the widow, putting back his hair fondly with -the soft little hand which still trembled; "though men have not the way -of showing it, I know you have been very anxious. You looked quite pale -and thin as you slept. But I must speak to the landlady now and see -about your food. Come to Susan's room as soon as you are dressed, and I -will order your breakfast, my dear boy," said his mother, going softly -out again, with her tender little figure all beautified and trembling -with joy. Mrs. Vincent met the landlady near the door, and stopped to -speak to her. "My daughter is a great deal better," said the minister's -mother. "I have been so anxious, I have never been able to thank you as -I ought to have done for your kindness and attention. We have been as -quiet as if we had been at home. We will all remember your attention, -though I have never been able to thank you before; and I am sure it is -very gratifying to my son to think it is one of his own flock who has -taken so much pains for us. Mr. Vincent has been very anxious about his -sister," continued the widow; "I fear he has not been taking his food, -nor keeping his regular time for meals. You would oblige me very much if -you would try to have something nice for his breakfast. We were all much -shaken yesterday, being so anxious;--some new-laid eggs perhaps--though -I know they are scarce in a town at this time of the year--or anything -you can think of that will tempt him to eat. I would not say so much," -said Mrs. Vincent, smiling upon the astonished landlady, and leaning to -support her own weakness on the rail of the passage upon which the -staircase opened, "but that I know your kind interest in your minister. -I am sure you will take all the pains you can to get him to attend to -his precious health. Thank you. I am very much obliged." - -With this the little woman passed on, feeling indeed too weak to stand -longer; and leaving the landlady, who had intended to mingle some -statement of her own grievances with her congratulations, with the plea -quietly taken out of her hands, and the entire matter disposed of. Mrs. -Vincent was moving back again to the sick-room, when the door opened -down-stairs, and some one asked for Mr. Vincent, and came up hurriedly. -The minister's mother recognised Tozer's voice, and made a pause. She -was glad of the opportunity to make sure that all was well in the flock. -She leant over the railing to shake hands with the butterman, moved to a -little effusion of thankfulness by the recollection of the state of -anxiety she was in when she saw him last. - -"My son is not up yet," she said. "We were very anxious yesterday. It -was the crisis of the fever, and everything depended upon it. I daresay -you would see how anxious Mr. Vincent was; but, thank heaven, now all is -going on well." - -"You see, ma'am," said Tozer, "it must have all been on the nerves, and -to be sure there ain't nothing more likely to be serviceable than good -news. It's in the paper this morning. As soon as I see it, I said to my -missis, 'This is why the minister was so pecooliar yesterday.' I divined -it in a moment, ma'am; though it wasn't to say prudent, Mrs. Vincent, -and not as you would have advised no more nor myself, to fly off like -that out of chapel, without as much as shaking hands with one o' the -deacons. But I make allowances, I do; and when I see it in the paper, I -said to my missis, 'It's all along o' this Mr. Vincent was so queer.' I -don't doubt as it'll be quite looked over, and thought no more of, when -it's known what's the news." - -"What news?" said Mrs. Vincent, faintly, holding fast by the railing. -"You mean the news of my dear child's recovery," she added, after a -breathless pause. "Have they put it in the papers? I am sure it is very -good, but I never heard of such a thing before. She has been very ill -to be sure--but most people are very ill once in their lives," said the -widow, gasping a little for breath, and fixing her eyes upon the paper -which Tozer held in his hand. - -"Poor soul!" said the deacon, compassionately, "it ain't no wonder, -considering all things. Phoebe would have come the very first day to -say, Could she be of any use? but her mother wasn't agreeable. Women has -their own ways of managing; but they'll both come to-day, now all's -cleared up, if you'll excuse me. And now, ma'am, I'll go on to the -minister, and see if there's anything as he'd like me to do, for Pigeon -and the rest was put out, there's no denying of it; but if things is set -straight directly, what with this news, and what with them sermons -yesterday, I don't think as it'll do no harm. I said to him, as this -Sunday was half the battle," said the worthy butterman, reflectively; -"and he did his best-- I wouldn't say as he didn't do his best; and I'm -not the man as will forsake my pastor when he's in trouble. -Good-morning, ma'am; and my best respects to miss, and I hope as she'll -soon be well again. There ain't no man as could rejoice more nor me at -this news." - -Tozer went on to Vincent's room, at the door of which the minister had -appeared summoning him with some impatience and anxiety. "News? what -news?" said Mrs. Vincent, faintly to herself, as she held by the rail -and felt the light forsaking her eyes in a new mist of sudden dread. She -caught the look of the landlady at that moment, a look of half-pity, -curiosity, and knowledge, which startled her back to her defences. With -sudden firmness she gathered herself together, and went on to the -sick-room, leaving behind her, as she closed the door, the whole -troubled world, which seemed to know better about her most intimate -affairs than she did; and those newspapers, which somehow mentioned -Susan's name, that sweet maiden name which it was desecration to see so -much as named in print. Rather the widow carried that uneasy world in -with her to the sick-room which she had left a few minutes before in all -the effusion of unhoped-for joy. Everything still was not well though -Susan was getting better. She sat down by the bedside where Susan lay -languid and pale, showing the change in her by little more than -quietness and a faint recognition of her mother, and in her troubled -heart began to look the new state of affairs in the face, and to make up -her mind that more of the causes of Susan's illness than she had -supposed known, must have become public. And then Arthur and his flock, -that flock which he evidently had somehow affronted on the previous day. -Mrs. Vincent pondered with all the natural distrust of a woman over -Arthur's imprudence. She almost chafed at her necessary confinement by -her daughter's bedside; if she herself, who had been a minister's wife -for thirty years, and knew the ways of a congregation, and how it must -be managed, could only get into the field to bring her son out of the -difficult passages which she had no faith in his own power to steer -through! So the poor mother experienced how, when absorbing grief is -removed, a host of complicated anxieties hasten in to fill up its -place. She was no longer bowed down under an overwhelming dread, but she -was consumed by restless desires to be doing--cravings to know -all--fears for what might at the moment be happening out of her range -and influence. What might Arthur, always incautious, be confiding to -Tozer even now?--perhaps telling him those "private affairs" which the -widow would have defended against exposure with her very life--perhaps -chafing at Salem and rejecting that yoke which, being a minister, he -must bear. It was all Mrs. Vincent could do to keep herself still on her -chair, and to maintain that quietness which was necessary for Susan. If -only she could have been there to soften his impatience and make the -best of his unnecessary confidences! Many a time before this, the widow -had been compelled to submit to that female tribulation--to be shut up -apart, and leave the great events outside to be transacted by those -incautious masculine hands, in which, at the bottom of her heart, a -woman seldom has perfect confidence when her own supervising influence -is withdrawn. Mrs. Vincent felt instinctively that Arthur would commit -himself as she sat resigned but troubled by Susan's bed. - -Tozer went directly to the door of Vincent's room, where the minister, -only half-dressed, but much alarmed to see the colloquy which was going -on between his mother and the butterman, was waiting for him. The deacon -squeezed the young man's hand with a hearty pressure. His aspect was so -fatherly and confidential, that it brought back to the mind of the young -Nonconformist a certain rueful half-comic recollection of the suppers -in the back parlour, and all the old troubles of the pastor of Salem, -which heavier shadows had driven out of his mind. Tozer held up -triumphantly the paper in his hand. - -"You've seen it, sir?" said the butterman; "first thing I did this -morning was to look up whether there wasn't nothing about it in the -latest intelligence; for the 'Gazette' has been very particular, -knowing, at Carlingford, folks would be interested--and here it is sure -enough, Mr. Vincent; and we nigh gave three cheers, me and the lads in -the shop." - -To this Vincent listened with a darkening brow and an impatience which -he did not attempt to conceal. He took the paper with again that quick -sense of the intolerable which prompted him to tear the innocent -broadsheet in pieces and tread it under foot. The 'Gazette' contained, -with a heading in large characters, the following paragraph:-- - -"THE DOVER TRAGEDY. - -"Our reader will be glad to hear that the unfortunate young lady whose -name has been so unhappily mixed up in this mysterious affair, is likely -to be fully exonerated from the charge rashly brought against her. In -the deposition of the wounded man, which was taken late on Saturday -night, by Mr. Everett, the stipendiary magistrate of Dover, he -distinctly declares that Miss---- was not the party who fired the -pistol, nor in any way connected with it--that she had accompanied his -daughter merely as companion on a hasty journey, and that, in short, -instead of the romantic connection supposed to subsist between the -parties, with all the passions of love and revenge naturally involved, -the ties between them were of the simplest and most temporary character. -We are grieved to add, that the fright and horror of her awful position -had overpowered Miss---- some time before this deposition was made, and -brought on a brain-fever, which, of course, made the unfortunate young -lady, who is understood to possess great personal attractions, quite -unable to explain the suspicious circumstances surrounding her. We have -now only to congratulate her respectable family and friends on her -exoneration from a very shocking charge, and hope her innocence will -soon be confirmed by full legal acquittal. Our readers will find Colonel -Mildmay's deposition on another page. It will be perceived that he -obstinately refuses to indicate who was the real perpetrator of the -deed. Suspicion has been directed to his groom, who accompanied him, in -whom, however, the wounded man seems to repose perfect confidence. He is -still in a precarious state, but little doubt is entertained of his -ultimate recovery." - -"There, Mr. Vincent, that's gratifying, that is," said Tozer, as Vincent -laid down the paper; "and I come over directly I see it, to let you -know. And I come to say besides," continued the butterman with some -diffidence, "as I think if you and me was to go off to Mr. Brown the -solicitor, and give him his orders as he was to put in bail for -Miss---- or anything else as might be necessary--not meaning to use no -disagreeable words, as there ain't no occasion now," said the good -deacon; "but only to make it plain, as you and me is responsible for -her, if so be as she was ever to be called for again. It would be the -thing to do, that would, sir, if you take my advice. It ain't altogether -my own notion, but was put into my head by one as knows. The gentleman -as come here from Dover inquiring into the business was the one as -suggested it to me. He turned out uncommon obliging, and wasn't to say -no trouble in the house; and when word came as the Colonel wasn't dead, -he went away as civil as could be. I'll go with you cheerful to Mr. -Brown, if you'll take my advice, afore Mrs. Vincent gets moving about -again, or the young lady knows what's a-going on; that's what I'd do, -sir, if it was me." - -Vincent grasped the exultant butterman's hand in an overflow of -gratitude and compunction. "I shall never forget your kindness," he -said, with a little tremor in his voice. "You have been a true friend. -Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I will go at once, and accept -this other great kindness from you. I shall never forget what I owe to -you as long as I live." - -"I never was the man to forsake my pastor in trouble--not to say a young -man like you as is a credit to the connection, and the best preacher I -may say as I ever heard in Salem," said Tozer, with effusion, returning -the grasp; "but we ain't a-going a step till you've had your breakfast. -Your good mother, Mrs. Vincent, as is a real lady, sir, and would never -advise you different from what I would myself, being for your own -interests, would have little opinion of me if I took you out on a Monday -mornin' after your labours without so much as a bit o' breakfast to -sustain you. I'll sit by you while you're a-eating of your bacon. -There's a deal to consider of concerning Salem as I couldn't well bring -before you as long as you were in such trouble. Them were uncommon -sermons, sir, yesterday, I don't know as I ever heard anything as was -just to be compared with the mornin' discourse, and most of the flock -was of my opinion; but what is the good of standing up for the pastor--I -ask you candid, Mr. Vincent--when he'll not take no pains to keep things -square? I'm speaking plain, for you can't mistake me as it's anything -but your own interests I am a-thinking of. We was all marching in, -deacons and committee and all, to say as we was grateful to you for your -instructions, and wishing you well out of your trouble--and I was in -great hopes as matters might have been made up--when behold, what we -finds was the vestry empty and the pastor gone! Now, I ain't a-finding -fault. Them news would explain anything; but I don't deny as Pigeon and -the rest was put out; and if you'll be guided by one as wishes you well, -Mr. Vincent, when you've done our business as is most important of all, -you'll go and make some visits, sir, and make yourself agreeable, if -you'll excuse me. It ain't with no selfish thoughts as I speak," said -Tozer, energetically. "It's not like asking of you to come a-visiting to -me, nor setting myself forward as the minister's great friend--though -we was remarking as the pastor was unknown in our house this fortnight -and more--but it's for peace and union, Mr. Vincent, and the good of the -flock, sir, and to keep--as your good mother well knows ain't easy in a -congregation--all things straight." - -When this little peroration was delivered, Vincent was seated at table, -making what he could of the breakfast, in which both his mother and -Tozer had interested themselves. It was with a little effort that the -young man accepted this advice as the character and intentions of his -adviser deserved. He swallowed what was unpalatable in the counsel, and -received the suggestion "in as sweet a frame of mind as I could wish to -see," as Tozer afterwards described. - -"I will go and make myself agreeable," said the minister, with a smile. -"Thank heaven! it is not so impossible to-day as it might have been -yesterday; I left the chapel so hurriedly, because----" - -"I understand, sir," said Tozer, benevolently interposing as Vincent -paused, finding explanation impossible. "Pigeon and the rest was put -out, as I say, more nor I could see was reasonable--not as Pigeon is a -man that knows his own mind. It's the women as want the most managing. -Now, Mr. Vincent, I'm ready, sir, if you are, and we won't lose no -time." - -Before going out, however, Vincent went to his sister's room. She was -lying in an utter quietness which went to his heart;--silent, no longer -uttering the wild fancies of a disordered brain, recovering, as the -doctor thought; but stretched upon her white couch, marble white, -without any inclination apparently to lift the heavy lids of her eyes, -or to notice anything that passed before her--a very sad sight to see. -By her sat her mother, in a very different condition, anxious, looking -into Arthur's eyes, whispering counsels in his ears. "Oh, my dear boy, -be very careful," said Mrs. Vincent; "your dear papa always said that a -minister's flock was his first duty; and now that Susan is getting -better, O Arthur! you must not let people talk about your sister;--and -have patience, O have patience, dear!" This was said in wistful -whispers, with looks which only half confided in Arthur's prudence; and -the widow sank into her chair when he left her, folding her hands in a -little agony of self-restraint and compulsory quietness. She felt equal -for it herself, if she had been at liberty to go out upon the flock once -more in Arthur's cause; but who could tell how he might commit himself, -he who was a young man, and took his own way, and did not know, as Tozer -said, how to keep all things straight? When Mrs. Vincent thought of her -son in personal conflict with Mrs. Pigeon, she lost faith in Arthur. She -herself might have conquered that difficult adversary, but what weapons -had he to bring forth against the deacon's wife, he who was only a -minister and a man? - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -"AND now that's settled, as far as we can settle it now," said Tozer, as -they left the magistrate's office, where John Brown, the famous -Carlingford solicitor, had accompanied them, "you'll go and see some of -the chapel folks, Mr. Vincent? It'll be took kind of you to lose no -time, especially if you'd say a word just as it's all over, and let them -know the news is true." - -"I will go with you first," said Vincent, who contemplated the -butterman's shop at that moment through a little halo of gratitude and -kindness. He went into the back parlour with the gratified deacon, where -Mrs. Tozer sat reading over again the same 'Gazette' in which poor -Susan's history was summed up and ended. It seemed like a year to -Vincent since he had dined with his mother at this big table, amid the -distant odours of all the bacon and cheese. Mrs. Tozer put down the -paper, and took off her spectacles as her visitor came in. "It's Mr. -Vincent, Phoebe," she said, with a little exclamation. "Dear, dear, I -never thought as the pastor would be such a strange sight in my -house--not as I was meaning nothing unkind, Tozer, so there's no -occasion to look at me. I'm as glad as ever I can be to see the -minister; and what a blessing as it's all settled, and the poor dear -getting well, too. Phoebe, you needn't be a-hiding behind me, child, -as if the pastor was thinking of how you was dressed. She has on her -morning wrapper, Mr. Vincent, as she was helping her mother in, and we -didn't expect no visitors. Don't be standing there, as if it was any -matter to the minister how you was dressed." - -"Oh, ma, as if I ever thought of such a thing!" said Phoebe, extending -a pink uncovered arm out of the loose sleeve of her morning dress to -Vincent, and averting her face; "but to see Mr. Vincent is so like old -times--and everything has seemed so different--and it is so pleasant to -feel as if it were all coming back again. Oh ma! to imagine that I ever -supposed Mr. Vincent could notice my dress, or think of poor me!" added -Phoebe, in a postscript under her breath. The minister heard the -latter words quite as well as the first. After he had shaken the pink, -plump hand, he sat down on the opposite side of the table, and saw -Phoebe, relieved against the light of the window, wiping a tender tear -from her eye. All at once out of the darker and heavier trials which had -abstracted him from common life, the young Nonconformist plunged back -into the characteristic troubles of his position. As usual, he made no -response to Phoebe, found nothing civil to say, but turned with -desperation to Mrs. Tozer, who was luckily about to speak. - -"Don't pay no attention to her, Mr. Vincent; she's a deal too feelin'. -She oughtn't to be minded, and then she'll learn better," said Mrs. -Tozer. "I am sure it wasn't no wish of ours as you should ever stop -away. If we had been your own relations we couldn't have been more took -up; and where should a minister seek for sympathy if it isn't in his own -flock? There ain't nobody so safe to put your trust in, Mr. Vincent, as -Salem folks. There's a many fine friends a young man may have when he's -in a prosperous way, but it ain't to be supposed they would stand by him -in trouble; and it's then as you find the good of your real friends," -continued Mrs. Tozer, looking with some significance at her husband. -Tozer, for his own part, rubbed his hands and stationed himself with his -back to the fire, as is the custom of Englishmen of all degrees. The -husband and wife contemplated Vincent with complacence. With the kindest -feelings in the world, they could not altogether restrain a little -triumph. It was impossible now that the minister could mistake who were -his true friends. - -But just then, strangely enough, a vision of a tender smile, a glance up -in his face, the touch of a soft hand, came to Vincent's mind. His fine -friends! he had but one, and she had stood by him in his trouble. From -Tozer's complacence the minister's mind went off with a bound of relief -to that sweet, fruitless sympathy which was dearer than help. From her -soft perfumy presence to Mrs. Tozer's parlour, with that pervading -consciousness in it of the shop hard by and its store of provisions, -what a wonderful difference! It was not so easy to be grateful as he had -at first thought. - -"Mr. Tozer has been my real friend indeed, and a most honest and -thorough one," said Vincent. "But I don't think I have any other in -Salem so sure and steady," added the minister, after a little pause, -half gratefully, half in bitterness. This sentiment was not, however, -resented by the assembled family. Phoebe leaned over her mother's -chair, and whispered, "Oh, ma, dear! didn't I always say he was full of -feeling?" somewhat to the discomfiture of the person commented on; while -Tozer himself beamed upon the minister from before the blazing fire. - -"I said as we'd pull you through," said Tozer, "and I said as I'd stand -by you; and both I'll do, sir, you take my word, if you'll but stick to -your duty; and as for standing bail in a hundred pound or two," -continued the butterman, magnanimously, "for a poor young creature as -couldn't be nothing but innocent, I don't mind that, nor a deal more -than that, to keep all things straight. It's nothing but my duty. When a -man is a responsible man, and well-known in a place, it's his business -to make use of his credit, Mr. Vincent, sir, and his character, for the -good of his friends." - -"It may be your duty, but you know there ain't a many as would have done -it," said his straight-forward wife, "as Mr. Vincent sees himself, and -no need for nobody a-telling of him. There ain't a many as would have -stood up for the pastor, right and wrong, and finished off with the -likes of this, and the minister don't need us to say so. Dear, dear, Mr. -Vincent, you ain't a-going away already, and us hasn't so much as seen -you for I can't tell how long? I made sure you'd stop and take a bit of -dinner at least, not making no ceremony," said Mrs. Tozer, "for there's -always enough for a friend, and you can't take us wrong." - -Vincent had risen hurriedly to his feet, under the strong stimulant of -the butterman's self-applause. Conscious as he was of all that Tozer had -really done, the minister found it hard to listen and echo, with due -humility and gratitude, the perfect satisfaction of the pair over their -own generosity. He had no thanks to say when thus forestalled. "Oh, ma, -how can you make so much of it?" cried Phoebe. "The minister will -think us so selfish; and, oh, please Mr. Vincent, when you go home, will -you speak to your mother, and ask her to let me come and help with her -nursing? I should do whatever she told me, and try to be a comfort to -her--oh, I should indeed!" said Phoebe, clasping those pink hands. -"Nobody could be more devoted than I should be." She cast down her eyes, -and stood the image of maidenly devotedness between Vincent and the -window. She struck him dumb, as she always did. He never was equal to -the emergency where Phoebe was concerned. He took up his hat in his -hands, and tried to explain lamely how he must go away--how he had -visits to make--duties to do--and would have stuck fast, and lost Mrs. -Tozer's favour finally and for ever, had not the butterman interposed. - -"It's me as is to blame," said the worthy deacon. "If it hadn't have -been as the pastor wouldn't pass the door without coming in, I'd not -have had him here to-day; and if you women would think, you'd see. -We're stanch--and Mr. Vincent ain't no call to trouble himself about us; -but Pigeon and them, you see, as went off in a huff yesterday--that's -what the minister has got to do. You shan't be kep' no longer, sir, in -my house. Duty afore pleasure, that's my maxim. Good mornin', and I hope -as you won't meet with no unpleasantness; but if you should, Mr. -Vincent, don't be disheartened, sir--we'll pull you through." - -With this encouraging sentiment, Vincent was released from Mrs. Tozer's -parlour. He drew a long breath when he got out to the fresh air in the -street, and faced the idea of the Pigeons and other recusants whom he -was now bound to visit. While he thought of them, all so many varieties -of Mrs. Tozer's parlour, without the kindness which met him there, the -heart of the young Nonconformist failed him. Nothing but gratitude to -Tozer could have sent him forth at all on this mission of conciliation; -but now on the threshold of it, smarting from even Tozer's -well-intentioned patronage, a yearning for a little personal comfort -seized upon Vincent's mind. It was his duty to go away towards Grove -Street, where the poulterer's residence was; but his longing eyes -strayed towards Grange Lane, where consolation dwelt. And, besides, was -it not his duty to watch over the real criminal, for whose mysterious -wickedness poor Susan had suffered? It was not difficult to foresee how -that argument would conclude. He wavered for a few minutes opposite -Masters's shop, gave a furtive glance back towards the butterman's, and -then, starting forward with sudden resolution, took his hasty way to -Lady Western's door; only for a moment; only to see that all was safe, -and his prisoner still in custody. Vincent sighed over the thought with -an involuntary quickening of his heart. To be detained in such custody, -the young man thought, would be sweeter than heaven; and the wild hope -which came and went like a meteor about his path, sprang up with sudden -intensity, and took the breath from his lips, and the colour from his -cheek, as he entered at that green garden door. - -Lady Western was by herself in the drawing-room--that room divided in -half by the closed doors which Vincent remembered so well. She rose up -out of the low chair in which she reposed, like some lovely swan amid -billows of dark silken drapery, and held out her beautiful hand to -him--both her beautiful hands--with an effusion of kindness and -sympathy. The poor young Nonconformist took them into his own, and -forgot the very existence of Salem. The sweetness of the moment took all -the sting out of his fate. He looked at her without saying anything, -with his heart in his eyes. Consolation! It was all he had come for. He -could have gone away thereafter and met all the Pigeons in existence; -but more happiness still was in store for him--she pointed to a chair on -the other side of her work-table. There was nobody else near to break -the charm. The silken rustle of her dress, and that faint perfume which -she always had about her, pervaded the rosy atmosphere. Out of -purgatory, out of bitter life beset with trouble, the young man had -leaped for one moment into paradise; and who could wonder that he -resigned himself to the spell? - -"I am so glad you have come," said Lady Western. "I am sure you must -have hated me, and everything that recalled my name; but it was -impossible for any one to be more grieved than I was, Mr. Vincent. Now, -will you tell me about Rachel? She sits by herself in her own room. When -I go in she gives me a look of fright which I cannot understand. Fright! -Can you imagine Rachel frightened, Mr. Vincent--and of me!" - -"Ah, yes. I would not venture to come into the presence of the angels if -I had guilt on my hands," said Vincent, not very well knowing what he -said. - -"Mr. Vincent! what can you mean? You alarm me very much," said the young -Dowager; "but perhaps it is about her little girl. I don't think she -knows where her daughter is. Indeed," said Lady Western, with a cloud on -her beautiful face, "you must not think I ever approved of my brother's -conduct; but when he was so anxious to have his child, I think she might -have given in to him a little--don't you think so? The child might have -done him good perhaps. She is very lovely, I hear. Did you see her? Oh, -Mr. Vincent, tell me about it. I cannot understand how you are connected -with it at all. She trusted in you so much, and now she is afraid of -you. Tell me how it is. Hush! she is ringing her bell. She has seen you -come into the house." - -"But I don't want to see Mrs.--Mrs. Mildmay," said Vincent, rising up. -"I don't know why I came at all, if it were not to see the sun shining. -It is dark down below where I am," said the young man, with an -involuntary outburst of the passion which at that moment suddenly -appeared to him in all its unreasonableness. "Forgive me. It was only a -longing I had to see the light." - -Lady Western looked up with her sweet eyes in the minister's face. She -was not ignorant of the condition of mind he was in, but she was sorry -for him to the bottom of her heart. To cheer him a little could not harm -any one. "Come back soon," she said, again holding out her hand with a -smile. "I am so sorry for your troubles; and if we can do anything to -comfort you, come back soon again, Mr. Vincent." When the poor -Nonconformist came to himself after these words, he was standing outside -the garden door, out of paradise, his heart throbbing, and his pulse -beating in a kind of sweet delirium. In that very moment of delight he -recognised, with a thrill of exaltation and anguish, the madness of his -dream. No matter. What if his heart broke after? Now, at least, he could -take the consolation. But if it was hard to face Mrs. Pigeon before, it -may well be supposed that it was not easy now, with all this world of -passionate fancies throbbing in his brain, to turn away from his -elevation, and encounter Salem and its irritated deacons. Vincent went -slowly up Grange Lane, trying to make up his mind to his inevitable -duty. When he was nearly opposite the house of Dr. Marjoribanks, he -paused to look back. The garden door was again open, and somebody else -was going into the enchanted house. Somebody else;--a tall slight -figure, in a loose light-coloured dress, which he recognised -instinctively with an agony of jealous rage. A minute before he had -allowed to himself, in an exquisite despair, that to hope was madness; -but the sight of his rival awoke other thoughts in the mind of the -minister. With quick eyes he identified the companion of his midnight -journey--he in whose name all Susan's wretchedness had been wrought--he -whom Lady Western could trust "with life--to death." Vincent went back -at the sight of him, and found the door now close shut, through which -his steps had passed. Close shut--enclosing the other--shutting him out -in the cold external gloom. He forgot all he had to do for himself and -his friends--he forgot his duty, his family, everything in the world but -hopeless love and passionate jealousy, as he turned again to Lady -Western's door. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -THUS while Mrs. Vincent sat in Susan's sick-room, with her mind full of -troubled thoughts, painfully following her son into an imaginary and -unequal conflict with the wife of the rebellious deacon; and while the -Salem congregation in general occupied itself with conjectures how this -internal division could be healed, and what the pastor would do, the -pastor himself was doing the very last thing he ought to have done in -the circumstances--lingering down Grange Lane in the broad daylight with -intent to pass Lady Western's door--that door from which he had himself -emerged a very few minutes before. Why did he turn back and loiter again -along that unprofitable way? He did not venture to ask himself the -question; he only did it in an utterly unreasonable access of jealousy -and rage. If he had been Lady Western's accepted lover instead of the -hopeless worshipper afar off of that bright unattainable creature, he -could still have had no possible right to forbid the entrance of Mr. -Fordham at that garden gate. He went back with a mad, unreasoning -impulse, only excusable in consideration of the excited state of mind -into which so many past events had concurred to throw him. But the door -opened again as he passed it. Instinctively Vincent stood still, -without knowing why. It was not Mr. Fordham who came out. It was a -stealthy figure, which made a tremulous pause at sight of him, and, -uttering a cry of dismay, fixed eyes which still gleamed, but had lost -all their steadiness, upon his face. Vincent felt that he would not have -recognised her anywhere but at this door. Her thin lips, which had once -closed so firmly, and expressed with such distinctness the flying shades -of amusement and ridicule, hung apart loosely, with a perpetual quiver -of hidden emotion. Her face, always dark and colourless, yet bearing -such an unmistakable tone of vigour and strength, was haggard and -ghastly; her once assured and steady step furtive and trembling. She -gave him an appalled look, and uttered a little cry. She shivered as she -looked at him, making desperate vain efforts to recover her composure -and conceal the agitation into which his sudden appearance had thrown -her. But nature at last had triumphed over this woman who had defied her -so long. She had not strength left to accomplish the cheat. "You!" she -cried, with a shrill tone of terror and confusion in her voice, "I did -not look for you!" It was all her quivering lips would say. - -The sight of her had roused Vincent. "You were going to escape," he -said. "Do you forget your word? Must I tell her everything, or must I -place you in surer custody? You have broken your word." - -"My word! I did not give you my word," she cried, eagerly. "No. I--I -never said--: and," after a pause, "if I had said it, how do you imagine -I was going to escape? Escape! from what? That is the worst--one cannot -escape," said the miserable woman, speaking as if by an uncontrollable -impulse, "never more; especially if one keeps quiet in one place and has -nothing to do," she continued after a pause, recovering herself by -strange gleams now and then for a moment; "that is why I came out, to -escape, as you say, for half an hour, Mr. Vincent. Besides, I don't have -news enough--not nearly enough. How do you think I can keep still when -nobody sends me any news? How long is it since I saw you last? And I -have heard nothing since then--not a syllable! and you expect me to sit -still, because I have given my word? Besides," after another breathless -pause, and another gleam of self-recovery, "the laws of honour don't -extend to women. We are weak, and we are allowed to lie." - -"You are speaking wildly," said Vincent, with some compassion and some -horror, putting his hand on her arm to guide her back to the house. Mrs. -Hilyard gave a slight convulsive start, drew away from his touch, and -gazed upon him with an agony of fright and terror in her eyes. - -"We agreed that I was to stay with Alice," she said. "You forget I am -staying with Alice: she--she keeps me safe, you know. Ah! people change -so; I am sometimes--half afraid--of Alice, Mr. Vincent. My child is like -her--my child--she did not know me!" cried the wretched woman, with a -sob that came out of the depths of her heart; "after all that happened, -she did not know me! To be sure, that was quite natural," she went on -again, once more recovering her balance for an instant, "she could not -know me! and I am not beautiful, like Lady Western, to please a child's -eye. Beauty is good--very good. I was once pretty myself; any man would -have forgiven me as you did when Alice came with her lovely face; but I -daresay your mother would not have minded had it been she. Ah, that -reminds me," said Mrs. Hilyard, gradually acquiring a little more -steadiness, "that was why I came out: to go to your mother--to ask if -perhaps she had heard anything--from my child." - -"This is madness," said Vincent; "you know my mother could not possibly -hear about your child; you want to escape-- I can see it in your eyes." - -"If you will tell me what kind of things people can escape from, I will -answer you," said his strange companion, still becoming more composed. -"Hush! I said what was true. The governess, you know, had your address. -Is it very long since yesterday when I got that news from Dover? Never -mind. I daresay I am asking wild questions that cannot have any answer. -Do you remember being here with me once before? Do you remember looking -through the grating and seeing----? Ah, there is Mr. Fordham now with -Alice! Poor young man!" said Mrs. Hilyard, turning once more to look at -him, still vigilant and anxious, but with a softened glance. "Poor -minister! I told you not to fall in love with her lovely face. I told -you she was kind, too kind--she does not mean any harm. I warned you. -Who could have thought then that we should have so much to do with each -other?" she resumed, shrinking from him, and trying to conceal how she -shrank with another convulsive shiver; "but you were going to visit -your people or something. I must not keep you, Mr. Vincent; you must go -away." - -"Not till you have returned to the house; and given me your word of -honour," said Vincent, "not to escape, or to attempt to escape; or else -I must tell her everything, or give you up into stronger hands. I will -not leave you here." - -"My word! but women are not bound by their honour; our honour means--not -our word," cried Mrs. Hilyard, wildly; "my parole, he means; soldiers, -and heroes, and men of honour give their parole; you don't exact it from -women. Words are not kept to us, Mr. Vincent; do you expect us to keep -them? Yes, yes; I know I am talking wildly. Is it strange, do you think? -But what if I give you my word, and nobody sends me any further -news--nothing about my child? Women are only wild animals when their -children are taken from them. I will forget it, and go away for -news--news! That is what I want. Escape!" she repeated, with a miserable -cry; "who can escape? I do not understand what it means." - -"But you must not leave this house," said Vincent, firmly. "You -understand what I mean. You must not leave Lady Western. Go with her -where she pleases; but unless you promise on your honour to remain here, -and with her, I shall be obliged----" - -"Hush!" she said, trembling--"hush! My honour!--and you still trust in -it? I will promise," she continued, turning and looking anxiously round -into the dull winter daylight, as if calculating what chance she had of -rushing away and eluding him. Then her eyes returned to the face of the -young man, who stood firm and watchful beside her--agitated, yet so -much stronger, calmer, even more resolute than she; then shrinking back, -and keeping her eyes, with a kind of fascinated gaze, upon his face, she -repeated the words slowly, "I promise--upon my honour. I will not go -away--escape, as you call it. If I should go mad, that will not matter. -Yes, ring the bell for me. You are the stronger now. I will obey you and -go back. You have taken a woman's parole, Mr. Vincent," she went on, -with a strange spasmodic shadow of that old movement of her mouth; "it -will be curious to note if she can keep it. Good-bye--good-bye." She -spoke with a trembling desperation of calmness, mastering herself with -all her power. She did not remove her eyes from his face till the door -had been opened. "I promise, on my honour," she repeated, with again a -gleam of terror, as Vincent stood watching. Then the door closed, -shutting in that tragic, wretched figure. She was gone back to her -prison, with her misery, from which she could not escape. In that same -garden, Vincent, with the sharp eyes of love and despair, even while -watching her, had caught afar off a vision of two figures together, -walking slowly, one leaning on the other, with the lingering steps of -happiness. The sight went to his heart with a dull pang of certainty, -which crushed down in a moment the useless effervescence of his former -mood. His prisoner and he parted, going in and out, one scarcely less -miserable at that moment than the other. In full sight of them both -lingered for the same moment these two in the tenderest blessedness of -life. Vincent turned sharp round, and went away the whole length of the -long road past St. Roque's, past the farthest village suburb of -Carlingford, stifling his heart that it should say nothing. He had -forgotten all about those duties which brought him there. Salem had -vanished from his horizon. He saw nothing in heaven or earth but that -miserable woman going back to her prison, interwoven with the vision of -these two in their garden of paradise. The sight possessed him heart and -spirit; he could not even feel that he felt it, his heart lying stifled -in his bosom. It was, and there was no more to say. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -MRS. VINCENT made many pilgrimages out of the sick-room that day; her -mind was disturbed and restless; she could not keep still by Susan's -side. She went and strayed through her son's rooms, looked at his books, -gave a furtive glance at his linen; then went back and sat down for a -little, until a renewed access of anxiety sent her wandering forth once -more. Then she heard him come in, and went out to see him. But he was -gloomy and uncommunicative, evidently indisposed to satisfy her in any -way, absorbed in his own thoughts. Mrs. Vincent came and sat by him -while he dined, thinking, in her simplicity, that it would be a pleasure -to Arthur. But Arthur, with the unsocial habits of a man accustomed to -live alone, had already set up a book before him while he ate, leaving -his mother to wonder by herself behind what was the world of unknown -thought that rapt her son, and into which her wistful wonder could not -penetrate. But the widow was wise in her generation: she would not worry -him with questions which it was very apparent beforehand that he did not -mean to answer. She admitted to herself with a pang of mingled pain, -curiosity, and resignation, that Arthur was no longer a boy having no -secrets from his mother. Once more the little woman looked at the -unreasonable male creature shut up within itself, and decided, with a -feminine mixture of pity and awe, that it must be allowed to take its -own time and way of disclosing itself, and that to torture it into -premature utterance would be foolish, not to say impracticable. She left -him, accordingly, to himself, and went away again, returning, however, -ere long, in her vague restlessness, as she had been doing all day. The -early winter evening had closed in, and the lamp was lighted--the same -lamp which had smoked and annoyed Mrs. Vincent's nice perceptions the -first evening she was in Carlingford. Vincent had thrown himself on a -sofa with a book, not to read, but as a disguise under which he could -indulge his own thoughts, when his mother came quietly back into the -room. Mrs. Vincent thought it looked dark and less cheerful than it -ought. She poked the fire softly not to disturb Arthur, and made it -blaze. Then she turned to the lamp, which flared huskily upon the table. -"It smokes more than ever," said Mrs. Vincent, half apologetically, in -case Arthur should observe her proceedings as she took off the globe. -He, as was natural, put down his book and gazed at her with a certain -impatient wonder, half contemptuous of that strange female development -which amid all troubles could carry through, from one crisis of life to -another, that miraculous trifling, and concern itself about the smoking -of a lamp. As she screwed it up and down and adjusted the wick, with the -smoky light flaring upon her anxious face, and magnifying the shadow of -her little figure against the wall behind, her son looked on with a -feeling very similar to that which had moved Mrs. Vincent when she -watched him eating his dinner with his book set up before him. These -were points upon which the mother and son could not understand each -other. But the sight disturbed his thoughts and touched his temper; he -got up from the sofa and threw down his unread book. - -"You women are incomprehensible," said the young man, with an irritation -he could not subdue--"what does it matter about the lamp? but if the -world were going to pieces you must still be intent upon such -trifles--leave that to the people of the house." - -"But, my dear, the people of the house don't understand it," said Mrs. -Vincent. "Oh Arthur, it is often the trifles that are the most -important. I have had Mrs. Tozer calling upon me to-day, and Mrs. -Tufton. I don't wonder, dear, if you find them a little tiresome; but -that is what every pastor has to expect. I daresay you have been worried -to-day paying so many visits. Hush, there is some one coming up-stairs. -It is Mr. Tozer, Arthur. I can hear his voice." - -Upon which the minister, conscious of not being prepared for Tozer's -questions, gave vent to an impatient ejaculation. "Never a moment's -respite! And now I shall have to give an account of myself," said the -unfortunate Nonconformist. Mrs. Vincent, who had just then finished her -operations with the lamp, looked up reproachfully over the light at her -son. - -"Oh Arthur, consider how kind he has been! Your dear father would never -have used such an expression--but you have my quick temper," said the -widow, with a little sigh. She shook hands very cordially with the good -butterman when he made his appearance. "I was just going to make tea for -my son," said Mrs. Vincent. "I have scarcely been able to sit with him -at all since Susan took ill. Arthur, ring the bell--it is so kind of you -to come; you will take a cup of tea with us while my son and you talk -matters over--that is, if you don't object to my presence?" said the -minister's mother with a smile. "Your dear papa always liked me to be -with him, Arthur; and until he has a wife, Mr. Tozer, I daresay his -mother will not be much in the way when it is so kind a friend as you he -has to talk over his business with. Bring tea directly, please. I fear -you have forgotten what I said to you about the lamp, which burns quite -nicely when you take a little pains. Arthur, will you open the window to -clear the atmosphere of that smoke? and perhaps Mr. Tozer will take a -seat nearer the fire." - -"I am obliged to you, ma'am," said the butterman, who had a cloud on his -face. "Not no nearer, thank you all the same. If I hadn't thought you'd -have done tea, I shouldn't have come troubling Mr. Vincent, not so -soon;" and Tozer turned a doubtful glance towards the minister, who -stood longer at the window than he need have done. The widow's -experienced eye saw that some irritation had risen between her son and -his friend and patron. Tozer was suspicious, and ready to take -offence-- Arthur, alas! in an excited and restless mood, only too ready -to give it. His mother could read in his shoulders, as he stood at the -window with his back to her, that impulse to throw off the yoke and -resent the inquisition to which he was subject, which, all conscious as -he was of not having carried out Tozer's injunctions, seized upon the -unfortunate Nonconformist. With a little tremulous rush, Mrs. Vincent -put herself in the breach. - -"I am sure so warm a friend as Mr. Tozer can never trouble any of my -family at any time," said the widow, with a little effusion. "I know too -well how rare a thing real kindness is--and I am very glad you have come -just now while I can be here," she added, with a sensation of -thankfulness perhaps not so complimentary to Tozer as it looked on the -surface. "Arthur, dear, I think that will do now. You may put up the -window and come back to your chair. You don't smell the lamp, Mr. Tozer? -and here is the little maid with the tea." - -Mrs. Vincent moved about the tray almost in a bustle when the girl had -placed it on the table. She re-arranged all the cups and moved -everything on the table, while her son took up a gloomy position behind -her on the hearthrug, and Tozer preserved an aspect of ominous civility -on the other side of the table. She was glad that the little maid had to -return two or three times with various forgotten adjuncts, though even -then Mrs. Vincent's instincts of good management prompted her to point -out to the handmaiden the disadvantages of her thoughtlessness. "If you -had but taken time to think what would be wanted, you would have saved -yourself a great deal of trouble," said the minister's mother, with a -tremble of expectation thrilling her frame, looking wistfully round to -see whether anything more was wanted, or if, perhaps, another minute -might be gained before the storm broke. She gave Arthur a look of -entreaty as she called him forward to take his place at table. She knew -that real kindness was not very often to be met with in this -cross-grained world; and if people are conscious of having been kind, it -is only natural they should expect gratitude! Such was the sentiment in -her eyes as she turned round and fixed them upon her son. "Tea is ready, -Arthur," said the widow, in a tone of secret supplication. And Arthur -understood his mother, and was less and less inclined to conciliate as -he came forward out of the darkness, where he might look sulky if he -pleased, and sat down full in the light of the lamp, which smoked no -longer. They were not a comfortable party. Mrs. Vincent felt it so -necessary that she should talk and keep them separated, that she lost -her usual self-command, and subjects failed her in her utmost need. - -"Let me give you another cup of tea," she said, as the butterman paused -in the supernumerary meal which that excellent man was making; "I am so -glad you happened to come this evening when I am taking a little -leisure. I hope the congregation will not think me indifferent, Mr. -Tozer. I am sure you and Mrs. Tozer will kindly explain to them how much -I have been occupied. When Susan is well, I hope to make acquaintance -with all my son's people. Arthur, my dear boy, you are over-tired, you -don't eat anything--and you made a very poor dinner. I wish you would -advise him to take a little rest, Mr. Tozer. He minds his mother in most -things, but not in this. It is vain for me to say anything to him about -giving up work; but perhaps a little advice from you would have more -effect. I spoke to Dr. Rider on the subject, and he says a little rest -is all my son requires; but rest is exactly what he will never take. It -was just the same with his dear father--and you are not strong enough, -Arthur, to bear so much." - -"I daresay as you're right, ma'am," said Tozer; "if he was to take a -little more exercise and walking about--most of us Salem folks wouldn't -mind a little less on Sundays, to have more of the minister at other -times. I hope as there wasn't no unpleasantness, Mr. Vincent, between -you and Pigeon when you see him to-day?" - -"I did not see him;--I mean I am sorry I was not able to call on Pigeon -to-day," said Vincent, hastily; "I was unexpectedly detained," he added, -growing rather red, and looking Tozer in the face. "Indeed, I am not -sure that I ought to call on Pigeon," continued the minister, after a -pause; "I have done nothing to offend him. If he chooses to take an -affront which was never intended, I can't help it. Why should I go and -court every man who is sulky or ill-tempered in the congregation? Look -here, Tozer--you are a sensible man--you have been very kind, as my -mother says. I set out to-day intending to go and see this man for your -sake; but you know very well this is not what I came to Carlingford -for. If I had known the sort of thing that was required of me!" cried -Vincent, rising up and resuming his place on the hearthrug--"to go with -my hat in my hand, and beg this one and the other to forgive me, and -receive me into favour:--why, what have I ever done to Pigeon? if he has -anything to find fault with, he had much better come to me, and have it -out." - -"Mr. Vincent, sir," said Tozer solemnly, pushing away his empty teacup, -and leaning forward over the table on his folded arms, "them ain't the -sentiments for a pastor in our connection. That's a style of thing as -may do among fine folks, or in the church where there's no freedom; but -them as chooses their own pastor, and pays their own pastor, and don't -spare no pains to make him comfortable, has a right to expect different. -Them ain't the sentiments, sir, for Salem folks. I don't say if they're -wrong or right-- I don't make myself a judge of no man; but I've seen a -deal of our connection and human nature in general, and this I know, -that a minister as has to please his flock, has got to please his flock -whatever happens, and neither me nor no other man can make it different; -and that Mrs. Vincent, as has seen life, can tell you as well as I can. -Pigeon ain't neither here nor there. It's the flock as has to be -considered--and it ain't preaching alone as will do that; and that your -good mother, sir, as knows the world, will tell you as well as me." - -"But Arthur is well aware of it," said the alarmed mother, interposing -hastily, conscious that to be thus appealed to was the greatest danger -which could threaten her. "His dear father always told him so; yet, -after all, Mr. Vincent used to say," added the anxious diplomatist, -"that nothing was to be depended on in the end but the pulpit. I have -heard him talking of it with the leading people in the connection, Mr. -Tozer. They all used to say that, though visiting was very good, and a -pastor's duty, it was the pulpit, after all, that was to be most trusted -to; and I have always seen in my experience--I don't know if the same -has occurred to you--that both gifts are very rarely to be met with. Of -course, we should all strive after perfection," continued the minister's -mother, with a tremulous smile--"but it is so seldom met with that any -one has both gifts! Arthur, my dear boy, I wish you would eat something; -and Mr. Tozer, let me give you another cup of tea." - -"No more for me, ma'am, thankye," said Tozer, laying his hand over his -cup. "I don't deny as there's truth in what you say. I don't deny as a -family here and there in a flock may be aggravating like them Pigeons, -I'm not the man to be hard on a minister, if that ain't his turn. A -pastor may have a weakness, and not feel himself as equal to one part of -his work as to another; but to go for to say as visiting and keeping the -flock pleased, ain't his duty--it's that, ma'am, as goes to my heart." - -Tozer's pathos touched a lighter chord in the bosom of the minister. He -came back to his seat with a passing sense of amusement. "If Pigeon has -anything to find fault with, let him come and have it out," said -Vincent, bringing, as his mother instantly perceived, a less clouded -countenance into the light of the lamp. "You, who are a much better -judge than Pigeon, were not displeased on Sunday," added the minister, -not without a certain complacency. Looking back upon the performances of -that day, the young Nonconformist himself was not displeased. He knew -now--though he was unconscious at the time--that he had made a great -appearance in the pulpit of Salem, and that once more the eyes of -Carlingford, unused to oratory, and still more unused to great and -passionate emotion, were turned upon him. - -"Well, sir, if it come to be a question of that," said the mollified -deacon; "but no--it ain't that--I can't, whatever my feelings is, be -forgetful of my dooty!" cried Tozer, in sudden excitement. "It ain't -that, Mr. Vincent; it's for your good I'm a-speaking up and letting you -know my mind. It ain't the pulpit, sir. I'll not say as I ever had a -word to say against your sermons: but when the minister goes out of my -house, a-saying as he's going to visit the flock, and when he's to be -seen the next moment, Mrs. Vincent, not going to the flock, but -a-spending his precious time in Grange Lane with them as don't know -nothing, and don't care nothing for Salem, nor understand the ways of -folks like us----" - -Here Tozer was interrupted suddenly by the minister, who once more rose -from his chair with an angry exclamation. What he might have said in the -hasty impulse of the moment nobody could tell; but Mrs. Vincent, hastily -stumbling up on her part from her chair, burst in with a tremulous -voice-- - -"Arthur, my dear boy! did you hear Susan call me?--hark! I fancied I -heard her voice. Oh, Arthur dear, go and see, I am too weak to run -myself. Say I am coming directly--hark! do you think it is Susan? Oh, -Arthur, go and see!" - -Startled by her earnestness, though declaring he heard nothing, the -young man hastened away. Mrs. Vincent seized her opportunity without -loss of time. - -"Mr. Tozer," said the widow, "I am just going to my sick child. Arthur -and you will be able to talk of your business more freely when I am -gone, and I hope you will be guided to give him good advice; what I am -afraid of is, that he will throw it all up," continued Mrs. Vincent, -leaning her hand upon the table, and bending forward confidential and -solemn to the startled butterman, "as so many talented young men in our -connection do nowadays. Young men are so difficult to deal with; they -will not put up with things that we know must be put up with," said the -minister's mother, shaking her head with a sigh. "That is how we are -losing all our young preachers;--an accomplished young man has so many -ways of getting on now. Oh, Mr. Tozer, I rely upon you to give my son -good advice--if he is aggravated, it is my terror that he will throw it -all up! Good-night. You have been our kind friend, and I have such trust -in you!" Saying which the widow shook hands with him earnestly and went -away, leaving the worthy deacon much shaken, and with a weight of -responsibility upon him. Vincent met her at the door, assuring her that -Susan had not called; but with a heroism which nobody suspected--trembling -with anxiety, yet conscious of having struck a master-stroke--his mother -glided away to the stillness of the sick-room, where she sat questioning -her own wisdom all the evening after, and wondering whether, after all, -at such a crisis, she had done right to come away. - -When the minister and the deacon were left alone together, instead of -returning with zest to their interrupted discussion, neither of them -said anything for some minutes. Once more Vincent took up his position -on the hearthrug, and Tozer gazed ruefully at the empty cup which he -still covered with his hand, full of troubled thoughts. The -responsibility was almost too much for Tozer. He could scarcely realise -to himself what terrors lay involved in that threatened danger, or what -might happen if the minister threw it all up! He held his breath at the -awful thought. The widow's Parthian arrow had gone straight to the -butterman's heart. - -"I hope, sir, as you won't think there's anything but an anxious feelin' -in the flock to do you justice as our pastor," said Tozer, with a -certain solemnity, "or that we ain't sensible of our blessin's. I've -said both to yourself and others, as you was a young man of great -promise, and as good a preacher as I ever see in our connection, Mr. -Vincent, and I'll stand by what I've said; but you ain't above taking a -friend's advice--not speaking with no authority," added the good -butterman, in a conciliatory tone; "it's all along of the women, -sir--it's them as is at the bottom of all the mischief in a flock. It -ain't Pigeon, bless you, as is to blame. And even my missis, though -she's not to say unreasonable as women go--none of them can abide to -hear of you a-going after Lady Western--that's it, Mr. Vincent. She's a -lovely creature," cried Tozer, with enthusiasm; "there ain't one in -Carlingford to compare with her, as I can see, and I wouldn't be the one -to blame a young man as was carried away. But there couldn't no good -come of it, and Salem folks is touchy and jealous," continued the worthy -deacon; "that was all as I meant to say." - -Thus the conference ended amicably after a little more talk, in which -Pigeon and the other malcontents were made a sacrifice of and given up -by the anxious butterman, upon whom Mrs. Vincent's parting words had -made so deep an impression. Tozer went home thereafter to overawe his -angry wife, whom Vincent's visit to Lady Western had utterly -exasperated, with the dread responsibility now laid upon them. "What if -he was to throw it all up!" said Tozer. That alarming possibility struck -silence and dismay to the very heart of the household. Perhaps it was -the dawn of a new era of affairs in Salem. The deacon's very sleep was -disturbed by recollections of the promising young men who, now he came -to think of it, had been lost to the connection, as Mrs. Vincent -suggested, and had thrown it all up. The fate of the chapel, and all the -new sittings let under the ministry of the young Nonconformist, seemed -to hang on Tozer's hands. He thought of the weekly crowd, and his heart -stirred. Not many deacons in the connection could boast of being crowded -out of their own pews Sunday after Sunday by the influx of unexpected -hearers. The enlightenment of Carlingford, as well as the filling of the -chapel, was at stake. Clearly, in the history of Salem, a new era had -begun. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -THAT week passed on without much incident. To Vincent and his mother, in -whose history days had, for some time past, been counting like years, it -might have seemed a very grateful pause, but for the thunderous -atmosphere of doubt and uncertainty which clouded over them on every -side. Susan's recovery did not progress; and Dr. Rider began to look as -serious over her utter languor and apathy, which nothing seemed able to -disturb, as he had done at her delirium. The Salem people stood aloof, -as Mrs. Vincent perceived, with keen feminine observation. She could not -persuade herself, as she had tried to persuade Mrs. Tozer, that the -landlady answered inquiries at the door by way of leaving the sick-room -quiet. The fact was, that except Lady Western's fine footman, the sight -of whom at the minister's door was far from desirable, nobody came to -make inquiries except Mrs. Tufton and Phoebe Tozer, the latter of whom -found no encouragement in her visits. Politic on all other points, the -widow could not deny herself, when circumstances put it in her power to -extinguish Phoebe. Mrs. Vincent would not have harmed a fly, but it -gave her a certain pleasure to wound the rash female bosom which had, as -she supposed, formed plans of securing her son. As for Tozer himself, -his visits had almost ceased. He was scarcely to be seen even in the -shop, into which sometimes the minister himself gazed disconsolately -when he strayed out in the twilight to walk his cares away. The good -butterman was otherwise employed. He was wrestling with Pigeon in many a -close encounter, holding little committees in the back parlour. On his -single arm and strength he felt it now to depend whether or not the -pastor could tide it over, and be pulled through. - -As for Vincent himself, he had retired from the conflict. He paid no -visits; with a certain half-conscious falling back upon the one thing he -could do best, he devoted himself to his sermons. At least he shut -himself up to write morning after morning, and remained all day dull and -undisturbed, brooding over his work. The congregation somehow got to -hear of his abstraction. And to the offended mind of Salem there was -something imposing in the idea of the minister, misunderstood and -unappreciated, thus retiring from the field, and devoting himself to -"study." Even Mrs. Pigeon owned to herself a certain respect for the foe -who did not humble himself, but withdrew with dignity into the -intrenchments of his own position. It was fine; but it was not the thing -for Salem. Mrs. Brown had a tea-party on the Thursday, to which the -pastor was not even invited, but where there were great and manifold -discussions about him, and where the Tozers found themselves an angry -minority, suspected on all sides. "A pastor as makes himself agreeable -here and there, but don't take no thought for the good of the flock in -general, ain't a man to get on in our connection," said Mrs. Pigeon, -with a toss of her head at Phoebe, who blushed over all her pink arms -and shoulders with mingled gratification and discomposure. Mrs. Tozer -herself received this insinuation without any violent disclaimer. "For -my part, I can't say as the minister hasn't made himself very agreeable -as far as we are concerned," said that judicious woman. "It's well known -as friends can't come amiss to Tozer and me. Dinner or supper, we never -can be took wrong, not being fine folks but comfortable," said the -butterman's wife, directing her eyes visibly to Mrs. Pigeon, who was not -understood to be liberal in her house-keeping. Poor Phoebe was not so -discriminating. When she retired into a corner with her companions, -Phoebe's injured feelings disclosed themselves. "I am sure he never -said anything to me that he might not have said to any one," she -confessed to Maria Pigeon; "it is very hard to have people look so at me -when perhaps he means nothing at all," said Phoebe, half dejected, -half important. Mrs. Pigeon heard the unguarded confession, and made use -of it promptly, not careful for her consistency. - -"I said when you had all set your hearts on a young man, that it was a -foolish thing to do," said poor Vincent's skilful opponent; "I said he'd -be sure to come a-dangling about our houses, and a-trifling with the -affections of our girls. It'll be well if it doesn't come too true; not -as I want to pretend to be wiser nor other folks--but I said so, as -you'll remember, Mrs. Brown, the very first day Mr. Vincent preached in -Salem. I said, 'He's not bad-looking, and he's young and has genteel -ways, and the girls don't know no better. You mark my words, if he don't -make some mischief in Carlingford afore all's done,'--and I only hope as -it won't come too true." - -"Them as is used to giddy girls gets timid, as is natural," said Mrs. -Tozer; "it's different where there is only one, and she a quiet one. I -can't say as I ever thought a young man was more taking for being a -minister; but there can't be no doubt as it must be harder upon you, -ma'am, as has four daughters, than me as has only one--and she a quiet -one," added the deacon's wife, with a glance of maternal pride at -Phoebe, who was just then enfolding the spare form of Maria Pigeon in -an artless embrace, and who looked in her pink wreath and white muslin -dress, "quite the lady," at least in her mother's eyes. - -"The quiet ones is the deep ones," said Tozer, interfering, as a wise -man ought, in the female duel, as it began to get intense. "Phoebe's -my girl, and I don't deny being fond of her, as is natural; but she -ain't so innocent as not to know how things is working, and what meaning -is in some folks' minds. But that's neither here nor there, and it's -time as we was going away." - -"Not before we've had prayers," said Mrs. Brown. "I was surprised the -first time I see Mr. Vincent in your house, Mr. Tozer, as we all parted -like heathens without a blessing, specially being all chapel folks, and -of one way of thinking. Our ways is different in this house; and though -we're in a comfortless kind of condition, and no better than if we -hadn't no minister, still as there's you and Mr. Pigeon here----" - -The tea-party thus concluded with a still more distinct sense of the -pastor's shortcomings. There was nobody to "give prayers" but Pigeon and -Tozer. For all social purposes, the flock in Salem might as well have -had no minister. The next little committee held in the back parlour at -the butter-shop was still more unsatisfactory. While it was in progress, -Mr. Vincent himself appeared, and had to be taken solemnly up-stairs to -the drawing-room, where there was no fire, and where the hum of the -voices below was very audible, as Mrs. Tozer and Phoebe, getting blue -with cold, sat vainly trying to occupy the attention of the pastor. - -"Pa has some business people with him in the parlour," explained -Phoebe, who was very tender and sympathetic, as might be expected; but -it did not require a very brilliant intelligence to divine that the -business under discussion was the minister, even if Mrs. Tozer's -solemnity, and the anxious care with which he was conveyed past the -closed door of the parlour, had not already filled the mind of the -pastor with suspicion. - -"Go down and let your pa know as Mr. Vincent's here," said Mrs. Tozer, -after this uncomfortable séance had lasted half an hour; "and he's not -to keep them men no longer than he can help; and presently we'll have a -bit of supper--that's what I enjoy, that is, Mr. Vincent; no ceremony -like there must be at a party, but just to take us as we are; and we -can't be took amiss, Tozer and me. There's always a bit of something -comfortable for supper; and no friend as could be made so welcome as the -minister," added the good woman, growing more and more civil as she came -to her wits' end; for had not Pigeon and Brown been asked to share that -something comfortable? For the first time it was a relief to the -butterman's household when the pastor declined the impromptu invitation, -and went resolutely away. His ears, sharpened by suspicion, recognised -the familiar voices in the parlour, where the door was ajar when he went -out again. Vincent could not have imagined that to feel himself -unwelcome at Tozer's would have had any effect whatever upon his -preoccupied mind, or that to pass almost within hearing of one of the -discussions which must inevitably be going on about him among the -managers of Salem, could quicken his pulse or disturb his composure. But -it was so notwithstanding. He had come out at the entreaty of his -mother, half unwillingly, anticipating, with the liveliest realisation -of all its attendant circumstances, an evening spent at that big table -in the back parlour, and something comfortable to supper. He came back -again tingling with curiosity, indignation, and suppressed defiance. The -something comfortable had not this time been prepared for him. He was -being discussed, not entertained, in the parlour; and Mrs. Tozer and -Phoebe, in the chill fine drawing-room up-stairs, where the gas was -blazing in a vain attempt to make up for the want of the fire--shivering -with cold and civility--had been as much disconcerted by his appearance -as if they too were plotting against him. Mr. Vincent returned to his -sermon not without some additional fire. He had spent a great deal of -time over his sermon that week; it was rather learned and very -elaborate, and a little--dull. The poor minister felt very conscious of -the fact, but could not help it. He was tempted to put it in the fire, -and begin again, when he returned that Friday evening, smarting with -those little stinging arrows of slight and injury; but it was too late: -and this was the beginning of the "coorse" which Tozer had laid so much -store by. Vincent concluded the elaborate production by a few sharp -sentences, which he was perfectly well aware did not redeem it, and -explained to his mother, with a little ill-temper, as she thought, that -he had changed his mind about visiting the Tozers that night. Mrs. -Vincent did Arthur injustice as she returned to Susan's room, where -again matters looked very sadly; and so the troubled week came to a -close. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -SUNDAY! It came again, the inevitable morning. There are pathetic -stories current in the world about most of the other professions that -claim the ear of the public; how lawyers prepare great speeches, which -are to open for them the gates of the future, in the midst of the -killing anxieties of life and poverty--how mimes and players of all -descriptions keep the world in laughter while their hearts are breaking. -But few people think of the sufferings of the priest, whom, let trouble -or anxiety come as they please, necessity will have in the inexorable -pulpit Sunday after Sunday. So Vincent thought as he put on his Geneva -gown in his little vestry, with the raw February air coming in at the -open window, and his sermon, which was dull, lying on the table beside -him. It was dull--he knew it in his heart; but after all the strain of -passion he had been held at, what was to preserve him any more than -another from the unavoidable lassitude and blank that followed? Still it -was not agreeable to know that Salem was crowded to the door, and that -this sermon, upon which the minister looked ruefully, was laboured and -feeble, without any divine spark to enlighten it, or power to touch the -hearts of other men. The consciousness that it was dull would, the -preacher knew, make it duller still--its heaviness would affect himself -as well as his audience. Still that was not to be helped now, there it -lay, ready for utterance; and here in his Geneva gown, with the sound in -his ears of all the stream of entering worshippers who were then -arranging themselves in the pews of Salem, stood the minister prepared -to speak. There was, as Vincent divined, a great crowd--so great a crowd -that various groups stood during the whole service, which, by dint of -being more laboured and feeble than usual, was longer too. With a -certain dulness of feeling, half despairing, the minister accomplished -the preliminary devotions, and was just opening his Bible to begin the -work of the day when his startled eye caught a most unlooked-for -accession to the flock. Immediately before him, in the same pew with -Mrs. Tozer and Phoebe, what was that beautiful vision that struck him -dumb for the moment? Tozer himself had brought her in during the -prayers, through the groups that occupied the passage, to his own seat, -where she sat expanding her rustling plumage, and looking round with all -her natural sweetness, and a kind of delightful unconscious patronage -and curiosity, upon the crowd of unknown people who were nobody in -Carlingford. The sight of her struck the young Nonconformist dumb. He -took some moments to recover himself, ere, with a pang in his heart, he -began his dull sermon. It mattered nothing to Lady Western what kind of -a sermon he preached. She was not clever, and probably would never know -the difference; but it went to the young man's heart, an additional pang -of humiliation, to think that it was not his best he had to set before -that unexpected hearer. What had brought the beauty here? Vincent's -dazzled eyes did not make out for some time the dark spare figure beside -her, all sunned over with the rays of her splendour. Mrs. Tozer and -Phoebe on one side, proud yet half affronted, contemplating with awe -and keen observation the various particulars of Lady Western's dress, -were not more unlike her, reposing in her soft beauty within the hard -wooden enclosure of the pew, beaming upon everybody in sweet ease and -composure--than was the agitated restless face, with gleaming uncertain -eyes that flashed everywhere, which appeared at her other side when -Vincent came to be able to see. He preached his sermon with a certain -self-disgust growing more and more intense every time he ventured to -glance at that strange line of faces. The only attentive hearer in -Tozer's pew was Lady Western, who looked up at the young minister -steadily with her sweet eyes, and listened with all the gracious -propriety that belonged to her. The Tozers, for their part, drawn up in -their end of the seat, gave a very divided attention, being chiefly -occupied with Lady Western; and as for Mrs. Hilyard, the sight of her -restlessness and nervous agitation would have been pitiful had anybody -there been sufficiently interested to observe it. Mr. Vincent's sermon -certainly did not secure that wandering mind. All her composure had -deserted this strange woman. Now and then she almost rose up by way -apparently of relieving the restless fever that possessed her; her -nervous hands wandered among the books of the Tozer pew with an -incessant motion. Her eyes gleamed in all directions with a wistful -anxiety and suspicion. All this went on while Vincent preached his -sermon; he had no eyes for the other people in the place. Now and then -the young man became rhetorical, and threw in here and there a wild -flourish to break the deadness of his discourse, with no success as he -saw. He read tedium in all the lines of faces before him as he came to a -close with a dull despair--in all the faces except that sweet face never -disturbed out of its lovely calm of attention, which would have listened -to the Dissenting minister quite as calmly had he preached like Paul. -With a sensation that this was one of the critical moments of his fate, -and that he had failed in it, Vincent dropped into his seat in -exhaustion and self-disgust, while his hearers got up to sing their -hymn. It was at this moment that Tozer walked up through the aisle, -steadily, yet with his heart beating louder than usual, and ascended the -pulpit-stairs to give forth that intimation which had been agreed upon -in the back parlour on Friday. The minister was disturbed in his -uncomfortable repose by the entrance of the deacon into the pulpit, -where the worthy butterman seated himself by Vincent's side. The -unconscious congregation sang its hymn, while the Nonconformist, rousing -up, looked with surprised eyes upon his unexpected companion; yet there -were bosoms in the flock which owned a thrill of emotion as Tozer's -substantial person partially disappeared from view behind the crimson -cushion. Phoebe left off singing, and subsided into tears and her -seat. Mrs. Pigeon lifted up her voice and expanded her person; -meanwhile Tozer whispered ominously, with a certain agitation, in his -pastor's ear-- - -"It's three words of an intimation as I'd like to give--nothing of no -importance; a meeting of the flock as some of us would like to call, if -it's quite agreeable--nothing as you need mind, Mr. Vincent. We wouldn't -go for to occupy your time, sir, attending of it. There wasn't no -opportunity to tell you before. I'll give it out, if it's agreeable," -said Tozer, with hesitation--"or if you'd rather----" - -"Give it to me," said the minister quickly. He took the paper out of the -butterman's hand, who drew back uncomfortable and embarrassed, wishing -himself anywhere in the world but in the pulpit, from which that -revolutionary document menaced the startled pastor with summary -deposition. It was a sufficiently simple notice of a meeting to be held -on the following Monday evening, in the schoolroom, which was the scene -of all the tea and other meetings of Salem. This, however, was no -tea-meeting. Vincent drew his breath hard, and changed colour, as he -bent down under the shadow of the pulpit-cushion and the big Bible, and -read this dangerous document. Meanwhile the flock sang their hymn, to -which Tozer, much discomposed, added a few broken notes of tremulous -bass as he sat by the minister's side. When Mr. Vincent again raised his -head, and sat erect with the notice in his hand, the troubled deacon -made vain attempts to catch his eye, and ask what was to be done. The -Nonconformist made no reply to these telegraphic communications. When -the sinking was ended he rose, still with the paper in his hand, and -faced the congregation, where he no longer saw one face with a vague -background of innumerable other faces, but had suddenly woke up to -behold his battle-ground and field of warfare, in which everything dear -to him was suddenly assailed. Unawares the assembled people, who had -received no special sensation from the sermon, woke up also at the sight -of Vincent's face. He read the notice to them with a voice that tingled -through the place; then he paused. "This meeting is one of which I have -not been informed," said Vincent. "It is one which I am not asked to -attend. I invite you to it, all who are here present; and I invite you -thereafter," continued the minister, with an unconscious elevation of -his head, "to meet me on the following evening to hear what I have to -say to you. Probably the business will be much the same on both -occasions, but it will be approached from different sides of the -question. I invite you to meet on Monday, according to this notice; and -I invite you on Tuesday, at the same place and hour, to meet me." - -Vincent did not hear the audible hum and buzz of surprise and excitement -which ran through his startled flock. He did not pay much attention to -what Tozer said to him when all was over. He lingered in his vestry, -taking off his gown, until he could hear Lady Western's carriage drive -off after an interval of lingering. The young Dowager had gone out -slowly, thinking to see him, and comfort him with a compliment about his -sermon, concerning the quality of which she was not critical. She was -sorry in her kind heart to perceive his troubled looks, and to discover -that somehow, she could not quite understand how, something annoying and -unexpected had occurred to him. And then this uneasy companion, to whom -he had bound her, and whose strange agitation and wonderful change of -aspect Lady Western could in no way account for-- But the carriage rolled -away at last, not without reluctance, while the minister still remained -in his vestry. Then he hurried home, speaking to no one. Mrs. Vincent -did not understand her son all day, nor even next morning, when he might -have been supposed to have time to calm down. He was very silent, but no -longer dreamy or languid, or lost in the vague discontent and dejection -with which she was familiar. On the contrary, the minister had woke up -out of that abstraction. He was wonderfully alert, open-eyed, full of -occupation. When he sat down to his writing-table it was not to muse, -with his pen in his languid fingers, now and then putting down a -sentence, but to write straight forward with evident fire and emphasis. -He was very tender to herself, but he did not tell her anything. Some -new cloud had doubtless appeared on the firmament where there was little -need for any further clouds. The widow rose on the Monday morning with a -presentiment of calamity on her mind--rose from the bed in Susan's room -which she occupied for two or three hours in the night, sometimes -snatching a momentary sleep, which Susan's smallest movement -interrupted. Her heart was rent in two between her children. She went -from Susan's bedside, where her daughter lay in dumb apathy, not to be -roused by anything that could be said or done, to minister wistfully at -Arthur's breakfast, which, with her heart in her throat, the widow made -a pitiful pretence of sharing. She could not ask him questions. She was -silent, too, in her great love and sorrow. Seeing some new trouble -approaching--wistfully gazing into the blank skies before her, to -discover, if that were possible, without annoying Arthur, or -compromising him, what it was; but rather than compromise or annoy him, -contenting herself not to know--the greatest stretch of endurance to -which as yet she had constrained her spirit. - -Arthur did not go out all that Monday. Even in the house a certain -excitement was visible to Mrs. Vincent's keen observation. The landlady -herself made her appearance in tears to clear away the remains of the -minister's dinner. "I hope, sir, as you don't think what's past and gone -has made no difference on me," said that tearful woman in Mrs. Vincent's -hearing; "it ain't me as would ever give my support to such doings." -When the widow asked, "What doings?" Arthur only smiled and made some -half articulate remark about gossip, which his mother of course treated -at its true value. As the dark wintry afternoon closed in, Mrs. -Vincent's anxiety increased under the influence of the landlady's Sunday -dress, in which she was visible progressing about the passages, and -warning her husband to mind he wasn't late. At last Mrs. Tufton called, -and the minister's mother came to a true understanding of the state of -affairs. Mrs. Tufton was unsettled and nervous, filled with a not -unexhilarating excitement, and all the heat of partisanship. "Don't you -take on," said the good little woman; "Mr. Tufton is going to the -meeting to tell them his sentiments about his young brother. My dear, -they will never go against what Mr. Tufton says: and if I should mount -upon the platform and make a speech myself, there shan't be anything -done that could vex you; for we always said he was a precious young man, -and a credit to the connection; and it would be a disgrace to us all to -let the Pigeons, or such people, have it all their own way." Mrs. -Vincent managed to ascertain all the particulars from the old minister's -wife. When she was gone, the widow sat down a little with a very -desolate heart to think it all over. Arthur, with a new light in his -eye, and determination in his face, was writing in the sitting-room; but -Arthur's mother could not sit still as he did, and imagine the scene in -the Salem schoolroom, and how everybody discussed and sat upon her boy, -and decided all the momentous future of his young life in this private -inquisition. She went back, however, beside him, and poured out a cup of -tea for him, and managed to swallow one for herself, talking about Susan -and indifferent household matters, while the evening wore on and the -hour of the meeting approached. A little before that hour Mrs. Vincent -left Arthur, with an injunction not to come into the sick-room that -evening until she sent for him, as she thought Susan would sleep. As she -left the room the landlady went downstairs, gorgeous in her best bonnet -and shawl, with all the personal satisfaction which a member of a flock -naturally feels when called to a bed of justice to decide the future -destiny of its head. The minister's fate was in the hands of his people; -and it was with a pleasurable sensation that, from every house -throughout Grove Street and the adjacent regions, the good people were -going forth to decide it. As for the minister's mother, she went softly -back to Susan's room, where the nurse, who was Mrs. Vincent's assistant, -had taken her place. "She looks just the same," said the poor mother. -"Just the same," echoed the attendant. "I don't think myself as there'll -be no change until----" Mrs. Vincent turned away silently in her -anguish, which she dared not indulge. She wrapped herself in a black -shawl, and took out the thick veil of crape which she had worn in her -first mourning. Nobody could recognise her under that screen. But it was -with a pang that she tied that sign of woe over her pale face. The touch -of the crape made her shiver. Perhaps she was but forestalling the -mourning which, in her age and weakness, she might have to renew again. -With such thoughts she went softly through the wintry lighted streets -towards Salem. As she approached the door, groups of people going the -same way brushed past her through Grove Street. Lively people, talking -with animation, pleased with this new excitement, declaring, sometimes -so loudly that she could hear them as they passed, what side they were -on, and that they, for their part, were going to vote for the minister -to give him another trial. The little figure in those black robes, with -anxious looks shrouded under the crape veil, went on among the rest to -the Salem schoolroom. She took her seat close to the door, and saw Tozer -and Pigeon, and the rest of the deacons, getting upon the platform, -where on occasions more festive the chairman and the leading people had -tea. The widow looked through her veil at the butterman and the -poulterer with one keen pang of resentment, of which she repented -instantly. She did not despise them as another might have done. They -were the constituted authorities of the place, and her son's fate, his -reputation, his young life, all that he had or could hope for in the -world, was in their hands. The decision of the highest authorities in -the land was not so important to Arthur as that of the poulterer and the -butterman. There they stood, ready to open their session, their -inquisition, their solemn tribunal. The widow drew her veil close, and -clasped her hands together to sustain herself. It was Pigeon who was -about to speak. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - -MR. PIGEON was a heavy orator; he was a tall man, badly put together, -with a hollow crease across his waistcoat, which looked very much as if -he might be folded in two, and so laid away out of mischief. His arms -moved foolishly about in the agonies of oratory, as if they did not -belong to him; but he did not look absurd through Mrs. Vincent's crape -veil, as she sat gazing at the platform on which he stood, and taking in -with eager ears every syllable that came from his lips. Mr. Pigeon said -it was Mr. Vincent as they had come there to discuss that night. The -managers had made up their minds as it was a dooty to lay things before -the flock. Mr. Vincent was but a young man, and most in that -congregation was ready to make allowances; and as for misfortunes as -might have happened to him, he wasn't a-going to lay that to the -pastor's charge, nor take no mean advantages. He was for judging a man -on his merits, he was. If they was to take Mr. Vincent on his merits -without no prejudice, they would find as he hadn't carried out the -expectations as was formed of him. Not as there was anything to be said -against his preaching; his preaching was well enough, though it wasn't -to call rousing up, which was what most folks wanted. There wasn't no -desire on the part of the managers to object to his preaching: he had -ought to have preached well, that was the truth, for every one as had -been connected with Salem in Mr. Tufton's time knew as there was a deal -of difference between the new pastor and the old pastor, as far as the -work of a congregation went. As for Pigeon's own feelings, he would have -held his peace cheerful, if his dooty had permitted him, or if he had -seen as it was for the good of the connection. But things was come to -that pass in Salem as a man hadn't ought to mind his own feelings, but -had to do his dooty, if he was to be took to the stake for it. And them -were his circumstances, as many a one as he had spoken to in private -could say, if they was to speak up. - -To all this Mrs. Vincent listened with the profoundest attention behind -her veil. The schoolroom was very full of people--almost as full as on -the last memorable tea-party, but the square lines of the gas-burners, -coming down with two flaring lights each from the low roof, were veiled -with no festoons this time, and threw an unmitigated glare upon the -people, all in their dark winter-dresses, without any attempt at special -embellishment. Mrs. Pigeon was in the foreground, on a side-bench near -the platform, very visible to the minister's mother, nodding her head -and giving triumphant glances around now and then to point her husband's -confused sentences. Mrs. Pigeon had her daughters spread out on one side -of her, all in their best bonnets, and at the corner of the same seat -sat little Mrs. Tufton, who shook her charitable head when the -poulterer's wife nodded hers, and put her handkerchief to her eyes now -and then, as she gazed up at the platform, not without a certain womanly -misgiving as to how her husband was going to conduct himself. The Tozers -had taken up their position opposite. Mrs. Tozer and her daughter had -all the appearance of being in great spirits, especially Phoebe, who -seemed scarcely able to contain her amusement as Mr. Pigeon went on. All -this Mrs. Vincent saw as clearly as in a picture through the dark folds -of her veil. She sat back as far as she could into the shade, and -pressed her hands close together, and was noways amused, but listened -with as profound an ache of anxiety in her heart as if Pigeon had been -the Lord Chancellor. As for the audience in general, it showed some -signs of weariness as the poulterer stumbled on through his confused -speech; and not a restless gesture, not a suppressed yawn in the place, -but was apparent to the minister's mother. The heart in her troubled -bosom beat steadier as she gazed; certainly no violent sentiment -actuated the good people of Salem as they sat staring with calm eyes at -the speaker. Mrs. Vincent knew how a congregation looked when it was -thoroughly excited and up in arms against its head. She drew a long -breath of relief, and suffered the tight clasp of her hands to relax a -little. There was surely no popular passion there. - -And then Mr. Tufton got up, swaying heavily with his large uncertain old -figure over the table. The old minister sawed the air with his white fat -hand after he had said "My beloved brethren" twice over; and little -Mrs. Tufton, sitting below in her impatience and anxiety lest he should -not acquit himself well, dropt her handkerchief and disappeared after -it, while Mrs. Vincent erected herself under the shadow of her veil. Mr. -Tufton did his young brother no good. He was so sympathetic over the -misfortunes that had befallen Vincent's family, that bitter tears came -to the widow's eyes, and her hands once more tightened in a silent -strain of self-support. While the old minister impressed upon his -audience the duty of bearing with his dear young brother, and being -indulgent to the faults of his youth, it was all the poor mother could -do to keep silent, to stifle down the indignant sob in her heart, and -keep steady in her seat. Perhaps it was some breath of anguish escaping -from her unawares that drew towards her the restless gleaming eyes of -another strange spectator there. That restless ghost of a woman!--all -shrunken, gleaming, ghastly--her eyes looking all about in an obliquity -of furtive glances, fearing yet daring everything. When she found Mrs. -Vincent out, she fixed her suspicious desperate gaze upon the crape veil -which hid the widow's face. The deacons of Salem were to Mrs. Hilyard -but so many wretched masquers playing a rude game among the dreadful -wastes of life, of which these poor fools were ignorant. Sometimes she -watched them with a reflection of her old amusement--oftener, pursued by -her own tyrannical fancy and the wild restlessness which had brought her -here, forgot altogether where she was. But Mrs. Vincent's sigh, which -breathed unutterable things--the steady fixed composure of that little -figure while the old minister maundered on with his condolences, his -regrets, his self-glorification over the interest he had taken in his -dear young brother, and the advice he had given him--could not miss the -universal scrutiny of this strange woman's eyes. She divined, with a -sudden awakening of the keen intelligence which was half crazed by this -time, yet vivid as ever, the state of mind in which the widow was. With -a half-audible cry the Back Grove Street needlewoman gazed at the -minister's mother; in poignant trouble, anxiety, indignant -distress--clasping her tender hands together yet again to control the -impatience, the resentment, the aching mortification and injury with -which she heard all this maudlin pity overflowing the name of her -boy--yet, ah! what a world apart from the guilty and desperate spirit -which sat there gazing like Dives at Lazarus. Mrs. Hilyard slid out of -her seat with a rapid stealthy movement, and placed herself unseen by -the widow's side. The miserable woman put forth her furtive hand and -took hold of the black gown--the old black silk gown, so well worn and -long preserved. Mrs. Vincent started a little, looked at her, gave her a -slight half-spasmodic nod of recognition, and returned to her own -absorbing interest. The interruption made her raise her head a little -higher under the veil, that not even this stranger might imagine -Arthur's mother to be affected by what was going on. For everything -else, Mrs. Hilyard had disappeared out of the widow's memory. She was -thinking only of her son. - -As for the other minister's wife, poor Mrs. Tufton's handkerchief -dropped a great many times during her husband's speech. Oh, if these -blundering men, who mismanage matters so, could but be made to hold -their peace! Tears of vexation and distress came into the eyes of the -good little woman. Mr. Tufton meant to do exactly what was right; she -knew he did; but to sit still and hear him making such a muddle of it -all! Such penalties have to be borne by dutiful wives. She had to smile -feebly, when he concluded, to somebody who turned round to congratulate -her upon the minister's beautiful speech. The beautiful speech had done -poor Vincent a great deal more harm than Pigeon's oration. Salem folks, -being appealed to on this side, found out that they had, after all, made -great allowances for their minister, and that he had not on his part -shown a due sense of their indulgence. Somebody else immediately after -went on in the same strain: a little commotion began to rise in the -quiet meeting. "Mr. Tufton's 'it it," said a malcontent near Mrs. -Vincent; "we've been a deal too generous, that's what we've been; and -he's turned on us." "He was always too high for my fancy," said another. -"It ain't the thing for a pastor to be high-minded; and them lectures -and things was never nothing but vanity; and so I always said." Mrs. -Vincent smiled a wan smile to herself under her veil. She refused to let -the long breath escape from her breast in the form of a sigh. She sat -fast, upright, holding her hands clasped. Things were going against -Arthur. Unseen among all his foes, with an answer, and more than an -answer, to everything they said, burning in dumb restrained eloquence -in her breast, his mother held up his banner. One at least was there who -knew Arthur, and lifted up a dumb protest on his behalf to earth and -heaven. She felt with an uneasy half-consciousness that some haunting -shadow was by her side, and was even vaguely aware of the hold upon her -dress, but had no leisure in her mind for anything but the progress of -this contest, and the gradual overthrow, accomplishing before her eyes, -of Arthur's cause. - -It was at this moment that Tozer rose up to make that famous speech -which has immortalised him in the connection, and for which the Homerton -students, in their enthusiasm, voted a piece of plate to the worthy -butterman. The face of the Salem firmament was cloudy when Tozer rose; -suggestions of discontent were surging among the audience. Heads of -families were stretching over the benches to confide to each other how -long it was since they had seen the minister; how he never had visited -as he ought; and how desirable "a change" might prove. Spiteful glances -of triumph sought poor Phoebe and her mother upon their bench, where -the two began to fail in their courage, and laughed no longer. A crisis -was approaching. Mrs. Tufton picked up her handkerchief, and sat erect, -with a frightened face; she, too, knew the symptoms of the coming storm. - -Such were the circumstances under which Tozer rose in the pastor's -defence. - -"Ladies and gentlemen," said Tozer,--"and Mr. Chairman, as I ought to -have said first, if this meeting had been constituted like most other -meetings have been in Salem; but, my friends, we haven't met not in -what I would call an honest and straight-forward way, and consequently -we ain't in order, not as a free assembly should be, as has met to know -its own mind, and not to be dictated to by nobody. There are them as are -ready to dictate in every body of men. I don't name no names; I don't -make no suggestions; what I'm a-stating of is a general truth as is well -known to every one as has studied philosophy. I don't come here -pretending as I'm a learned man, nor one as knows better nor my -neighbours. I'm a plain man, as likes everything fair and aboveboard, -and is content when I'm well off. What I've got to say to you, ladies -and gentlemen, ain't no grumbling nor reflecting upon them as is absent -and can't defend themselves. I've got two things to say--first, as I -think you haven't been called together not in an open way; and, second, -that I think us Salem folks, as ought to know better, is a-quarrelling -with our bread-and-butter, and don't know when we're well off! - -"Yes, ladies and gentlemen! them's my sentiments! we don't know when -we're well off! and if we don't mind, we'll find out how matters really -is when we've been and disgusted the pastor, and drove him to throw it -all up. Such a thing ain't uncommon; many and many's the one in our -connection as has come out for the ministry, meaning nothing but to -stick to it, and has been drove by them as is to be found in every -flock--them as is always ready to dictate--to throw it all up. My -friends, the pastor as is the subject of this meeting"--here Tozer sank -his voice and looked round with a certain solemnity--"Mr. Vincent, -ladies and gentlemen, as has doubled the seat-holders in Salem in six -months' work, and, I make bold to say, brought one-half of you as is -here to be regular at chapel, and take an interest in the -connection-- Mr. Vincent, I say, as you're all collected here to knock -down in the dark, if so be as you are willing to be dictated to--the -same, ladies and gentlemen, as we're a-discussing of to-night--told us -all, it ain't so very long ago, in the crowdedest meeting as I ever see, -in the biggest public hall in Carlingford--as we weren't keeping up to -the standard of the old Nonconformists, nor showing, as we ought, what a -voluntary church could do. It ain't pleasant to hear of, for us as -thinks a deal of ourselves; but that is what the pastor said, and there -was not a man as could contradict it. Now, I ask you, ladies and -gentlemen, what is the reason? It's all along of this as we're doing -to-night. We've got a precious young man, as Mr. Tufton tells you, and a -clever young man, as nobody tries for to deny; and there ain't a single -blessed reason on this earth why he shouldn't go on as he's been -a-doing, till, Salem bein' crowded out to the doors (as it's been two -Sundays back), we'd have had to build a new chapel, and took a place in -our connection as we've never yet took in Carlingford!" - -Mr. Tozer paused to wipe his heated forehead, and ease his excited bosom -with a long breath; his audience paused with him, taking breath with the -orator in a slight universal rustle, which is the most genuine -applause. The worthy butterman resumed in a lowered and emphatic tone. - -"But it ain't to be," said Tozer, looking round him with a tragic frown, -and shaking his head slowly. "Them as is always a-finding fault, and -always a-setting up to dictate, has set their faces again' all that. -It's the way of some folks in our connection, ladies and gentlemen; a -minister ain't to be allowed to go on building up a chapel, and making -hisself useful in the world. He ain't to be left alone to do his dooty -as his best friends approve. He's to be took down out of his pulpit, and -took to pieces behind his back, and made a talk and a scandal of to the -whole connection! It's not his preaching as he's judged by, nor his -dooty to the sick and dyin', nor any of them things as he was called to -be pastor for; but it's if he's seen going to one house more nor -another, or if he calls often enough on this one or t'other, and goes to -all the tea-drinkings. My opinion is," said Tozer, suddenly breaking off -into jocularity, "as a young man as may-be isn't a marrying man, and -anyhow can't marry more nor one, ain't in the safest place at Salem -tea-drinkings; but that's neither here nor there. If the ladies haven't -no pity, us men can't do nothing in that matter; but what I say is -this," continued the butterman, once more becoming solemn; "to go for to -judge the pastor of a flock, not by the dooty he does to his flock, but -by the times he calls at one house or another, and the way he makes -hisself agreeable at one place or another, ain't a thing to be done by -them as prides themselves on being Christians and Dissenters. It's not -like Christians--and if it's like Dissenters the more's the pity. It's -mean, that's what it is," cried Tozer, with fine scorn; "it's like a -parcel of old women, if the ladies won't mind me saying so. It's beneath -us as has liberty of conscience to fight for, and has to set an example -before the Church folks as don't know no better. But it's what is done -in our connection," added the good deacon with pathos, shaking his -forefinger mournfully at the crowd. "When there's a young man as is -clever and talented, and fills a chapel, and gives the connection a -chance of standing up in the world as it ought, here's some one as jumps -up and says, 'The pastor don't come to see me,' says he--'the pastor -don't do his duty--he ain't the man for Salem.' And them as is always in -every flock ready to do a mischief, takes it up; and there's talk of a -change, and meetings is called, and--here we are! Yes, ladies and -gentlemen, here we are! We've called a meeting, all in the dark, and -give him no chance of defending himself; and them as is at the head of -this movement is calling upon us to dismiss Mr. Vincent. But let me tell -you," continued Tozer, lowering his voice with a dramatic intuition, and -shaking his forefinger still more emphatically in the face of the -startled audience, "that this ain't no question of dismissing Mr. -Vincent; it's a matter of disgusting Mr. Vincent, that's what it -is--it's a matter of turning another promising young man away from the -connection, and driving him to throw it all up. You mark what I say. -It's what we're doing most places, us Dissenters; them as is talented -and promising and can get a better living working for the world than -working for the chapel, and won't give in to be worried about calling -here and calling there--we're a-driving of them out of the connection, -that's what we're doing! I could reckon up as many as six or seven as -has been drove off already, and I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, what's -the good of subscribing and keeping up of colleges and so forth, if -that's how you're a-going to serve every clever young man as trusts -hisself to be your pastor? I'm a man as don't feel no shame to say that -the minister, being took up with his family affairs and his studies, has -been for weeks as he hasn't crossed my door; but am I that poor-spirited -as I would drive away a young man as is one of the best preachers in the -connection, because he don't come, not every day, to see me? No, my -friends! them as would ever suspect such a thing of me don't know who -they're a-dealing with; and I tell you, ladies and gentlemen, as this is -a question as must come home to every one of your bosoms. Them as is so -set upon their own way that they can't hear reason--or them as is led -away by folks as like to dictate--may give their voice again' the -minister, if so be as they think fit; but as for me, and them as stands -by me, I ain't a-going to give in to no such tyranny! It shall never be -said in our connection as a clever young man was drove away from -Carlingford, and I had part in it. There's the credit o' the -denomination to keep up among the Church folks--and there's the chapel -to fill, as never had half the sittings let before--and there's Mr. -Vincent, as is the cleverest young man I ever see in our pulpit, to be -kep' in the connection; and there ain't no man living as shall dictate -to me or them as stands by me! Them as is content to lose the best -preaching within a hundred miles, because the minister don't call on two -or three families in Salem, not as often as they would like to see him," -said Tozer, with trenchant sarcasm, "can put down their names again' Mr. -Vincent; but for me, and them as stands by me, we ain't a-going to give -in to no such dictation: we ain't a-going to set up ourselves against -the spread of the Gospel, and the credit o' the connection, and -toleration and freedom of conscience, as we're bound to fight for! If -the pastor don't make hisself agreeable, I can put up with that-- I can; -but I ain't a-going to see a clever young man drove away from Salem, and -the sittings vacant, and the chapel falling to ruin, and the Church -folks a-laughing and a-jeering at us, not for all the deacons in the -connection, nor any man in Carlingford. And this I say for myself and -for all as stands by me!" - -The last sentence was lost in thunders of applause. The "Salem folks" -stamped with their feet, knocked the floor with their umbrellas, clapped -their hands in a furore of enthusiasm and sympathy. Their pride was -appealed to; nobody could bear the imputation of being numbered among -the two or three to whom the minister had not paid sufficient attention. -All the adherents of the Pigeon party deserted that luck-less family -sitting prominent upon their bench, with old Mrs. Tufton at the corner -joining as heartily as her over-shoes would permit in the general -commotion. There they sat, a pale line of faces, separated, by their -looks of dismay and irresponsive silence, from the applauding crowd, -cruelly identified as "them as is always ready to dictate." The occasion -was indeed a grand one, had the leader of the opposition been equal to -it; but Mrs. Pigeon only sat and stared at the new turn of affairs with -a hysterical smile of spite and disappointment fixed on her face. Before -the cheers died away, a young man--one of the Young Men's Christian -Association connected with Salem--jumped up on a bench in the midst of -the assembly, and clinched the speech of Tozer. He told the admiring -meeting that he had been brought up in the connection, but had strayed -away into carelessness and neglect--and when he went anywhere at all on -Sundays, went to church like one of the common multitude, till Mr. -Vincent's lectures on Church and State opened his eyes, and brought him -to better knowledge. Then came another, and another. Mrs. Vincent, -sitting on the back seat with her veil over her face, did not hear what -they said. The heroic little soul had broken down, and was lost in -silent tears, and utterances in her heart of thanksgiving, deeper than -words. No comic aspect of the scene appeared to her; she was not moved -by its vulgarity or oddity. It was deliverance and safety to the -minister's mother. Her son's honour and his living were alike safe, and -his people had stood by Arthur. She sat for some time longer, lost in -that haze of comfort and relief, afraid to move lest perhaps something -untoward might still occur to change this happy state of affairs--keen -to detect any evil symptom, if such should occur, but unable to follow -with any exactness the course of those addresses which still continued -to be made in her hearing. She was not quite sure, indeed, whether -anybody had spoken after Tozer, when, with a step much less firm than on -her entrance, she went forth, wiping the tears that blinded her from -under her veil, into the darkness and quiet of the street outside. But -she knew that "resolutions" of support and sympathy had been carried by -acclamation, and that somebody was deputed from the flock to assure the -minister of its approval, and to offer him the new lease of popularity -thus won for him in Salem. Mrs. Vincent waited to hear no more. She got -up softly and went forth on noiseless, weary feet, which faltered, now -that her anxiety was over, with fatigue and agitation. Thankful to the -bottom of her heart, yet at the same time doubly worn out with that -deliverance, confused with the lights, the noises, and the excitement of -the scene, and beginning already to take up her other burden, and to -wonder by times, waking up with sharp touches of renewed anguish, how -she might find Susan, and whether "any change" had appeared in her other -child. It was thus that the great Salem congregational meeting, so -renowned in the connection, ended for the minister's mother. She left -them still making speeches when she emerged into Grove Street. The -political effect of Tozer's address, or the influence which his new -doctrine might have on the denomination, did not occur to Mrs. Vincent. -She was thinking only of Arthur. Not even the darker human misery by her -side had power to break through her preoccupation. How the gentle -little woman had shaken off that anxious hand which grasped her old -black dress, she never knew herself, nor could any one tell; somehow she -had done it: alone, as she entered, she went away again--secret, but not -clandestine, under that veil of her widowhood. She put it up from her -face when she got into the street, and wiped her tears off with a -trembling, joyful hand. She could not see her way clearly for those -tears of joy. When they were dried, and the crape shadow put back from -her face, Mrs. Vincent looked up Grove Street, where her road lay in the -darkness, broken by those flickering lamps. It was a windy night, and -Dr. Rider's drag went up past her rapidly, carrying the doctor home from -some late visit, and recalling her thoughts to her own patient whom she -had left so long. She quickened her tremulous steps as Dr. Rider -disappeared in the darkness; but almost before she had got beyond the -last echoes of the Salem meeting, that shadow of darker woe and misery -than any the poor mother wist of, was again by Mrs. Vincent's side. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - -"YOU are not able to walk so fast," said Mrs. Hilyard, coming up to the -widow as she crossed over to the darker side of Grove Street, just where -the house of the Miss Hemmings turned its lighted staircase-window to -the street; "and it will not harm you to let me speak to you. Once you -offered me your hand, and would have gone with me. It is a long long -time ago--ages since--but I remember it. I do not come after you for -nothing. Let me speak. You said you were a--a minister's wife, and knew -human nature," she continued, with a certain pause of reverence, and at -the same time a gleam of amusement, varying for a moment the blank and -breathless voice in which she had spoken. "I want your advice." - -Mrs. Vincent, who had paused with an uncomfortable sensation of being -pursued, recovered herself a little during this address. The minister's -mother had no heart to linger and talk to any one at that moment, after -all the excitement of the evening, with her fatigued frame and occupied -mind; but still she was the minister's mother, as ready and prepared as -Arthur himself ought to have been, to hear anything that any of the -flock might have to say to her, and to give all the benefit of her -experience to anybody connected with Salem, who might be in trouble. "I -beg your pardon," said Mrs. Vincent; "my daughter is ill--that is why I -was making so much haste; but I am sure, if I can be of any use to any -member of-- I mean to any of my son's friends"--she concluded rather -abruptly. She did not remember much about this woman, who was strangely -unlike the other people in Salem. When was that time in which they had -met before? The widow's mind had been so swept by the whirlwind of -events and emotions, that she remembered only dimly how and where it was -she had formerly seen her strange companion. - -"Your daughter is ill?" said Mrs. Hilyard; "that is how trouble happens -to you. You are a good woman; you don't interfere in God's business; and -this is how your trouble comes. You can nurse her and be about her bed; -and when she wakes up, it is to see you and be grateful to you. But my -child," she said, touching the widow's arm suddenly with her hand, and -suppressing painfully a shrill tone of anguish in her voice which would -break through, "does not know me. She opens her blue eyes--they are not -even my eyes--they are Alice's eyes, who has no right to my child--and -looks at me as if I were a stranger; and for all this time, since I -parted with her, I have not heard--I do not know where she is. Hush, -hush, hush!" she went on, speaking to herself, "to think that this is -me, and that I should break down so at last. A woman has not soul enough -to subdue her nerves for ever. But this is not what I wanted to say to -you. I gave Miss Smith your son's address----" - -Having said this, she paused, and looked anxiously at the widow, who -looked at her also in the windy gleams of lamplight with more and more -perplexity. "Who is Miss Smith?" asked poor Mrs. Vincent. "Who are--you? -Indeed, I am very sorry to seem rude; but my mind has been so much -occupied. Arthur, of course, would know if he were here, but Susan's -illness has taken up all my thoughts; and--I beg your pardon--she may -want me even now," she continued, quickening her steps. Even the -courtesy due to one of the flock had a limit; and the minister's mother -knew it was necessary not to yield too completely to all the demands -that her son's people might make upon her. Was this even one of her -son's people? Such persons were unusual in the connection. Mrs. Vincent, -all fatigued, excited, and anxious as she was, felt at her wits' end. - -"Yes, your son would know if he were here; he has taken my parole and -trusted me," said the strange woman; "but a woman's parole should not be -taken. I try to keep it; but unless they come, or I have news---- Who am -I? I am a woman that was once young and had friends. They married me to -a man, who was not a man, but a fine organisation capable of pleasures -and cruelties. Don't speak. You are very good; you are a minister's -wife. You don't know what it is, when one is young and happy, to find -out all at once that life means only so much torture and misery, and so -many lies, either done by you or borne by you--what does it matter -which? My baby came into the world with a haze on her sweet soul because -of that discovery. If it had been but her body!" said Mrs. Vincent's -strange companion, with bitterness. "A dwarfed creature, or deformed, -or---- But she was beautiful--she is beautiful, as pretty as Alice; and -if she lives, she will be rich. Hush, hush! you don't know what my fears -were," continued Mrs. Hilyard, with a strange humility, once more -putting her hand on the widow's arm. "If he could have got possession of -her, how could I tell what he might have done?--killed her--but that -would have been dangerous; poisoned what little mind she had left--made -her like her mother. I stole her away. Long ago, when I thought she -might have been safe with you, I meant to have told you. I stole her out -of his power. For a little while she was with me, and he traced us--then -I sent the child away. I have not seen her but in glimpses, lest he -should find her. It has cost me all I had, and I have lived and worked -with my hands," said the needlewoman of Back Grove Street, lifting her -thin fingers to the light and looking at them, pathetic vouchers to the -truth of her story. "When he drove me desperate," she went on, labouring -in vain to conceal the panting, long-drawn breath which impeded her -utterance, "you know? I don't talk of that. The child put her arms round -that old woman after her mother had saved her. She had not a word, not a -word for me, who had done---- But it was all for her sake. This is what -I have had to suffer. She looked in my face and waved me away from her -and said, 'Susan, Susan!' Susan meant your daughter--a new friend, a -creature whom she had not seen a week before--and no word, no look, no -recognition for me!" - -"Oh, I am very sorry, very sorry!" said Mrs. Vincent, in her turn taking -the poor thin hand with an instinct of consolation. Susan's name, thus -introduced, went to the mother's heart. She could have wept over the -other mother thus complaining, moaning out her troubles in her -compassionate ear. - -"I left them in a safe place. I came home to fall into your son's hands. -He might have been sure, had it come to that, that no one should have -suffered for me" said Mrs. Hilyard, with again a tone of bitterness. -"What was my life worth, could any man suppose? And since then I have -not heard a word--not a word--whether the child is still where I left -her, or whether some of his people have found her--or whether she is -ill--or whether-- I know nothing, nothing! Have a little pity upon me, -you innocent woman! I never asked pity, never sought sympathy before; -but a woman can never tell what she may be brought to. I am brought down -to the lowest depths. I cannot stand upright any longer," she cried, -with a wailing sigh. "I want somebody--somebody at least to give me a -little comfort. Comfort! I remember," she said, with one of those sudden -changes of tone which bewildered Mrs. Vincent, "your son once spoke to -me of getting comfort from those innocent young sermons of his. He knows -a little better now; he does not sail over the surface now as he used to -do in triumph. Life has gone hard with him, as with me and all of us. -Tell him, if I get no news I will break my parole. I cannot help -myself--a woman's honour is not her word. I told him so. Say to your -son----" - -"My son? what have you to do with my son?" said Mrs. Vincent, with a -sudden pang. The poor mother was but a woman too. She did not understand -what this connection was. A worn creature, not much younger than -herself, what possible tie could bind her to Arthur? The widow, like -other women, could believe in any "infatuation" of men; but could not -understand any other bond subsisting between these two. The thought went -to her heart. Young men had been known before now to be mysteriously -attracted by women old, unbeautiful, unlike themselves. Could this be -Arthur's fate? Perhaps it was a danger more dismal than that which he -had just escaped in Salem. Mrs. Vincent grew sick at heart. She -repeated, with an asperity of which her soft voice might have been -thought incapable, "What have you to do with my son?" - -Mrs. Hilyard made no answer--perhaps she did not hear the question. Her -eyes, always restlessly turning from one object to another, had found -out, in the lighted street to which they had now come, a belated postman -delivering his last letters. She followed him with devouring looks; he -went to Vincent's door as they approached, delivered something, and -passed on into the darkness with a careless whistle. While Mrs. Vincent -watched her companion with doubtful and suspicious looks through the -veil which, once more among the lights of Grange Street, the minister's -mother had drawn over her face, the unconscious object of her suspicion -grasped her arm, and turned to her with beseeching eyes. "It may be news -of my child?" she said, with a supplication beyond words. She drew the -widow on with the desperation of her anxiety. The little maid had still -the letter in her hand when she opened the door. It was not even for Mr. -Vincent. It was for the mistress of the house, who had not yet returned -from the meeting at Salem. Mrs. Vincent paused upon the threshold, -compassionate but determined. She looked at the unhappy woman who stood -upon the steps in the light of the lamp, gazing eagerly in at the door, -and resolved that she should penetrate no farther; but even in the -height of her determination the widow's heart smote her when she looked -at that face, so haggard and worn with passion and anxiety, with its -furtive gleaming eyes, and all the dark lines of endurance which were so -apparent now, when the tide of emotion had grown too strong to be -concealed. "Have you--no--friends in Carlingford?" said the widow, with -hesitation and involuntary pity. She could not ask her to enter where, -perhaps, her presence might be baleful to Arthur; but the little woman's -tender heart ached, even in the midst of her severity, for the suffering -in that face. - -"Nowhere!" said Mrs. Hilyard; then, with a gleam out of her eyes which -took the place of a smile, "Do not be sorry for me; I want no -friends--nobody could share my burden with me. I am going back--home--to -Alice. Tell Mr. Vincent; I think something must happen to-night," she -added, with a slight shiver; "it grows intolerable, beyond bearing. -Perhaps by the telegraph--or perhaps---- And Miss Smith has this -address. I told you my story," she went on, drawing closer, and taking -the widow's hand, "that you might have pity on me, and understand--no, -not understand; how could she?--but if you were like me, do you think -you could sit still in one place, with so much upon your heart? You -never could be like me--but if you had lost your child----" - -"I did," said Mrs. Vincent, drawing a painful breath at the -recollection, and drawn unwittingly by the sight of the terrible anxiety -before her into a reciprocation of confidence--"my child who had been in -my arms all her life-- God gave her back again; and now, while I am -speaking, He may be taking her away," said the mother, with a sudden -return of all her anxiety. "I cannot do you any good, and Susan may want -me: good-night--good-night." - -"It was not God who gave her back to you," said Mrs. Hilyard, grasping -the widow's hand closer--"it was I--remember it was I. When you think -hardly of me, recollect--I did it. She might have been--but I freed -her--remember; and if you hear anything, if it were but a whisper, of my -child, think of it, and have pity on me. You will?--you understand what -I say?" - -The widow drew away her hand with a pang of fear. She retreated -hurriedly, yet with what dignity she could, calling the little maid to -shut the door. - -When that strange face, all gleaming, haggard, and anxious, was shut out -into the night, Mrs. Vincent went up-stairs very hastily, scarcely able -to give her alarmed withdrawal the aspect of an orderly retreat. Was -this woman mad to whom she had been speaking so calmly? In her agitation -she forgot all the precautions with which she had intended to soften to -her son the fact of her attendance at that meeting of which he had not -even informed her. Pursued by the recollection of that face, she -hastened to Arthur, still in her bonnet and veil. He was seated at the -table writing as when she left him; but all the minister's self-control -could not conceal a certain expectancy and excitement in the eyes which -he raised with a flash of eager curiosity to see who it was that thus -invaded his solitude. "Mother! where have you been?" he asked, with -irritation, when he perceived her. His impatience and anxiety, and the -great effort he had made to subdue both, betrayed him into a momentary -outburst of annoyance and vexation. "Where have you been?" he repeated, -throwing down his pen. "Surely not to this meeting, to compromise me, as -if I had not trouble enough already!" This rude accost put her immediate -subject out of Mrs. Vincent's mind: she went up to her son with -deprecating looks, and put her hand fondly on his head. The tears came -into her eyes, not because his words offended or grieved her, but for -joy of the good news she had to tell; for the minister's mother was -experienced in the ways of man, and knew how many things a woman does -for love which she gets no thanks for doing. Her boy's anger did not -make her angry, but it drove other matters, less important, out of her -head. - -"Oh, Arthur, no one saw me," she said; "I had my veil down all the time. -How could I help going when I knew of it? I did not tell you--I did not -mean you to know; but it was impossible to stay away," cried the widow, -perceiving her son's impatience while she explained herself, and growing -confused in consequence, "when I heard what was going on. Oh, Arthur -dear, don't look so disturbed; they know better than you imagine--they -appreciate you, though they have not the way of showing it. I have seen -things happen so differently, that I know the value of such friends as -you have in the flock. Oh, my dear boy, don't look so strange! It has -been a great triumph, Arthur. There is a deputation coming to offer you -their support and sympathy. All this dreadful business has not harmed -you. Thank God for that! I think I shall be able to bear anything now." - -The minister got up hastily from his chair, and took refuge on the -hearthrug. He changed colour; grew red and grew pale; and by way of -escaping from the complication of feelings that moved him, once more -broke out into impatient exclamations. "Why did you go? Why did not you -tell me you were going?" he said. "Why did you leave Susan, who wanted -you? Mother, you will never understand that a man's affairs must not be -meddled with!" cried the Nonconformist, with an instinctive effort to -conceal the agitation into which this unexpected news threw him. Then he -began to pace about the room, exclaiming against the impatience of -women, who can never wait for a result. The young man was too proud to -acknowledge the state of feverish suspense in which he had been, or the -wonderful tumult suddenly produced in his mind. He seized upon this -ready safety-valve of irritation, which was half real and half -fictitious. It gave him time to collect his troubled thoughts. - -"Arthur dear, hush! no one saw me at the meeting. I had my veil down, -and spoke to nobody," said the widow: "and oh! don't you think it was -only natural that your mother should be there? No one in the world is so -much interested in what concerns you. I spoke to no one--except," said -Mrs. Vincent, with a little effort, "that strange woman, Arthur, whom -you have had so much to do with. Who is she? Oh, my dear boy, I hope you -have not formed any connections that you will repent? She said something -about a promise, and having given her word. I don't know why you should -have her word, or what she has to do with you. She came here to the door -with me to-night." - -"Mrs. Hilyard!" cried the minister, suddenly roused. "Mrs.----; no -matter what her name is. Where is she? Do you mean that she came here? -They keep no watch over her. To-night of all nights in the world! If you -had but stayed at home, I should not have known of her wanderings at -least," he said, with vexation. "Now I shall have to go and look after -her--she must be sent back again--she must not be allowed to escape." - -"Is she mad?" said Mrs. Vincent, alarmed, yet relieved. "Don't go away, -Arthur; she is not here. She said I was to tell you that she had gone -back--to Alice. Who is Alice?--who is this woman? What have you to do -with her? Oh! my dear boy, you are a minister, and the world is so ready -to make remarks. She said you had her word. Oh, Arthur, I hope it does -not mean anything you will live to repent?" cried the anxious mother, -fixing her jealous eyes on her son's face. "She is not like you. I -cannot tell what you can have to do with such a woman--you who -might----" Mrs. Vincent's fright and anxiety exhausted both her language -and her breath. - -"It does not matter much after all," said the Nonconformist, who had -been busy with his own thoughts, and had only half heard his mother's -adjurations. "Like me?--what has that to do with the matter? But I -daresay she will go back, as she said; and now that he is out of danger, -and has not accused her, things must take their chance. Mad? It would -not be wonderful if she were mad. I can sympathise with people when they -are driven out of their wits. Who is this next? Another messenger from -the meeting, or perhaps your deputation? I think I shall go mad after a -while if I get no rest." - -But as the minister stood in ill-concealed excitement by the fire, not -without expectation that it might be somebody with an official report -from Salem, Mr. Vincent's landlady, still in her bonnet and shawl, just -returned from the meeting, came in to tell the widow of the approach of -the doctor. "He's a-coming directly, ma'am; he's gone in for a minute -to Smith's, next door, where they've got the hooping-cough. And oh, Mr. -Vincent, sir," cried the woman, who had made this a pretence to express -her sentiments on the more important subject, "if there hasn't a-been a -sweet meeting! I'd have giv' a half-year's rent, ma'am, the pastor had -been there. All as unanimous and as friendly!--all but them Pigeons, as -are the poison of the place; and sweet Miss Phoebe Tozer a-crying of -her pretty eyes out; but there ain't no occasion for crying now," said -the triumphant landlady, who had a real stake in the matter. At this -touch the minister regained his composure. He went back to his seat at -the table, and took up the pen he had thrown down. A bishop could not -have looked more grandly indifferent than did the Nonconformist as he -turned his back upon his anxious partisan. "Tell the doctor to let me -know how Susan is, mother, for I am busy to-night," said the young man. -"I cannot leave my work just now even for Dr. Rider." He began again to -write in the excitement of his mind, and produced a sentence which was -not one of the least successful of his sentences, while the two women -with a certain awe stood silent behind his chair. - -"I will not disturb you any longer, my dear boy. Good-night," said Mrs. -Vincent. She went away, followed by the discomfited landlady, who was -overwhelmed, and did not know what to make of it. The widow could not -but improve such an opportunity. "The minister must not be disturbed in -his studies," she said, with importance and in a whisper as she closed -the door. "When he is engaged with a subject, it does not answer to go -in upon him and disturb his attention. Neither meetings nor anything -else, however important, should interrupt a pastor when he is engaged in -composition," said the little woman, grandly. But while the mistress of -the house departed to her own quarter much overawed, the minister's -mother went to the sick-room with no such composure as she assumed. -Something she did not understand was in Arthur's mind. The Salem meeting -did not appear to her so conclusive as it had done an hour ago. He was -young and high-spirited and proud, and had not that dutiful subjection -to the opinions of the flock which became a minister of Salem. What if -that visionary horror with which she had frightened Tozer might turn out -a real danger? Though she had made such skilful use of it, the -possibility she had herself invented had not really alarmed her; but the -thought thrilled through her now with a fear which had some remorse in -it. She had invoked the ghost, not much believing in any such -supernatural climax; but if the apparition really made itself visible, -the widow recognised at once her entire want of any power to lay it. She -took off her shawl and bonnet with little comfort in her mind on that -subject to support her under the returning pangs of anxiety about Susan, -which overwhelmed her again as she opened the door of the sick-room. The -two troubles united in her heart and aggravated each other, as with a -sick throb of expectation she went in to Susan's bedside. Perhaps there -might be "a change"--for better or for worse, something might have -happened. The doctor might find something more conclusive to-night in -that languid pallid face. The noiseless room struck her with a chill of -misery as she went to her usual place, carrying the active life of pain -and a troubled heart into that melancholy atmosphere from which life -seemed to have fled. With a faltering voice she spoke to Susan, who -showed no signs of hearing her except by a feeble half-lifting of her -heavy eyelids and restless motion of her frame. No change! Never any -change! or, at least, as the nurse imagined, until---- The widow's heart -heaved with a silent sob of anguish--anguish sharp and acute as it is -when our misery breaks suddenly upon us out of a veil of other thoughts, -and we feel it intolerable. This sudden pang convulsed Mrs. Vincent's -much-tried heart as she wiped the bitter tears out of her eyes and -looked at her child, thus gliding, in a hopeless apathy and -unconsciousness, out of the arms that strained themselves in vain to -hold her. After so much as she had borne in her troubled life, God knows -it was hard. She did not rebel, but her heart lifted up a bitter cry to -the Father in heaven. - -It was just then, while her anxious ear caught the step of the doctor on -the stair, that Mrs. Vincent was aware also of a carriage driving -rapidly up to the door. Preoccupied as she was, the sound startled her. -A passing wonder who it could be, and the vague expectation which -influences the mind at the great crises of life, when one feels that -anything may happen, moved her dimly as she rose to receive the doctor. -Dr. Rider came in with his noiseless step and anxious face; they shook -hands with each other mechanically, she gazing at him to see what his -opinion was before it could be formed--he looking with solicitous -serious eyes on the sick-bed. The light was dim, and Dr. Rider held it -up to see his patient. There she lay, moving now and then with the -restlessness of weakness, the pale large eyelids half closed, the pale -lips dropping apart,--a solemn speechless creature, abstracted already -out of this world and all its influences. The light that streamed over -her for the moment made no difference to Susan. There was nothing here -powerful enough to rouse the soul which horror and passion had driven -into one terrible corner of memory, obliterating all the rest of her -life. Dr. Rider looked at her with eyes in which the impatience of -powerless strength overcame even his professional reserve. He wrung the -widow's hand, which she laid on his arm in a trembling appeal to him to -tell her the worst. "The worst is that she is dying before our eyes, and -that she might be saved," he said, leading the poor mother to the other -end of the room. "All her heart and soul are concentrated upon that time -when she was away from you; unless we can rouse her by something that -will recall that time, she will never know you more. Think! is there -nothing that would wake her up even to remember the misery she endured? -Where is your servant who was with her?--but she has seen her lately, -and nothing has come of that. If you have the courage and strength," -said the doctor, once more grasping Mrs. Vincent's hand tight, "to talk -of that man under the name she knew him by--to talk of him so as perhaps -she might hear; to discuss the matter; anything that will recall her -mind. Hush! what is that noise down-stairs?" - -Even while listening to the doctor's dreadful suggestion, Mrs. Vincent -had been aware of the opening of the door down-stairs, and of a sound of -voices. She was trembling so that she could scarcely stand, principally, -no doubt, on account of this strange demand which he made upon her -strength, but with a nervous expectation besides which she could not -explain even to herself. But when, out of that confused commotion below, -there rose faint but audible the sound of a voice calling "Susan! -Susan!" the two anxious people started apart, and turned a wondering -momentary gaze upon each other, involuntarily asking what was that? what -did it mean? Then the doctor rushed to the door, where the widow -followed him as well as her trembling limbs would permit. She saw him -dash down-stairs, and herself stood grasping the railing, waiting for -what was about to happen, with her heart so beating and fluttering in -her breast that she could scarcely breathe for it. She could make -nothing of the rapid interrogation that went on downstairs. She heard -the voice of the doctor in hasty questions, and the slow, agitated, -somewhat confused utterance of a strange voice, which appeared to answer -him; and once or twice through these sounds came the strange cry, -"Susan! Susan!" which went to the widow's heart. Who could this be that -called upon Susan with so pathetic a repetition? It seemed a very long -interval to Mrs. Vincent before the doctor reappeared, and yet so short -was the time, that the door by which the new-comers, whoever they were, -had entered, was still open, admitting some strange familiar sounds from -the street into the bewildering maze of wonder and expectation. Mrs. -Vincent held fast by the rails to support herself, when she saw the -doctor returning up the stair, leading by the hand a girl whom he -grasped fast, and carried along with him by a kind of gentle but strong -compulsion. It was she who was calling Susan, gazing round her with -large dilated blue eyes, looking everywhere for something she had not -yet found. A beautiful girl--more beautiful than anything mortal to the -widow's surprised and wondering eyes. Who was she? The face was very -young, sadly simple, framed by long curling locks of fair hair, and the -broad circle of a large flapping Leghorn hat and blue veil. A bewildered -half-recognition came to Mrs. Vincent's mind as this blue veil waved in -her face in the wind from the open door; but excitement and anxiety had -deprived her of speech: she could ask no questions. "Here is the -physician," said Dr. Rider, with a kindred excitement in his voice. He -went into the room before her, leading the girl, behind whom there -followed slowly a confused and disturbed woman, whose face Mrs. Vincent -felt she had seen before. The mother, half jealous in her wonder, -pressed in after the doctor to guard her Susan even from experiments of -healing. "Doctor, doctor, who is it?" she said. But Dr. Rider held up -his hand imperatively to silence her. The room was imperfectly lighted -with candles burning dimly, and a faint glow of firelight. "Susan!" -cried the eager child's voice, with a weary echo of longing and -disappointment. "Susan!--take me to Susan; she is not here." Then Dr. -Rider led her round to the bedside, closely followed by the widow, and, -lifting a candle, threw its light fully upon the stranger. "Is it -Susan?" said the girl. "Will she not speak to me?--is she dead? Susan, -oh Susan, Susan!" It was an outcry of childish impatience and despair, -rising louder than any voice had risen in that room for many a day. Then -she burst forth into tears and sobs. "Susan!--she will not speak to me, -she will not look at me!" cried the stranger, drawing her arm out of the -doctor's hold, and clasping her hands together. There was a slight -movement in the bed; not the restless tossing with which her nurse was -familiar, but a trembling shiver came over that dying frame. The sound -had reached to the dull ears of the patient. She lifted her heavy -eyelids, and looked round with half-awakened eyes. "Call her again, -again!" said the doctor, in an intense whisper, which seemed to thrill -through the room. The girl, who was engaged with a much more engrossing -interest of her own, took no notice of the doctor. She knew nothing -about Susan's danger--she was bent on gaming succour for herself. -"Susan! tell her to look at me--at me! Susan! I care for nobody but -you!" said the lovely helpless creature, with strange half-articulate -cries, pressing closer to the bed. "You are to take care of me." Mrs. -Vincent pressed forward with pangs of anxiety, of terror, of hope, and -of a mother's tender jealousy through all, as these strange entreaties -filled the room. She too cried aloud, as she perceived the awakening in -that pallid face, the faint movement as if to raise herself up, which -indicated a conscious effort on the part of Susan. The clouds were -breaking on that obscured and hopeless firmament. The light, which -trembled in the doctor's hand, caught a gleam of understanding and life -in Susan's eyes, as her mother flew to raise her up, obeying the -suggestion of that unhoped-for movement. "Susan! you said you would take -care of me!" cried the young stranger, throwing herself upon the bedside -and grasping at the weak arm which once had protected her. The touch of -her hands awoke the slumbering soul. Slowly the light grew in Susan's -eyes. She who had not moved for days except in the restless tossings of -languor, lifted those white feeble arms to put them round the appealing -child. Then Susan struggled up, faint, yet inspired, unconscious of her -mother's help that enabled her to do so, and confronted the strange -people in her room, whom she had seen for weeks past, but did not know, -with living eyes. "Nobody shall touch her--we will protect each other," -said the voice that had grown strange even to her mother's ears. Mrs. -Vincent could hardly be restrained from breaking in with a thousand -caresses and outcries of joy and thankfulness. But Dr. Rider quieted the -poor mother with a touch of his hand. "Let them alone," he said, with -that authority which no one in a sick-room can resist. Mrs. Vincent kept -back with unspeakable pangs in her heart, and watched the waking up of -that paralysed life which, alike in its loss and its recovery, had been -swept apart from her into another world. Without any help from her -mother, without even recognising her mother or distinguishing her from -the strangers round, Susan's soul awoke. She raised herself more and -more among those pillows where a little while ago she lay so -passively--she opened her eyes fully and looked round upon the man by -her bedside, and the other indistinct figures in the room, with a look -of resistance and conscious strength. "We will protect each other," said -Susan, slowly, "nobody shall harm her--we will keep each other safe." -Then, after another interval, other instincts awoke in the reviving -soul. She cast a wistful look from one to another, always drawing her -faint white arm round the girl who clung to her and found security in -her clasp. "Hush, hush! there are women here," she said in a whisper, -and with a tone of strange confusion, light breaking through the -darkness. Then there followed a long pause. Dr. Rider stood by the -bedside holding up his candle, attracting the wandering wistful glances -of his patient, who ceased to look at him with defiance as her eyes -again and again returned to the face, of which, often as it had bent -over her, she had no knowledge. All over the unknown room wandered those -strange looks, interrogating everything with a wistfulness beyond words. -What was this strange unfamiliar world into which, after her trance of -suffering, Susan had awakened? She did not know where she was, nor who -the people were who surrounded her. But the recollection of deadly peril -was not more distinct upon her confused mind than was the sentiment of -safety, of love, and watchfulness which somehow abode in this strange -dim room, in the little undecipherable circle of faces which surrounded -her bed. "Hush!" said Susan again, holding the stranger close. "Here are -women--women! nobody will harm us;" then, with a sudden flush over all -her face and cry of joy as the doctor suddenly threw the light full upon -Mrs. Vincent, who was bending over her, her mind struggled into -possession of itself,--"Here is my mother! she has come to take us -home!" - -Mrs. Vincent remembered nothing more; she did not faint, for her child -wanted her--she sat all the night through on the bed, with Susan leaning -against her shoulder, clinging to her, holding her fast--starting again -and again to make sure that all was safe, and that it was, indeed, her -mother's arms that held her. Her soul was recalled out of that trance of -death. They laid the beautiful child upon the sofa in her young -guardian's sight, to keep up that happy influence; and when the night -was about half spent, the widow, throbbing all over her wearied frame -with exhaustion, pain, and joy, perceived that her Susan had fallen deep -and sweet asleep, clasping close, as if never again to lose hold of -them, her mother's tender hands. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - -THE after-events of the evening naturally lessened, in the minister's -family at least, the all-absorbing interest of the meeting at Salem. -Even Mr. Vincent's landlady, in her wondering narrative of the scene in -the sick-room--which, all Mrs. Vincent's usual decorums being thrust -aside by that unexpected occurrence, she had witnessed--forgot the other -public event which was of equally great importance. The house was in a -state of agitation as great as on Susan's return; and when the exulting -doctor, whose experiment had been so rarely successful, turned all -supernumerary persons out of the sick-room, it fell to Vincent's part to -take charge of the perplexed governess, Miss Smith, who stood outside, -anxious to offer explanations, a fatigued and harassed, but perfectly -virtuous and exemplary woman. Vincent, who had not realised his sister's -extreme peril, and who was rather disconcerted by this fresh invasion of -his house, opened the door of his sitting-room for her with more -annoyance than hospitality. His own affairs were urgent in his mind. He -could not keep his thoughts from dwelling upon Salem and what had -occurred there, though no one else thought of it. Had he known the -danger in which his sister lay, his heart might have rejected every -secondary matter. But the minister did not know that Susan had been -sinking into the last apathy when this sudden arrival saved her. He gave -Miss Smith the easy-chair by the fire, and listened with an appearance -of attention, but with little real understanding, to her lengthy and -perplexed story. She was all in a flutter, the good governess said: -everything was so mysterious and out of the way, she did not know what -to think. Little Alice's mamma, Miss Russell that was, Mrs. Mildmay she -meant, had brought the child back to her after that dreadful business at -Dover. What was the rights of that business, could Mr. Vincent tell her? -Colonel Mildmay was getting better, she knew, and it was not a murder; -and she was heartbroken when she heard the trouble poor dear Miss -Vincent had got into about it. Well, Alice's mamma brought back the -child, and they started with her at once to France. They went up beyond -Lyons to the hills, an out-of-the-way little place, but Mrs. Mildmay was -always so nervous. "And then she left us, Mr. Vincent," said the -afflicted governess, as the minister, in grievous impatience, kept -pacing up and down the room thus occupied and taken possession of--"left -us without a soul to speak to or a church within reach; and if there is -one thing I have more horror of than another for its effect upon the -youthful mind, it is Popery, which is so seductive to the imagination. -Alice did not take to her mamma, Mr. Vincent. It was natural enough, but -it was hard upon Mrs. Mildmay: she never had a good way with children; -and from the moment we started till now, it has been impossible to get -your sister out of the child's mind. She took a fancy to her the moment -she saw her. Girls of that age, if you will not think it strange of me -to say so, very often fall in love with a girl older than -themselves--quite fall in love, though it is a strange thing to say. -Alice would not rest--she gave me no peace. I wrote to say so, but I -think Mrs. Mildmay could not have got my letter. The child would have -run away by herself if I had not brought her. Besides," said Miss Smith, -apologetically, "the doctors have assured me that, if she ever became -much interested in any one, or attached to anybody in particular, she -was not to be crossed. It was the best chance for her mind, the doctors -said. What could I do? What do you think I could do, Mr. Vincent? I -brought her home, for I could not help myself--otherwise she would have -run away. She has a very strong will, though she looks so gentle. I hope -you will help me to explain the circumstances to Mrs. Mildmay, and how -it was I came back without her authority. Don't you think they ought to -call in the friends on both sides and come to some arrangement, Mr. -Vincent?" said the excellent woman, anxiously. "I know she trusts you -very much, and it was she herself who gave me your address." - -To this speech Vincent listened with an impatience and restlessness -which he found it impossible to conceal. He paced about the darker end -of his room, on the other side of that table, where the lamp shone -vacantly upon his open desk and scattered papers, answering now and then -with a mono-syllable of reluctant courtesy, irritated and disturbed -beyond expression by the perfectly serious and proper figure seated by -the fire. Somebody might come from that assembly which had met to -discuss him, and he could not be alone to receive them. In the annoyance -of the moment the minister almost chafed at his sister and her concerns. -His life was invaded by these women, with their mysteries and agonies. -He listened to the steps outside, thinking every moment to hear the -steady tramp of the deputation from Salem, or at least Tozer, whom it -would have been balm to his mind, in the height of the good man's -triumph, to cut short and annihilate. But how do that, or anything else, -with this woman seated by his fire explaining her unintelligible -affairs? Such was Vincent's state of mind while his mother, in an agony -of joy, was hearing from Susan's lips, for the first time, broken -explanations of those few days of her life which outbalanced in terrible -importance all its preceding years. The minister did not know that his -sister's very existence, as well as her reason, hung upon that -unhoped-for opening of her mouth and her heart. - -Matters were not much mended when Dr. Rider came in, beaming and -radiant, full of congratulations. Susan was saved. It was the most -curious psychological puzzle, the doctor said; all her life had got -concentrated into the few days between her departure from Lonsdale and -her arrival at Carlingford. Neither her old existence, nor the objects -that surrounded her at the moment, had any significance for Susan; only -something that belonged to that wonderful interval in which she had -been driven desperate, could win back consciousness to her mind. It was -the most singular case he had ever met with; but he knew this was the -only way of treating it, and so it had proved. He recognised the girl -with the blue veil the moment he saw her--he knew it could be no other. -Who was she? where had she sprung from at that critical moment? where -had she been? what was to be done with her? Dr. Rider poured forth his -questions like a stream. He was full of professional triumph, not to say -natural satisfaction. He could not understand how his patient's brother, -at that wonderful crisis, could have a mind preoccupied or engaged with -other things. The doctor turned with lively sympathy and curiosity from -the anxious Nonconformist to Miss Smith, who was but too willing to -begin all her explanations over again. Dr. Rider, accustomed to hear -many personal narratives, collected this story a great deal more clearly -than Vincent, who was so much more interested in it, had, with all his -opportunities, been able to do. How long the poor minister might have -suffered under this conversation, it is impossible to tell. But Mrs. -Vincent, in all the agitation of her daughter's deliverance, could not -forget the griefs of others. She sent a little message to her son, -begging that he would send word of this arrival to "the poor lady." "To -let her know--but she must not come here to-night," was the widow's -message, who was just then having the room darkened, and everything -arranged for the night, if perhaps her child might sleep. This message -delivered the minister; it recalled Miss Smith to her duty. She it was -who must go and explain everything to her patroness. Dr. Rider, whose -much-excited wonder was still further stimulated by hearing that the -child's mother was at Lady Western's, that she was Mrs. Mildmay, and -that the Nonconformist was in her confidence, cheerfully undertook to -carry the governess in his drag to Grange Lane, not without hopes of -further information; and it was now getting late. Miss Smith made -Vincent a tremulous curtsy, and held out her hand to him to say -good-night. "The doctor will perhaps explain to Mrs. Mildmay why I have -left little Alice," said the troubled woman. "I never left her before -since she was intrusted to me--never but when her papa stole her away; -and you are a minister, Mr. Vincent, and oh, I hope I am doing quite -right, and as Alice's mamma will approve! But if she disapproves I must -come back and----" - -"They must not be disturbed to-night," said Dr. Rider, promptly; "I will -see Mrs. Mildmay." He was not reluctant to see Mrs. Mildmay. The doctor, -though he was not a gossip, was not inaccessible to the pleasure of -knowing more than anybody else of the complications of this strange -business, which still afforded matter of talk to Carlingford. He hurried -her away while still the good governess was all in a flutter, and for -the first time the minister was left alone. It was with a troubled mind -that the young man resumed his seat at his desk. He began to get utterly -weary of this business, and all about it. If he could only have swept -away in a whirlwind, with his mother and sister, where the name of -Mildmay had never been heard of, and where he could for ever get rid of -that haunting woman with her gleaming eyes, who had pursued even his -gentle mother to the door! but this new complication seemed to involve -him deeper than ever in those strange bonds. It was with a certain -disgust that the minister thought it all over as he sat leaning his head -on his hands. His way was dark before him, yet it must speedily be -decided. Everything was at a crisis in his excited mind and troubled -life--even that strange lovely child's face, which had roused Susan from -her apathy, had its share in the excitement of her brother's thoughts; -for it was but another version, with differences, of the face of that -other Alice, who all unwittingly had procured for Vincent the sweetest -and the hardest hours he had spent in Carlingford. Were they all to pass -like a dream--her smiles, her sweet looks, her kind words, even that -magical touch upon his arm, which had once charmed him out of all his -troubles? A groan came out of the young man's heart, not loud, but deep, -as that thought moved him. The very despair of this love-dream had been -more exquisite than any pleasure of his life. Was it all to pass away -and be no longer? Life and thought, the actual and the visionary, had -both come to a climax, and seemed to stand still, waiting the decision -which must be come to that night. - -From these musings the entrance of Tozer roused the minister. The -excellent butterman came in all flushed and glowing from his success. To -him, the meeting, which already the Nonconformist had half lost sight of -under the superstructure of subsequent events, had newly concluded, and -was the one occurrence of the time. The cheers which had hailed him -master of the field were still ringing in Tozer's ears. "I don't deny as -I am intoxicated-like," said the excellent deacon; "them cheers was -enough to carry any man off his legs, sir, if you'll believe me. We've -scattered the enemy, that's what we've been and done, Mr. Vincent. There -ain't one of them as will dare show face in Salem. We was unanimous, -sir--unanimous, that's what we was! I never see such a triumph in our -connection. Hurrah! If it warn't Miss as is ill, I could give it you all -over again, cheers and all." - -"I am glad you were pleased," said Vincent, with an effort; "but I will -not ask you for such a report of the proceedings." - -"Pleased! I'll tell you one thing as I was sorry for, sir," said Tozer, -somewhat subdued in his exultation by the pastor's calmness--"I did it -for the best; but seeing as things have turned out so well, I am as -sorry as I can be--and that is, that you wasn't there. It was from -expecting some unpleasantness as I asked you not to come; but things -turning out as they did, it would have done your heart good to see 'em, -Mr. Vincent. Salem folks has a deal of sense when you put things before -them effective. And then you'd only have had to say three words to them -on the spur of the moment, and all was settled and done with, and -everything put straight; which would have let them settle down steady, -sir, at once, and not kept no excitement, as it were, hanging about." - -"Yes," said the minister, who was moving about his papers, and did not -look up. The butterman began to be alarmed; he grew more and more -enthusiastic the less response he met with. - -"It's a meeting as will tell in the connection," said Tozer, with -unconscious foresight; "a candid mind in a congregation ain't so general -as you and me would like to see, Mr. Vincent, and it takes a bit of a -trial like this, sir, and opposition, to bring out the real attachment -as is between a pastor and a flock." - -"Yes," said Vincent again. The deacon did not know what to make of the -minister. Had he been piqued and angry, Tozer thought he might have -known how to manage him, but this coldness was an alarming and -mysterious symptom which he was unequal to. In his embarrassment and -anxiety the good butterman stumbled upon the very subject from which, -had he known the true state of affairs, he would have kept aloof. - -"And the meeting as was to be to-morrow night?" said Tozer; "there ain't -no need for explanation now--a word or two out of the pulpit is all as -is wanted, just to say as it's all over, and you're grateful for their -attachment, and so forth; you know a deal better, sir, how to do it nor -me. And about the meeting as was called for to-morrow night?--me and the -misses were thinking, though it's sudden, as it might be turned into a -tea-meeting, if you was agreeable, just to make things pleasant; or if -that ain't according to your fancy, as I'm aware you're not one as likes -tea-meetings, we might send round, Mr. Vincent to all the seat-holders -to say as it's given up; I'd do one or the other, if you'd be advised by -me." - -"Thank you--but I can't do either one or the other," said the -Nonconformist. "I would not have asked the people to meet me if I had -not had something to say to them--and this night's business, you -understand," said Vincent, with a little pride, "has made no difference -in me." - -"No, sir, no--to be sure not," said the perplexed butterman, much -bewildered; "but two meetings on two nights consecutive is running the -flock hard, it is. I'd give up to-morrow, Mr. Vincent, if I was you." - -To this insinuating address the minister made no answer--he only shook -his head. Poor Tozer, out of his exultation, fell again into the depths. -The blow was so unlooked-for that it overwhelmed him. - -"You'll not go and make no reflections, sir?" said the troubled deacon; -"bygones is bygones. You'll not bring it up against them, as they didn't -show that sympathy they might have done? You'll not make no reference to -nobody in particular, Mr. Vincent? When a flock is conscious as they've -done their duty and stood by their pastor, it ain't a safe thing, sir, -not to turn upon them, and rake up things as is past. If you'll take my -advice, sir, as wishes you well, and hasn't no motive but your good, I'd -not hold that meeting, Mr. Vincent; or, if you're bent upon it, say the -word, and we'll set to work and give 'em a tea-meeting, and make all -things comfortable. But if you was prudent, sir, and would go by my -advice, one or the other of them two is what I would do." - -"Thank you, Tozer, all the same," said Vincent, who, notwithstanding his -preoccupation, saw the good butterman's anxiety, and appreciated it. "I -know very well that all that is pleasant to-night is owing to you. Don't -suppose I don't understand how you've fought for me; but now the -business is mine, and I can take no more advice. Think no more of it; -you have done all that you could do." - -"I have done my humble endeavour, sir, as is my dooty, to keep things -straight," said the deacon, doubtfully; "and if you'd tell me what was -in your mind, Mr. Vincent----?" - -But the young Nonconformist gathered up his papers, closed his desk, and -held out his hand to the kind-hearted butterman. "My sister has come -back almost from the grave to-night," said Vincent; "and we are all, for -anything I can see, at the turning-point of our lives. You have done all -you can do, and I thank you heartily; but now the business is in my -hands." - -This was all the satisfaction Tozer got from the minister. He went home -much discouraged, not knowing what to make of it, but did not confide -his fears even to his wife, hoping that reflection would change the -pastor's mind, and resolved to make another effort to-morrow. And so the -night fell over the troubled house. In the sick-room a joyful agitation -had taken the place of the dark and hopeless calm. Susan, roused to -life, lay leaning against her mother, looking at the child asleep on the -sofa by her, unconscious of the long and terrible interval between the -danger which that child had shared, and the delicious security to which -her mind had all at once awakened. To Susan's consciousness, it appeared -as if her mother had suddenly risen out of the mists, and delivered the -two helpless creatures who had suffered together. She could not press -close enough to this guardian of her life. She held her arms round her, -and laid her cheek against the widow's with the dependence of a child -upon her mother's bosom. Mrs. Vincent sat upon the bed supporting her, -herself supported in her weariness by love and joy, two divine -attendants who go but seldom together. The two talked in -whispers,--Susan because of her feebleness, the mother in the instinct -of caressing tenderness. The poor girl told her story in broken -syllables--broken by the widow's kisses and murmurs of sympathy, of -wonder and love. Healing breathed upon the stricken mind and feeble -frame as the two clung together in the silent night, always with an -unspoken reference to the beautiful forlorn creature on the sofa--that -visible symbol of all the terrors and troubles past. "I told her my -mother would come to save us," said poor Susan. When she dropt to sleep -at last, the mother leant her aching frame upon some pillows, afraid to -move, and slept too, supreme protector, in her tender weakness, of these -two young lives. As she woke from time to time to see her child sleeping -by her side, thoughts of her son's deliverance stole across Mrs. -Vincent's mind to sweeten her repose. The watch-light burned dimly in -the room, and threw a gigantic shadow of her little figure, half erect -on the side of the bed, still in her black gown and the close white cap, -which could not be less than dainty in its neatness, even in that vigil, -upon the further wall. The widow slept only in snatches, waking often -and keeping awake, as people do when they grow old; her thoughts, ever -alive and active, varying between her projects for the future, to save -Susan from all painful knowledge of her own story, and the thankful -recollection of Arthur's rescue from his troubles. From echoes of -Tozer's speech, and of the cheers of the flock, her imagination wandered -off into calculations of how she could find another place of habitation -as pleasant, perhaps, as Lonsdale, and even to the details of her -removal from thence, what portions of her furniture she would sell, and -which take with her. "For now that Arthur has got out of his troubles, -we must not stay to get him into fresh difficulties with his flock," she -said to herself, with a momentary ache in her thankful heart; and so -dropped asleep for another half-hour, to wake again presently, and enter -anew into the whole question. Such was the way in which Mrs. Vincent -passed that agitated but joyful night. - -In the adjoining room Arthur sat up late over his papers. He was not -writing, or doing any work; for hours together he sat leaning his head -on his hands, gazing intently at the lamp, which his mother had -adjusted, until his eyes were dazzled, and the gloom of the room around -became spotted with discs of shade. Was he to permit the natural -gratification into which Tozer's success had reluctantly moved him, to -alter his resolve? Was he to drop into his old harness and try again? or -was he to carry out his purpose in the face of all entreaties and -inducements? The natural inclination to adopt the easiest course--and -the equally natural, impetuous, youthful impulse to take the leap to -which he had made up his mind, and dash forth in the face of his -difficulties--gave him abundant occupation for his thoughts as they -contended against each other. He sat arguing the question within himself -long after his fire had sunk into ashes. When the penetrating cold of -the night drove him at last to bed, the question was still dubious. Even -in his sleep the uneasy perplexity pursued him;--a matter momentous -enough, though nobody but Tozer--who was as restless as the minister, -and disturbed his wife by groans and murmurs, of which, when indignantly -woke up to render an account, he could give no explanation--knew or -suspected anything. Whether to take up his anchors altogether and launch -out upon that sea of life, of which, much as he had discussed it in his -sermons, the young Nonconformist knew next to nothing? The widow would -not have mused so quietly with her wakeful eyes in the dim room next to -him, had she known what discussions were going on in Arthur's mind. As -for the congregation of Salem, they slept soundly, with an exhilarating -sensation of generosity and goodness,--all except the Pigeons, who were -plotting schism, and had already in their eye a vacant Temperance Hall, -where a new preaching station might be organised under the auspices of -somebody who would rival Vincent. The triumphant majority, however, -laughed at the poulterer, and anticipated, with a pleasurable -expectation, the meeting of next night, and the relief and delight of -the pastor, who would find he had no explanations to make, but only his -thanks to render to his generous flock. The good people concluded that -they would all stop to shake hands with him after the business was over. -"For it's as good as receiving of him again, and giving him the right -hand of fellowship," said Mrs. Brown at the Dairy, who was entirely won -over to the minister's side. Only Tozer, groaning in his midnight -visions, and disturbing the virtuous repose of his wedded partner, -suspected the new cloud that hung over Salem. For before morning the -minister's mind was finally made up. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - -THE next day dawned amid the agitations natural to such a crisis of -affairs. Almost before it was daylight, before Susan had woke, or the -young stranger stirred upon her sofa, Miss Smith, troubled and -exemplary, had returned to see after her charge. Miss Smith was in a -state of much anxiety and discomfort till she had explained to Mrs. -Vincent all the strange circumstances in which she found herself; and -the widow, who had ventured to rise from Susan's side, and had been -noiselessly busy putting the room in order, that her child might see -nothing that was not cheerful and orderly when she woke, was not without -curiosity to hear, and gladly took this opportunity, before even Arthur -was stirring, to understand, if she could, the story which was so -connected with that of her children. She ventured to go into the next -room with Miss Smith, where she could hear every movement in the -sick-chamber. The widow found it hard to understand all the tale. That -Mrs. Hilyard was Mildmay's wife, and that it was their child who had -sought protection of all the world from Susan Vincent, whom the crimes -of her father and mother had driven to the very verge of the grave, was -so hard and difficult to comprehend, that all the governess's anxious -details of how little Alice first came into her hands, of her mother's -motives for concealing her from Colonel Mildmay, even of the ill-fated -flight to Lonsdale, which, instead of keeping her safe, had carried the -child into her father's very presence--and all the subsequent events -which Miss Smith had already confided to the minister, fell but dully -upon the ears of Susan's mother. "Her daughter--and his daughter--and -she comes to take refuge with my child," said the widow, with a swelling -heart. Mrs. Vincent did not know what secret it was that lay heavy on -the soul of the desperate woman who had followed her last night from -Grove Street, but somehow, with a female instinct, felt, though she did -not understand, that Mrs. Hilyard or Mrs. Mildmay, whatever her name -might be, was as guilty in respect to Susan as was her guilty -husband--the man who had stolen like a serpent into the Lonsdale cottage -and won the poor girl's simple heart. Full of curiosity as she was, the -widow's thoughts wandered off from Miss Smith's narrative; her heart -swelled within her with an innocent triumph; the good had overcome the -evil. This child, over whom its father and mother had fought with so -deadly a struggle, had flown for protection to Susan, whom that father -and mother had done their utmost to ruin and destroy. They had not -succeeded, thank God! Through the desert and the lions the widow's Una -had come victorious, stretching her tender virgin shield over this poor -child of passion and sorrow. While Miss Smith maundered through the -entire history, starting from the time when Miss Russell married Colonel -Mildmay, the widow's mind was entirely occupied with this wonderful -victory of innocence over wickedness. She forgot the passionate despair -of the mother whose child did not recognise her. She began immediately -to contrive, with unguarded generosity, how Susan and she, when they -left Carlingford, should carry the stranger along with them, and nurse -her clouded mind into full development. Mrs. Vincent's trials had not -yet taught her any practical lessons of worldly wisdom. Her heart was -still as open as when, unthinking of evil, she admitted the false Mr. -Fordham into her cottage, and made a beginning of all the misery which -seemed now, to her sanguine heart, to be passing away. She went back to -Susan's room full of this plan--full of tender thoughts towards the girl -who had chosen Susan for her protector, and of pride and joy still more -tender in her own child, who had overcome evil. It was, perhaps, the -sweetest solace which could have been offered, after all her troubles, -to the minister's mother. It was at once a vindication of the hard -"dealings" of Providence, and of that strength of innocence and purity, -in which the little woman believed with all her heart. - -The minister himself was much less agreeably moved when he found the -governess in possession of his sitting-room. Anything more utterly -vexatious could hardly have occurred to Vincent than to find this -troubled good woman, herself much embarrassed and disturbed by her own -position, seated at his breakfast-table on this eventful morning. Miss -Smith was as primly uncomfortable as it was natural for an elderly -single woman, still conscious of the fact that she was unmarried, to be, -in an absolute tęte-ŕ-tęte with a young man. She, poor lady, was as near -blushing as her grey and composed non-complexion would permit. She moved -uneasily in her seat, and made tremulous explanations, as Vincent, who -was too young and inexperienced to be absolutely uncourteous, took his -place opposite to her. "I am sure I feel quite an intruder," said poor -Miss Smith; "but your mother, Mr. Vincent, and little Alice--and indeed -I did not know I was to be left here alone. It must seem so odd to you -to find a lady--dear, dear me! I feel I am quite in the way," said the -embarrassed governess; "but Mrs. Mildmay will be here presently. I know -she will be here directly. I am sure she would have come with me had she -known. But she sat up half the night hearing what I had to tell her, and -dropped asleep just in the morning. She is wonderfully changed, Mr. -Vincent--very, very much changed. She is so nervous--a thing I never -could have looked for. I suppose, after all, married ladies, however -much they may object to their husbands, can't help feeling a little when -anything happens," continued Miss Smith, primly; "and there is something -so dreadful in such an accident. How do you think it can have happened? -Could it be his groom, or who could it be? but I understand he is -getting better now?" - -"Yes, I believe so," said Vincent. - -"I am so glad," said Miss Smith, "not that if it had been the will of -Providence.--I would make the tea for you, Mr. Vincent, if you would not -think it odd, and I am sure Mrs. Mildmay will be here directly. They -were in a great commotion at Grange Lane. Just now, you know, there is -an excitement. Though she is not a young girl, to be sure it is always -natural. But for that I am sure they would all have come this morning; -but perhaps Mr. Fordham----" - -"Not any tea, thank you. If you have breakfasted, I will have the things -removed. I have only one sitting-room, you perceive," said the minister, -rather bitterly. He could not be positively uncivil--his heart was too -young and fresh to be rude to any woman; but he rang the bell with a -little unnecessary sharpness when Miss Smith protested that she had -breakfasted long before. Her words excited him with a touch beyond -telling. He could not, would not ask what was the cause of the commotion -in Grange Lane; but he walked to the window to collect himself while the -little maid cleared the table, and, throwing it open, looked out with -the heart beating loud in his breast. Were these the bells of St. -Roque's chiming into the ruddy sunny air with a confused jangle of joy? -It was a saint's day, no doubt--a festival which the perpetual curate -took delight in proclaiming his observance of; or--if it might happen to -be anything else, what was that to the minister of Salem, who had so -many other things on his mind? As he looked out a cab drove rapidly up -to the door--a cab from which he saw emerge Mrs. Hilyard and another -figure, which he recognised with a start of resentment. What possible -right had this man to intrude upon him in this moment of fate? The -minister left the window hastily, and stationed himself with a gloomy -countenance on the hearthrug. He might be impatient of the women; but -Fordham, inexcusable as his intrusion was, had to be met face to face. -With a flash of sudden recollection, he recalled all his previous -intercourse with the stranger whose name was so bitterly inter-woven -with the history of the last six months. What had he ever done to wake -so sharp a pang of dislike and injury in Vincent's mind? It was not for -Susan's sake that her brother's heart closed and his countenance clouded -against the man whose name had wrought her so much sorrow. Vincent had -arrived at such a climax of personal existence that Susan had but a dim -and secondary place in his thoughts. He was absorbed in his own troubles -and plans and miseries. On the eve of striking out for himself into that -bitter and unknown life in which his inexperienced imagination rejected -the thought of any solace yet remaining, what malicious influence -brought this man here? - -They came in together into the room, "Mrs. Mildmay and Mr. Fordham"--not -Mrs. Hilyard: that was over; and, preoccupied as the minister was, he -could not but perceive the sudden change which had come over the Back -Grove Street needlewoman. Perhaps her despair had lasted as long as was -possible for such an impatient spirit. She came in with the firm, steady -step which he had observed long ago, before she had begun to tremble at -his eye. Another new stage had commenced in her strange life. She went -up to him without any hesitation, clear and decisive as of old. - -"I am going away," she said, holding out her hand to him, "and so I -presume are you, Mr. Vincent. I have come to explain everything and see -your mother. Let me see your mother. Mr. Fordham has come with me to -explain to you. They think in Grange Lane that it is only a man who can -speak to a man," she went on, with the old movement of her thin lips; -"and that now I have come to life again, I must not manage my own -affairs. I am going back to society and the world, Mr. Vincent. I do not -know where you are going, but here is somebody come to answer for me. Do -they accept bail in a court of honour? or will you still hold a woman to -her parole? for it must be settled now." - -"Why must it be settled now?" said Vincent. He had dropped her hand and -turned away from her with a certain repugnance. She had lost her power -over him. At that moment the idea of being cruel, tyrannical to -somebody--using his power harshly, balancing the pain in his own heart -by inflicting pain on another--was not unagreeable to the minister's -excited mind. He could have steeled himself just then to bring down upon -her all the horrible penalties of the law. "Why must it be settled?" he -repeated; "why must you leave Carlingford? I will not permit it." He -spoke to her, but he looked at Fordham. The stranger was wrapped in a -large overcoat which concealed all his dress. What was his dress, or -his aspect, or the restrained brightness in his eyes to the minister of -Salem? But Vincent watched him narrowly with a jealous inspection. In -Fordham's whole appearance there was the air of a man to whom something -was about to happen, which aggravated to the fever-point the dislike and -opposition in Vincent's heart. - -"I will be answerable for Mrs. Mildmay," said Fordham, with an evident -response on his side to that opposition and dislike. Then he paused, -evidently perceiving the necessity of conciliation. "Mr. Vincent," he -continued, with some earnestness, "we all understand and regret deeply -the inconvenience-- I mean the suffering--that is to say, the injury and -misery which these late occurrences must have caused you. I know how -well--that is, how generously, how nobly--you have behaved----" - -Here Mr. Fordham came to a pause in some confusion. To express calm -acknowledgments to a man for his conduct in a matter which has been to -him one of unmitigated disaster and calamity, requires an amount of -composure which few people possess when at the height of personal -happiness. The minister drew back, and, with a slight bow, and a -restraint which was very natural and not unbecoming in his -circumstances, looked on at the confusion of the speaker without any -attempt to relieve it. He had offered seats to his visitors, but he -himself stood on the hearthrug, dark and silent, giving no assistance in -the explanation. He had not invited the explanation--it must be managed -now as the others might, without any help from him. - -"I have seen Colonel Mildmay," continued Mr. Fordham, after a confused -pause. "If it can be any atonement to you to know how much he regrets -all that has happened, so far as your family is concerned--how fully he -exonerates Miss Vincent, who was all along deceived, and who would not -have remained a moment with him had she not been forcibly detained. -Mildmay declares she met with nothing but respect at his hands," -continued the embarrassed advocate, lowering his voice; "he says----" - -"Enough has been said on the subject," said Vincent, restraining himself -with a violent effort. - -"Yes--I beg your pardon, it is quite true--enough has been said," cried -Fordham, with an appearance of relief. Here, at least, was one part of -his difficult mediation over. "Mildmay will not," he resumed, after a -pause, "tell me or any one else who it was that gave him his wound--that -is a secret, he says, between him and his God--and another. Whoever that -other may be," continued Fordham, with a quick look towards Mrs. -Mildmay, "he is conscious of having wronged--him--and will take no steps -against--him. This culprit, it appears, must be permitted to escape--you -think so?--worse evils might be involved if we were to -demand--his--punishment. Mr. Vincent, I beg you to take this into -consideration. It could be no advantage to you; the innocent shall not -suffer--but--the criminal--must be permitted to escape." - -"I do not see the necessity," said Vincent between his teeth. - -"No, no," said Mrs. Mildmay, suddenly. "Escape! who believes in escape? -Mr. Vincent knows better. Hush, you are a happy man just now--you are -not qualified to judge; but we know better. Escape!--he means from -prisons, and such like," she continued, turning to Vincent with a -half-disdainful wave of her hand towards her companion. "But you know, -and so do I, that there is no escape--not in this world. I know nothing -about the next," said the strange woman, curbing once more the flush of -excitement which had overpowered her as she spoke--"nothing; neither do -you, though you are a priest. But there is enough of retribution here. -The criminal--Mr. Vincent--you know--will not escape." - -She spoke these last words panting, with pauses between, for breath. She -was afraid of him again; his blankness, his passive opposition, drove -her out of her composure. She put her hands together under her shawl -with a certain dumb entreaty, and fixed upon him her eager eyes. They -were a strange group altogether. Miss Smith, who had still lingered at -the door, notwithstanding Mrs. Mildmay's imperative gesture of -dismissal--out of hearing, but not out of sight--suffered some little -sound to escape her at this critical moment; and when her patroness -turned round upon her with those dreadful eyes, fled with precipitation, -taking refuge in Mrs. Vincent's room. The table, still covered with its -white cloth, stood between that dismayed spectator before she -disappeared finally, and the little company who were engaged in this -silent conflict. Beside it sat Mrs. Mildmay, with a renewed panic of -fear rising in her face. Fordham, considerably disturbed, and not -knowing what to say, stood near her buttoning and unbuttoning his -overcoat with impatient fingers, anxious to help her, but still more -anxious to be gone. The minister stood facing them all, with compressed -lips, and eyes which looked at nobody. He was wrapt in a silent dumb -resistance to all entreaties and arguments, watching Fordham's gestures, -Fordham's looks, with a jealous but secret suspicion. His heart was -cruel in its bitterness. He for whom Providence had no joys in store, to -whom the light was fading which made life sweet, was for this moment -superior to the happy man who stood embarrassed and impatient before -him; and generous as his real nature was, it was not in him, in this -moment of darkness, to let the opportunity go. - -"The innocent have suffered already," said Vincent, "all but madness, -all but death. Why should the criminal escape?--go back into society, -the society of good people, perhaps strike some one else more -effectually? Why should I betray justice, and let the criminal escape? -My sister's honour and safety are mine, and shall be guarded, whoever -suffers. I will not permit her to go." - -"But I offer to be answerable for her appearance," said Fordham, -hastily. "I undertake to produce her if need be. You know me. I am a--a -relation of the family. I am a man sufficiently known to satisfy any -magistrate. You have no legal right to detain her. What would you have -more? Is not my guarantee enough for you?" - -"No," said Vincent, slowly. The two men stood defiant opposite to each -other, contending for this woman, whom neither of them looked at, for -whom neither of them cared. She, in the mean time, sat still in an agony -of suspense and concealed anguish, with her eyes fixed on Vincent's -face. She knew very well it was not of her that either of the two was -thinking; yet it was her fate, perhaps her very life, which hung -trembling in the balance. A smothered sighing sob came from her breast. -She was silenced for the first time in her life. She had escaped her -crime; but all its material consequences, shame and punishment, still -hung over her head. After God himself had freed her from the guilt of -blood--after the injured man himself had forgiven her--when all was -clear for her escape into another life--was this an indignant angel, -with flaming sword and averted face, that barred the way of the -fugitive? Beyond him, virtue and goodness, and all the fruits of -repentance, shone before the eyes which had up to this time seen but -little attraction in them--all so sweet, so easy, so certain, if but she -were free. Her worn heart sighed to get forth into that way of peace. -She could have fallen on her knees before the stern judge who kept her -back, and held over her head the cloud of her own ill-doings, but dared -not, in her paroxysm of fear and half-despair. A groaning, sighing sob, -interrupted and broken, came from her exhausted breast. Just as she had -recovered herself--as she had escaped--as remorse and misery had driven -her to yearn after a better life, to be cast down again into this abyss -of guilt and punishment! She trembled violently as she clasped her poor -hands under her shawl. Composure and self-restraint were impossible in -this terrible suspense. - -Her cry went to Fordham's heart; and, besides, he was in desperate -haste, and could afford to sink his pride, and make an appeal for once. -He made a step forward, and put out his hand with an entreating gesture. -"Do you hear her?" he cried, suddenly. "You have had much to bear -yourself; have pity on her. Let her off--leave her to God. She has been -ill, and will die if you have no mercy. You who are a minister----" - -In his energy his overcoat fell back for a moment; underneath he was in -full dress, which showed strangely in that grey spring morning. Vincent -turned round upon him with a smile. The young man's face was utterly -pale, white to the lips. The bells were jangling joy in his ears. He was -not master of himself. "We detain you, Mr. Fordham; you have other -affairs in hand," he said. "I am a minister only--a Dissenting -minister--unworthy to have such an intercessor pleading with me; but -you, at least," cried poor Vincent, with an attempt at sarcasm, "do not -want my pity; there is nothing between us that requires explanation. I -will arrange with Mrs. Mildmay alone." He turned away and went to the -window when he had spoken. There he stood, with his back to them, -listening to the bells of St. Roque's, as they came and went in -irregular breaks upon the wind. His heart was bursting with wild throbs -of bitterness and despair; it was all he could do to keep the tumult -down, and contain himself in that flush of passion. He turned away from -them, and stood gazing out at that tedious window into the blank world. -What did it matter? Let her escape if she would--let things go as they -might; nothing was of any further importance--certainly on -earth--perhaps even in heaven. - -"I will go away--I can do you no good--I should only lose my temper; and -time presses," said Mr. Fordham, with a flush of resentment on his face, -as he turned to the anxious woman behind him. What could he do? He could -not quarrel with this angry man in his own house on such a day. He could -not keep happier matters waiting. He would not risk the losing of his -temper and his time at this moment of all others. He went away with a -sensation of defeat, which for half an hour materially mitigated his -happiness. But he was happy, and the happy are indulgent judges both of -their own conduct and of others. As for the minister, he was roused -again when he saw his rival jump into the cab at the door, and drive off -alone down the street, which was lively with the early stir of day. The -sun had just broken through the morning clouds, and it was into a ruddy -perspective of light that the stranger disappeared as he went off -towards Grange Lane. Strange contrast of fate! While Fordham hastened -down into the sunshine to all the joy that awaited him there, Tozer, a -homely, matter-of-fact figure in the ruddy light, was crossing the -street towards the minister's door. Vincent went away from the window -again, with pangs of an impatience and intolerance of his own lot which -no strength of mind could subdue. All the gleams of impossible joy which -had lighted his path in Carlingford had now gone out, and left him in -darkness; and here came back, in undisturbed possession, all the meaner -circumstances of his individual destiny. Salem alone remained to him out -of the wreck of his dreams; except when he turned back and discovered -her--the one tragic thread in the petty history--this woman whose future -life for good or for evil he held in his avenging hands. - -Mrs. Mildmay was still seated by the table. She had regained command of -herself. She looked up to him with gleaming eyes when he approached her. -"Mr. Vincent, I keep my parole-- I am waiting your pleasure," she said, -never removing her eyes from his face. It was at this moment that Mrs. -Vincent, who had from the window of Susan's chamber seen the cab arrive -and go away with some curiosity, came into the room. The widow wanted to -know who her son's visitors were, and what had brought them. She came in -with a little eagerness, but was brought to a sudden standstill by the -appearance of Mrs. Mildmay. Why was this woman here? what had she to do -with the minister? Mrs. Vincent put on her little air of simple dignity. -She said, "I beg your pardon; I did not know my son was engaged," with a -curtsy of disapproving politeness to the unwelcome visitor. With a -troubled look at Arthur, who looked excited and gloomy enough to -justify any uncomfortable imaginations about him, his mother turned -away somewhat reluctantly. She did not feel that it was quite right to -leave him exposed to the wiles of this "designing woman;" but the -widow's own dignity was partly at stake. All along she had disapproved -of this strange friendship, and she could not countenance it now. - -"Your mother is going away," said Mrs. Mildmay, with a restrained outcry -of despair: "is no one to be permitted to mediate between us? You are a -man and cruel; you are in trouble, and you think you will avenge -yourself. No, no--I don't mean what I say. Your son is a--a true knight, -Mrs. Vincent; I told you so before. He will never be hard upon a woman: -if I had not known that, why should I have trusted him? I came back, as -he knows, of my own will. Don't go away; I am willing you should -know--the whole," said the excited woman, with a sudden pause, turning -upon Vincent, her face blanching into deadly whiteness--"the whole--I -consent; let her be the judge. Women are more cruel than men; but I -saved her daughter--I am willing that she should hear it all." - -She sat down again on the seat from which she had risen. A certain -comfort and relief stole over her face. She was appealing to the general -heart of humanity against this one man who knew her secret. It might be -hard to hear the story of her own sin--but it was harder to be under the -stifling sway of one who knew it, and who had it in his power to -denounce her. She ceased to tremble as she looked at the widow's -troubled face. It was a new tribunal before which she stood; perhaps -here her provocations might be acknowledged--her soul acquitted of the -burden from which it could never escape. As the slow moments passed on, -and the minister did not speak, she grew impatient of the silence. "Tell -her," she said, faintly--it was a new hope which thus awoke in her -heart. - -But while Mrs. Mildmay sat waiting, and while the widow drew near, not -without some judicial state in the poise of her little figure, to hear -the explanation which she felt she was entitled to, Tozer's honest -troubled face looked in at the door. It put a climax upon the confusion -of the morning. The good butterman looked on in some surprise at this -strange assemblage, recognising dimly the haze of an excitement of which -he knew nothing. He was acquainted, to some extent, with the needlewoman -of Back Grove Street. He had gone to call on her once at the -solicitation of the anxious Brown, who had charge of her district but -did not feel himself competent to deal with the spiritual necessities of -such a penitent; and Tozer remembered well that her state of mind had -not been satisfactory--"not what was to be looked for in a person as had -the means of grace close at hand, and attended regular at Salem." He -thought she must have come at this unlucky moment to get assistance of -some kind from the minister--"as if he had not troubles enough of his -own," Tozer said to himself; but the deacon was not disposed to let his -pastor be victimised in any such fashion. This, at least, was a matter -in which he felt fully entitled to interfere. - -"Good mornin', ma'am," said the worthy butterman; "good mornin', Mr. -Vincent--it's cold, but it's seasonable for the time of year. What I -wanted was a word or two with the pastor, ma'am, if he's disengaged. It -ain't what I approve," continued Tozer, fixing his eyes with some -sternness upon the visitor, "to take up a minister's time in the morning -when he has the work of a flock on his hands. My business, being such as -can't wait, is different; but them as are in want of assistance, one way -or another, which is a thing as belongs to the deacons, have no excuse, -not as I can see, for disturbing the pastor. It ain't a thing as I would -put up with," continued Tozer, with increasing severity; the charities -of the flock ain't in Mr. Vincent's hands; it's a swindling of his time -to come in upon him of a morning if there ain't a good reason; and, as -far as I am concerned, it would be enough to shut my heart up again' -giving help--that's how it would work on me." - -Mrs. Mildmay was entirely inattentive to the first few words of this -address, but the pointed application given by the speaker's eyes called -her attention presently. She gazed at him, as he proceeded, with a -gradual lightening of her worn and anxious face. While Mrs. Vincent did -all she could, with anxious looks and little deprecatory gestures, to -stop the butterman, the countenance of her visitor cleared by one of -those strange sudden changes which the minister had noted so often. Her -lips relaxed, her eyes gleamed with a sudden flash of amusement. Then -she glanced around, seeing with quick observation not only the absurdity -of Tozer's mistake, but the infallible effect it had in changing the -aspect of affairs. The minister had turned away, not without a grim, -impatient smile at the corner of his mouth. The minister's mother, -shocked in all her gentle politeness, was eagerly watching her -opportunity to break in and set the perplexed deacon right. The culprit, -who had been on her trial a moment before, drew a long breath of utter -relief. Now she had escaped--the crisis was over. Her quick spirit rose -with a sense of triumph--a sensation of amusement. She entered eagerly -into it, leaning forward with eyes that shone and gleamed upon her -accuser, and a mock solemnity of attention which only her desperate -strain of mind and faculties could have enabled her to assume so -quickly. When the butterman came to a pause, Mrs. Vincent rushed in -breathlessly to the rescue. - -"Mr. Tozer--Mr. Tozer! this lady is--a--a friend of ours," cried the -minister's mother, with looks that were much more eloquent of her -distress and horror than any words. She had no time to say more, when -the aggrieved individual herself broke in-- - -"Mr. Tozer knows I have been one of the flock since ever Mr. Vincent -came," said the strange woman. "I have gone to all the meetings, and -listened faithfully to the pastor every time he has preached; and would -you judge me unworthy of relief because I once came to see him in a -morning? That is hard laws; but the minister will speak for me. The -minister knows me," she went on, turning to Vincent, "and he and his -mother have been very charitable to a poor woman, Mr. Tozer. You will -not exclude me from the Salem charities for this one offence? Remember -that I am a member of the flock." - -"Not a church-member as I know," said the sturdy deacon--"not meaning no -offence, if I've made a mistake--one sitting, as far as I remember; but -a--lady--as is a friend of Mrs. Vincent's----" - -Here Tozer paused, abashed but suspicious, not disposed to make any -further apology. That moment was enough to drive this lighter interlude -from the vigilant soul which, in all its moods, watched what was going -on with a quick apprehension of the opportunities of the moment. All her -perceptions, quickened as they were by anxiety and fear, were bent on -discovering an outlet for her escape, and she saw her chance now. She -got up wearily, leaning on the table, as indeed she needed to lean, and -looked into Mrs. Vincent's face: "May I see my child?" she said, in a -voice that went to the heart of the widow. The minister's mother could -not resist this appeal. She saw the trembling in her limbs, the anxiety -in her eye. "Arthur, I will see to Mrs. Mildmay. Mr. Tozer has something -to say to you, and we must not occupy your time," said the tender little -woman, in whose gentle presence there was protection and shelter even -for the passionate spirit beside her. Thus the two went away together. -If there had ever been any revengeful intention in Vincent's mind, it -had disappeared by this time. He too breathed deep with relief. The -criminal had escaped, at least out of his hands. He was no longer -compelled to take upon himself the office of an avenger. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - -"I HOPE, sir, as I haven't said anything to give offence?--it was far -from my meaning," said Tozer; "not as the--person--is a church-member, -being only a seat-holder for one sittin', as is down in the books. I -wouldn't have come over, not so early, Mr. Vincent, if it wasn't as I -was wishful to try if you'd listen to reason about the meetin' as is -appointed to be to-night. It ain't no interest of mine, not so far as -money goes, nor nothing of that kind. It's you as I'm a-thinking of. I -don't mind standing the expense out of my own pocket, if so be as you'd -give in to make it a tea-meetin'. I don't know as you'd need to do -nothing but take the chair and make yourself agreeable. Me and Brown and -the women would manage the rest. It would be a pleasant surprise, that's -what it would be," said the good butterman; "and Phoebe and some more -would go down directly to make ready: and I don't doubt as there's cakes -and buns enough in Carlingford, Mr. Vincent, sir, if you'd but bend your -mind to it and consent." - -"I am going out," said Vincent; "I have--something to do; don't detain -me, Tozer. I must have this morning to myself." - -"I'll walk with you, sir, if I ain't in the way," said the deacon, -accompanying the young man's restless steps down-stairs. "They tell me -Miss is a deal better, and all things is going on well. I wouldn't be -meddlesome, Mr. Vincent, not of my own will; but when matters is -settling, sir, if you'd but hear reason! There can't nothing but harm -come of more explanations. I never had no confidence in explanations, -for my part; but pleasant looks and the urns a-smoking, and a bit of -green on the wall, as Phoebe and the rest could put up in no time! and -just a speech as was agreeable to wind up with--a bit of an anecdote, or -poetry about friends as is better friends after they've spoke their -minds and had it out--that's the thing as would settle Salem, Mr. -Vincent. I don't speak, not to bother you, sir, but for your good. There -ain't no difficulty in it; it's easier a deal than being serious and -opening up all things over again; and as for them as would like to -dictate----" - -"I am not thinking of Salem," said the minister; "I have many other -things to distract me; for heaven's sake, if you have any pity, leave me -alone to-day." - -"But you'll give in to make it a tea-meetin'?" said the anxious -butterman, pausing at his own door. - -Tozer did not make out the minister's reply. It is difficult to -distinguish between a nod and a shake of the head, under some -circumstances--and Vincent did not pause to give an articulate answer, -but left his champion to his own devices. It seemed to Vincent to be a -long time since Fordham left his house--and he was possessed with a -fever of impatience to see for himself what was being transacted down -yonder in the sunshine, where the spire of St. Roque's appeared in the -distance through the ruddy morning haze. The bells had ceased, and all -was quiet enough in Grange Lane. Quite quiet--a few ordinary passengers -in the tranquil road, nursemaids and children--and the calm green doors -closing in the concealed houses, as if no passion or agitation could -penetrate them. The door of Lady Western's garden was ajar. The minister -crossed over and looked in with a wistful, despairing hope of seeing -something that would contradict his conclusion. The house was basking in -the spring sunshine--the door open, some of the windows open, eager -servants hovering about, an air of expectation over all. With eyes full -of memories, the minister looked in at the half-open door, which one -time and another had been to him the gate of paradise. Within, where the -red geraniums and verbenas had once brightened all the borders, were -pale crocuses and flowers of early spring--the limes were beginning to -bud, the daisies to grow among the grass. The winter was over in that -sheltered and sunny place; Nature herself stood sweet within the -protecting walls, and gathered all the tenderest sweets of spring to -greet the bride in the new beginning of her life. It was but a glance, -but the spectator, in the bitterness of his heart, did not lose a single -tint or line; and just then the joy-bells burst out once more from St. -Roque's. Poor Vincent drew back from the door as the sudden sound stung -him to the heart. Nothing had any pity for him--all the world, and -every voice and breath therein, sided with the others in their joy. He -went on blindly, without thinking where he was going, with a kind of -dull, stubborn determination in his heart, not to turn back in his -wretchedness even from the sight of the happy procession which he knew -must be advancing to meet him. A pang more or less, what did it matter? -And for the last time he would look on Her who was nothing in the world -to him now--who never could have been anything--yet who had somehow shed -such streams of light upon the poor minister's humble path, as no -reality in all his life had ever shed before. He paused on the edge of -the road as he saw the carriage coming. It was one of those moments when -a man's entire life becomes apparent to him in long perspective of past -and future, he himself and all the world standing still between. The -bells rang on his heart, with echoes from the wheels and the horses' -feet coming up in superb pride and triumph. Heaven and earth were glad -for her in her joy. He, in his great trouble, stood dark in the sunshine -and looked on. - -It was only a moment, and no more. He would have seen nothing but the -white mist of the veil which surrounded her, had not she in her -loveliness and kindness perceived him, and bent forward in the carriage -with a little motion of her hand calling the attention of her unseen -bridegroom to that figure on the way. At sight of that movement, the -unhappy young man started with an intolerable pang, and went on heedless -where he was going. He could not control the momentary passion. She had -never harmed him--never meant to dazzle him with her beauty, or trifle -with his love, or break his heart. It was kind as the sunshine, this -sweet bridal face leaning out with that momentary glance of recognition. -She would have given him her kind hand, her sweet smile as of old, had -they met more closely--no remorseful consciousness was in her eyes; but -neither the bells, nor the flowers, nor the sunshine, went with such a -pang to poor Vincent's heart as did that look of kindness. It was all -unreal then--no foundation at all in it? not enough to call a passing -colour to her cheek, or to dim her sweet eyes on her bridal day? He went -down the long road in the insensibility of passion--seeing nothing, -caring for nothing--stung to the heart. No look of triumph, no female -dart of conscious cruelty, could have given the poor minister so bitter -a wound. All her treasured looks and smiles--the touch of her hand--her -words, of which he had scarcely forgotten one--did they mean nothing -after all? nothing but kindness? He had laid his heart at her feet; if -she had trodden on it he could have forgiven her; but she only went on -smiling, and never saw the treasure in her way. And this was the end. -The unfortunate young man could not give way to any outbreak of the -passion that consumed him; he could but go on hotly--on past St. -Roque's, where flowers still lay in the porch, and the open doors -invited strangers, to the silent country, where the fields lay callow -under the touch of spring. Spring! everlasting mockery of human trouble! -Here were the hedgerows stirring, the secret grain beginning to throb -conscious in the old furrows; but life itself standing still--coming to -a sudden end in this heart which filled the young man's entire frame -with pulsations of anguish. All his existence had flowed towards this -day, and took its termination here. His love--heaven help him! he had -but one heart, and had thrown it away; his work--that too was to come to -nothing, and be ended; all his traditions, all his hopes, were they to -be buried in one grave? and what was to become after of the posthumous -and nameless life? - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - -WHEN the minister fully came to himself, it was after a long rapid walk -of many miles through the silent fields and hazy country. There the -clouds cleared off from him in the quietness. When he began to see -clearly he turned back towards Carlingford. Nothing now stood between -him and the crisis which henceforward must determine his personal -affairs. He turned in the long country road, which he had been pursuing -eagerly without knowing what he was doing, and gazed back towards the -distant roofs. His heart ached and throbbed with the pangs that were -past. He had a consciousness that it stirred within his breast, still -smarting and thrilling with that violent access of agony--but the climax -was over. The strong pulsations fell into dull beats of indefinite pain. -Now for the other world--the neutral-coloured life. Vincent did not very -well know which road he had taken, for he had not been thinking of where -he was going; but it roused him a little to perceive that his homeward -way brought him through Grove Street, and past Siloam Cottage, where Mr. -Tufton lived. - -Mrs. Tufton was at the window, behind the great geranium, when the -minister came in sight. When she saw him she tapped upon the pane and -beckoned him to go in. He obeyed the summons, almost without -impatience, in the languor of his mind. He went in to find them all by -the fire, just as they had been when he came first to Carlingford. The -old minister, in his arm-chair, holding out his flabby white hand to his -dear young brother; the invalid daughter still knitting, with cold blue -eyes, always vigilant and alert, investigating everything. It was a mild -day, and Mrs. Tufton herself had shifted her seat to the window, where -she had been reading aloud as usual the 'Carlingford Gazette.' The -motionless warm air of the little parlour, the prints of the brethren on -the walls, the attitudes of the living inhabitants, were all unchanged -from the time when the young minister of Salem paid his first visit, and -chafed at Mr. Tufton's advice, and heard with a secret shiver the -prophecy of Adelaide, that "they would kill him in six months." He took -the same chair, again making a little commotion among the furniture, -which the size of the room made it difficult to displace. It was with a -bewildering sensation that he sat down in that unchangeable house. Had -time really gone on through all these passions and pains, of which he -was conscious in his heart? or had it stood still, and were they only -dreams? Adelaide Tufton, immovable in her padded chair, with pale blue -eyes that searched through everything, had surely never once altered her -position, but had knitted away the days with a mystic thread like one of -the Fates. Even the geranium did not seem to have gained or shed a -single leaf. - -"I have just been reading in the 'Gazette' the report of last night's -meeting," said good Mrs. Tufton. "Oh, Mr. Vincent, I was so glad--your -dear mother herself, if she had been there, could not have been happier -than I was. I hope she has seen the 'Gazette' this morning. You young -men always like the 'Times;' but they never put in anything that is -interesting to me in the 'Times.' Perhaps, if she has not seen it, you -will put the paper in your pocket. Indeed, it made me as happy as if you -had been my own son. I always say that is very much how Mr. Tufton and I -feel for you." - -"Yes, it went off very well," said the old minister. "My dear young -brother, it all depends on whether you have friends that know how to -deal with a flock; nothing can teach you that but experience. I am sorry -I dare not go out again to-night--it cost me my night's rest last night, -as Mrs. Tufton will tell you; but that is nothing in consideration of -duty. Never think of ease to yourself, my dear young friend, when you -can serve a brother; it has always been my rule through life----" - -"Mr. Vincent understands all that," said Adelaide; "that will do, -papa--we know. Tell me about Lady Western's marriage, Mr. Vincent. I -daresay you were invited, as she was such a friend of yours. It must -have made an awkwardness between you when she turned out to be Colonel -Mildmay's sister; but, to be sure, those things don't matter among -people in high life. It was delightful that she should marry her old -love after all, don't you think? Poor Sir Joseph would have left a -different will if he had known. Parted for ten years and coming -together again! it is like a story in a book----" - -"I do not know the circumstances," said poor Vincent. He turned to Mr. -Tufton with a vain hope of escaping. "I shall have to bid you good-bye -shortly," said the minister; "though it was very good of the Salem -people not to dismiss me, I prefer----" - -"You mean to go away?" said Adelaide; "that will be a wonderful piece of -news in the connection; but I don't think you will go away: there will -be a deputation, and they will give you a piece of plate, and you will -remain--you will not be able to resist. Papa never was a preacher to -speak of," continued the dauntless invalid, "but they gave him a purse -and a testimonial when he retired; and you are soft-hearted, and they -will get the better of you----" - -"Adelaide!" said Mrs. Tufton, "Mr. Vincent will think you out of your -senses: indeed, Mr. Vincent, she does not mind what she says; and she -has had so much ill-health, poor child, that both her papa and I have -given in to her too much; but as for my husband's preaching, it is well -known he could have had many other charges if his duty had not called -him to stay at Salem; invitations used to come----" - -"Oh, stuff!" said the irreverent Adelaide--"as if Mr. Vincent did not -know. But I will tell you about Lady Western--that is the romance of the -day. Mr. Fordham was very poor, you know, when they first saw each -other--only a poor barrister--and the friends interfered. Friends always -interfere," said the sick woman, fixing her pale eyes on Vincent's face -as she went on with her knitting; "and they married her to old Sir -Joseph Western; and so, after a while, she became the young dowager. She -must have been very pretty then--she is beautiful now; but I would not -have married a widow, had I been Mr. Fordham, after I came into my -fortune. His elder brother died, you know. I would not have married her, -however lovely she had been. Mr. Vincent, would you?" - -"Adelaide!" cried Mrs. Tufton, again in dismay. The poor minister thrust -back his chair from the table, and came roughly against the stand of the -great geranium, which had to be adjusted, and covered his retreat. He -glanced at his conscious tormentor with the contemptuous rage and -aggravation which men sometimes feel towards a weak creature who insults -them with impunity. But she did not show any pleasurable consciousness -of her triumph; she kept knitting on, looking at him with her pale blue -eyes. There was something in that loveless eagerness of curiosity which -appalled Vincent. He got up hastily to his feet, and said he had -something to do and must go away. - -"Good-bye, my dear brother," said Mr. Tufton slowly, shaking the young -minister's hand; "you will be judicious to-night? The flock have stood -by you, and been indulgent to your inexperience. They see you never -meant to hurt any of their feelings. It is what I always trained my dear -people to be--considerate to the young preachers. Take my advice, my -beloved young brother, and dear Tozer's advice. We do all we can for -you here, and dear Tozer is a tower of strength. And you have our -prayers; we are but a little assembly--I and my dear partner in life and -our afflicted child--but two or three, you know--and we never forget you -at the throne of grace." - -With this parting blessing Vincent hastened away. Poor little Mrs. -Tufton had added some little effusion of motherly kindness which he did -not listen to. He came away with a strange impression on his mind of -that knitting woman, pale and curious, in her padded chair. Adelaide -Tufton was not old--not a great many years older than himself. To him, -with the life beating so strong in his veins, the sight of that life in -death was strange, almost awful. The despair, the anguish, the vivid -uncertainty and reality of his own existence, appeared to him in -wonderful relief against that motionless background. If he came back -here ten years hence, he might still find as now the old man by the -fire, the pale woman knitting in her chair, as they had been for these -six months which had brought to the young minister a greater crowd of -events than all his previous years. When he thought of that helpless -woman, with her lively thoughts and curious eyes, always busy and -speculating about the life from which she was utterly shut out, a -strange sensation of thankfulness stole over the young man; though he -was miserable he was alive. Between him and the lovely figure on which -his heart had dwelt too long, rose up now this other figure which was -not lovely. He grew stronger as he went home along the streets in the -changed light of the afternoon. Siloam Cottage interposed between him -and that ineffable moment at the bridal doors; presently Salem too would -interpose, and all the difficulties and troubles of his career. He had -taken up life again, after that pause when the sun and the moon stood -still and the battle raged. Now it was all over, and the world's course -had begun anew. - -Mrs. Vincent was looking out for him when he reached his own door. He -could see her disappear from the window above, where she had been -standing watching. She came to meet him as he went up to the -sitting-room. There was nobody now in that room, where the widow had -been making everything smile for her son. The table was spread; the fire -bright; the lamp ready to be lighted on the table. Mrs. Vincent had been -alarmed by Arthur's long absence, but she did not say so. She only made -haste to tell him that Susan was so much better, and that the doctor was -in such high spirits about her. "After we come back from the meeting you -are to go in and sit with your sister for an hour, my dear boy," said -his mother. "Till that was over, we knew your mind would be occupied, -and Susan would like to see you. Oh, Arthur! it will make you happy only -to look at her. She remembers everything now; she has asked me even all -about the flock, and cried with joy to hear how things had gone off last -night--not for joy only," said the truthful widow, "with indignation, -too, that you ever should have been doubted--for Susan thinks there is -nobody like her brother; but, my dear, we ought to be very thankful -that things have happened so well. Everybody must learn to put up with a -little injustice in this world, particularly the pastor of a flock. If -you will go and get ready for dinner, Arthur," said Mrs. Vincent, "I -will light the lamp. I have taken it into my own hands, dear; it is -better to put it right at first than to be always arranging it after it -has been put wrong. Dinner is quite ready, and make haste, my dear boy. -I have got a little fish for you, and you know it will spoil if you keep -it waiting; and I have so much to tell you before we go out to the -meeting to-night." - -Vincent made no answer to the wistful inquiring look which his mother -turned to his face as she mentioned this meeting. He went away with an -impatient exclamation about that lamp, which seemed to him to occupy -half her thoughts. Mrs. Vincent was full of many cares and much news -which she had to give her son; she was also deeply anxious and curious -to know what he was going to do that night; but still she spared a -little time for the lamp, to set the screw right, and light to a -delicate evenness the well-trimmed wick. When she had placed it on the -table, it gave her a certain satisfaction to see how clearly it burned, -and how bright it made the table. "If I only knew what Arthur was going -to do," she said to herself, with a little sigh, as she rang the bell -for the dinner, and warned the little maid to be very careful with the -fish; "for if it is not put very nicely on the table Mr. Vincent will -not have any of it," said the minister's mother, with that feminine -mingling of small cares and great which was so incomprehensible to her -son. When he came back and seated himself listlessly at the table, he -never thought of observing the light, or taking note of the brightness -of the room. To think of this business of dinner at all, interjected -into such a day, was almost too much for Arthur; and he was half -disgusted with himself when he found that, after all, he could eat, and -that not only for his mother's sake. Mrs. Vincent talked only of Susan -while the little maid was going and coming into the room; but when they -were alone she drew her chair a little nearer and entered upon other -things. - -"Arthur, I had a great deal of conversation with Mrs. Mildmay; she told -me--everything," said the widow, growing pale. "Oh, my dear! when God -leaves us alone to our own devices, what dreadful things a sinful -creature may do! I said you would do nothing to harm her now when Susan -was safe. Hush, dear! we must never breathe a word of it to Susan, or -any one. Susan is changed, Arthur; sometimes I am glad of it, sometimes -I could cry. She is not an innocent girl now. She is a woman--oh, -Arthur! a great deal stronger than her mother; she would clear herself -somehow if she knew; she would not bear that suspicion. She is more like -your dear papa," said the mother, wiping her eyes, "than I ever thought -to see one of my children. I can see his high-minded ways in her, -Arthur--and steadier than you and me; for you have my quick temper, -dear. Wait just another moment, Arthur. This poor child dotes upon -Susan; and her mother asked me," said poor Mrs. Vincent, pausing, and -looking her son in the face, "if--I would keep her with me." - -"Keep her with you! Let us be rid of them," cried the minister; "they -have brought us nothing but misery ever since we heard their names." - -"Yes, Arthur dear; but the poor child never did any one any harm. They -have made her a ward in Chancery now. It should have been done long ago -but for the wickedness and the disputes; and, my dear boy," said Mrs. -Vincent, anxiously, "I will have to leave Lonsdale, you know, my poor -child could not go back there; and we will not stay with you in -Carlingford to get you into trouble with your flock," continued the -widow, gazing wistfully in his face to see if she could gather anything -of his purpose from his looks; "and with my little income, you know, it -would be hard work without coming on you; but all the difficulty is -cleared away if we take this child. I was thinking I might take Susan -abroad," said the widow, with a little sigh; "it is the best thing, I -have always heard, after such trouble; and it would be an occupation for -her when she got better. My dear boy, don't be hasty; your dear father -always took a little time to think upon a thing before he would speak; -but you have always had my temper, Arthur. I won't say any more; we will -speak of it, dear, in your sister's room, when we come home from the -meeting to-night." - -"I think you had better not go to the meeting to-night; there will be -nothing said to please you, mother," said the minister, rising from the -table, and taking his favourite position on the hearthrug. His mother -turned round frightened, but afraid to show her fright, determined still -to look as if she believed everything was going well. - -"No fine speeches, Arthur? My dear boy, I always like to hear you speak. -I know you will say what you ought," said the widow, smiling, with a -patient determination in her face. Then there was a pause. "Perhaps you -will give me a little sketch of what you are going to say," she went on, -with a tender artifice, concealing her anxiety. "Your dear papa often -did, Arthur, when anything was going on among the flock." - -But Arthur made no reply. His clouded face filled his mother with a host -of indefinite fears. But she saw, as she had seen so often, that -womanish entreaties were not practicable, and that he must be left to -himself. "He will tell me as we go to Salem," she said in her heart, to -quiet its anxious throbbing. "Perhaps you would like to have the room to -yourself a little, dear," she said aloud. "I will go to Susan till it is -time to leave; and I know my Arthur will ask the counsel of God," she -added softly, just touching his hand with a tender momentary clasp. It -was all the minister could do to resist the look of anxious inquiry with -which this little caress was accompanied; and then she left him to -prepare for his meeting. Whether he asked advice or not of his Father in -heaven, the widow asked it for him with tears in her anxious eyes. She -had done all that she could do. When the minister was left to himself, -he opened his desk and took out the manuscript with which he had been -busy last night. It was the speech he had intended to deliver, and he -had been pleased with it. He sat down now and read it over to himself, -by the white-covered table, on which his mother's lamp burned bright. -Sheet by sheet, as he read it over, the impatient young man tossed into -the fire, with hasty exclamations of disgust. He was excited; his mind -was in fiery action; his heart moved to the depths. No turgid Homerton -eloquence would do now. What he said must be not from the lips, but from -the heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - -MRS. VINCENT was ready in very good time for the meeting; she brought -her son a cup of coffee with her own hand when she was dressed in her -bonnet and shawl. She had put on her best bonnet--her newest black silk -dress. Perhaps she knew that device of Tozer's, of which the minister -yet was not aware; but Arthur for once was too peremptory and decided -for his mother. She who knew how to yield when resistance was -impossible, had to give in to him at last. It was better to stay at -home, anxious as her heart was, than to exasperate her boy, who had so -many other things to trouble him. With much heroism the widow took off -her bonnet again and returned to Susan's room. There could be little -doubt now what the minister was going to do. While she seated herself -once more by her daughter's bedside, in a patience which was all but -unbearable, her son went alone to his last meeting with his flock. He -walked rapidly through Grove Street, going through the stream of Salem -people, who were moving in twos and threes in the same direction. A -little excitement had sprung up in Carlingford on the occasion. The -public in general had begun to find out, as the public generally does, -that here was a man who was apt to make disclosures not only of his -opinions but of himself wherever he appeared, and that a chance was -hereby afforded to the common eye of seeing that curious phenomenon, a -human spirit in action--a human heart as it throbbed and changed--a -sight more interesting than any other dramatic performance under heaven. -There was an unusual throng that night in Grove Street, and the audience -was not less amazed than the minister when they found what awaited them -in the Salem schoolroom. There Phoebe Tozer and her sister-spirits had -been busy all day. Again there were evergreen wreaths on the walls, and -the stiff iron gaslights were bristling with holly. Phoebe's genius -had even gone further than on the last great occasion, for there were -pink and white roses among the green leaves, and one of the texts which -hung on the wall had been temporarily elevated over the platform, framed -in wreaths and supported by extempore fastenings, the doubtful security -of which filled Phoebe's artless soul with many a pang of terror. It -was the tender injunction, "Love one another," which had been elevated -to this post of honour, and this was the first thing which met Vincent's -eye as he entered the room. Underneath, the platform table was already -filled with the elite of the flock. The ladies were all in their best -bonnets in that favoured circle, and Tozer stood glorious in his Sunday -attire--but in his own mind privately a little anxious as to the effect -of all this upon the sensitive mind of the minister--by the side of the -empty chair which had been left for the president of the assembly. When -Vincent was seen to enter, it was Tozer who gave the signal for a burst -of cheering, which the pleased assembly, newly aware of the treat thus -provided for it, performed heartily with all its boots and umbrellas. -Through this applause the minister made his way to the platform with -abstracted looks. The cheer made no difference upon the stubborn -displeasure and annoyance of his face. Nothing that could possibly have -been done to aggravate his impatient spirit and make his resolve -unalterable, could have been more entirely successful than poor Tozer's -expedient for the conciliation of the flock. Angry, displeased, humbled -in his own estimation, the unfortunate pastor made his way through the -people, who were all smiles and conscious favour. A curt general bow and -cold courtesy was all he had even for his friends on the platform, who -beamed upon him as he advanced. He was not mollified by the universal -applause; he was not to be moved to complaisance by any such argument. -He would not take the chair, though Tozer, with anxious officiousness, -put it ready for him, and Phoebe looked up with looks of entreaty from -behind the urn. In the sight of all the people he refused the honour, -and sat down on a little supernumerary seat behind, where he was not -visible to the increasing crowd. This refusal sent a thrill through all -the anxious deacons on the platform. They gathered round him to make -remonstrances, to which the minister paid no regard. It was a dreadful -moment. Nobody knew what to do in the emergency. The throng streamed in -till there was no longer an inch of standing-ground, nor a single seat -vacant, except that one empty chair which perplexed the assembly. The -urns began to smoke less hotly; the crowd gave murmurous indications of -impatience as the deacons cogitated-- What was to be done?--the tea at -least must not be permitted to get cold. At last Mr. Brown stood up and -proposed feebly, that as Mr. Vincent did not wish to preside, Mr. Tozer -should be chairman on this joyful occasion. The Salem folks, who thought -it a pity to neglect the good things before them, assented with some -perplexity, and then the business of the evening began. - -It was very lively business for the first half-hour. Poor Mrs. Tufton, -who was seated immediately in front of the minister, disturbed by his -impatient movements, took fright for the young man; and could not but -wonder in herself how people managed to eat cake and drink tea in such -an impromptu fashion, who doubtless had partaken of that meal before -leaving home, as she justly reflected. The old minister's wife stood by -the young minister with a natural esprit the corps, and was more anxious -than she could account for. A certain cloud subdued the hilarity of the -table altogether; everybody was aware of the dark visage of the -minister, indignant and annoyed, behind. A certain hush was upon the -talk, and Tozer himself had grown pale in the chair, where the good -butterman by no means enjoyed his dignity. Tozer was not so eloquent as -usual when he got up to speak. He told the refreshed and exhilarated -flock that he had made bold to give them a little treat, out of his own -head, seeing that everything had gone off satisfactory last night; and -they would agree with him as the minister had no call to take no further -trouble in the way of explanations. A storm of applause was the response -of the Salem folks to this suggestion; they were in the highest -good-humour both with themselves and the minister--ready to vote him a -silver tea-service on the spot, if anybody had been prompt enough to -suggest it. But a certain awe stole over even that delighted assembly -when Mr. Vincent came forward to the front of the table and confronted -them all, turning his back upon his loyal supporters. They did not know -what to make of the dark aspect and clouded face of the pastor, relieved -as it was against the alarmed and anxious countenances behind him. A -panic seized upon Salem: something which they had not anticipated--something -very different from the programme--was in the minister's eye. - -The Pigeons were in a back seat--very far back, where Mrs. Vincent had -been the previous evening--spies to see what was going on, plotting the -Temperance Hall and an opposition preacher in their treacherous hearts; -but even Mrs. Pigeon bent forward with excitement in the general -flutter. When the minister said "My friends," you could have heard a pin -drop in the crowded meeting; and when, a minute after, a leaf of holly -detached itself and fluttered down from one of the gaslights, the whole -row of people among whom it fell thrilled as if they had received a -blow. Hush! perhaps it is not going to be so bad after all. He is -talking of the text there over the platform, in its evergreen frame, -which Phoebe trembles to think may come down any moment with a crash -upon her father's anxious head. "Love one another!" Is Mr. Vincent -telling them that he is not sure what that means, though he is a -minister--that he is not very sure what anything means--that life is a -great wonder, and that he only faintly guesses how God, being pitiful, -had the heart to make man and leave him on this sad earth? Is that what -he says as he stands pale before the silent assembly, which scarcely -dares draw breath, and is ashamed of its own lightness of heart and -vulgar satisfaction with things in general? That is what the minister -says. "The way is full of such pitfalls--the clouds so heavy -overhead--the heavens, so calm and indifferent, out of reach--cannot we -take hands and help each other through this troubled journey?" says the -orator, with a low voice and solemn eyes. When he pauses thus and looks -them all in the face, the heart of Salem fails. The very gaslights seem -to darken in the air, in the silence, and there is not one of the -managers who does not hear the beating of his own heart. Then suddenly -the speaker raises his voice, raises his hand, storms over their heads -in a burst of indignation not loud but grand. He says "No."--"No!" -exclaims the minister--"not in the world, not in the church, nowhere on -earth can we be unanimous except by moments. We throw our brother down, -and then extend a hand to him in charity--but we have lost the art of -standing side by side. Love! it means that you secure a certain woman to -yourself to make your hearth bright, and to be yours for ever; it means -that you have children who are yours, to perpetuate your name and your -tastes and feelings. It does not mean that you stand by your brother for -him and not for you!" - -Then there followed another pause. The Salem people drew a long breath -and looked in each other's faces. They were guilty, self-convicted; but -they could not tell what was to come of it, nor guess what the speaker -meant. The anxious faces behind, gazing at him and his audience, were -blank and horror-stricken, like so many conspirators whose leader was -betraying their cause. They could not tell what accusation he might be -going to make against them, to be confirmed by their consciences; but -nobody except Tozer had the least conception what he was about to say. - -The minister resumed his interrupted speech. Nobody had ventured to -cheer him; but during this last pause, seeing that he himself waited, -and by way of cheering up their own troubled hearts, a few feeble and -timid plaudits rose from the further end of the room. Mr. Vincent -hurriedly resumed to stop this, with characteristic impatience. "Wait -before you applaud me," said the Nonconformist. "I have said nothing -that calls for applause. I have something more to tell you--more novel -than what I have been saying. I am going to leave Carlingford. It was -you who elected me, it is you who have censured me, it was you last -night who consented to look over my faults and give me a new trial. I am -one of those who have boasted in my day that I received my title to -ordination from no bishop, from no temporal provision, from no -traditionary church, but from the hands of the people. Perhaps I am -less sure than I was at first, when you were all disposed to praise me, -that the voice of the people is the voice of God; but, however that may -be, what I received from you I can but render up to you. I resign into -your hands your pulpit, which you have erected with your money, and hold -as your property. I cannot hold it as your vassal. If there is any truth -in the old phrase which calls a church a cure of souls, it is certain -that no cure of souls can be delegated to a preacher by the souls -themselves who are to be his care. I find my old theories inadequate to -the position in which I find myself, and all I can do is to give up the -post where they have left me in the lurch. I am either your servant, -responsible to you, or God's servant, responsible to Him--which is it? I -cannot tell; but no man can serve two masters, as you know. Many of you -have been kind to me--chief among all," said Vincent, turning once round -to look in Tozer's anxious face, "my friend here, who has spared no -pains either to make me such a pastor as you wished, or to content me -with that place when he had secured it. I cannot be content. It is no -longer possible. So there remains nothing but to say -good-bye--good-bye!--farewell! I will see you again to say it more -formally. I only wish you to understand now that this is the decision I -have come to, and that I consider myself no longer the minister of Salem -from this night." - -Vincent drew back instantly when he had said these words, but not before -half the people on the platform had got up on their feet, and many had -risen in the body of the room. The women stretched out their hands to -him with gestures of remonstrance and entreaty. "He don't mean it; he's -not going for to leave us; he's in a little pet, that's all," cried Mrs. -Brown, loud out. Phoebe Tozer, forgetting all about the text and the -evergreens, had buried her face in her handkerchief and was weeping, not -without demonstration of the fact. Tozer himself grasped at the -minister's shoulder, and called out to the astonished assembly that -"they weren't to take no notice. Mr. Vincent would hear reason. They -weren't a-going to let him go, not like this." The minister had almost -to struggle through the group of remonstrant deacons. "You don't mean -it, Mr. Vincent?" said Mrs. Tozer; "only say as it's a bit o' temper, -and you don't mean it!" Phoebe, on her part, raised a tear-wet cheek -to listen to the pastor's reply; but the pastor only shook his head, and -made no answer to the eager appeals which assailed him. When he had -extricated himself from their hands and outcries, he hastened down the -tumultuous and narrow passage between the benches, where he would not -hear anything that was addressed to him, but passed through with a brief -nod to his anxious friends. Just as Vincent reached the door, he -perceived, with eyes which excitement had made clearer than usual, that -his enemy, Pigeon, had just got to his feet, who shouted out that the -pastor had spoken up handsome, and that there wasn't one in Salem, -whatever was their inclination, as did not respect him that day. Though -he paid no visible attention to the words, perhaps the submission of -his adversary gave a certain satisfaction to the minister's soul; but he -took no notice of this nor anything else, as he hurried out into the -silent street, where the lamps were lighted, and the stars shining -unobserved overhead. Not less dark than the night were the prospects -which lay before him. He did not know what he was to do--could not see a -day before him of his new career; but, nevertheless, took his way out of -Salem with a sense of freedom, and a thrill of new power and vigour in -his heart. - -Behind he left a most tumultuous and disorderly meeting. After the first -outburst of dismay and sudden popular desire to retain the impossible -possession which had thus slid out of their hands--after Tozer's -distressed entreaty that they would all wait and see if Mr. Vincent -didn't hear reason--after Pigeon's reluctant withdrawal of enmity and -burst of admiration, the meeting broke up into knots, and became not one -meeting, but a succession of groups, all buzzing in different tones over -the great event. Resolutions, however, were proposed and carried all the -same. Another deputation was appointed to wait on Mr. Vincent. A -proposal was made to raise his "salary," and a subscription instituted -on the spot to present him with a testimonial. When all these things -were concluded, nothing remained but to dismiss the assembly, which -dispersed not without hopes of a satisfactory conclusion. The deacons -remained for a final consultation, perplexed with alarms and doubts. The -repentant Pigeon, restored to them by this emergency, was the most -hopeful of all. Circumstances which had changed his mind must surely -influence the pastor. An additional fifty pounds of "salary"--a piece of -plate--a congregational ovation--was it to be supposed that any -Dissenting minister bred at Homerton could withstand such conciliatory -overtures as these? - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - - -BUT the deputation and the increased salary and the silver salver were -all ineffectual. Arthur would not hear reason, as his mother knew. It -was with bitter restrained tears of disappointment and vexation that she -heard from him, when he returned to that conference in Susan's room, the -events of the evening. It came hard upon the widow, who had invited her -son to his sister's bedside that they might for the first time talk -together as of old over all their plans. But though her heart ached over -the opportunity thus thrown away, and though she asked herself with -terror, "What was Arthur to do now?" his mother knew he was not to be -persuaded. She smiled on Tozer next morning, ready to cry with vexation -and anxiety as she was. "When my son has made up his mind, it will be -vain for any one to try to move him," said the widow, proud of him in -spite of all, though her heart cried out against his imprudence and -foolishness; and so it proved. The minister made his acknowledgments so -heartily to the good butterman, that Tozer's disclaimer of any special -merit, and declaration that he had but tried to "do his dooty," was made -with great faltering and unsteadiness; but the Nonconformist himself -never wavered in his resolve. Half of Carlingford sat in tears to hear -Mr. Vincent's last sermon. Such a discourse had never been heard in -Salem. Scarcely one of the deacons could find a place in the crowded -chapel to which all the world rushed; and Tozer himself listened to the -last address of his minister from one of the doors of the gallery, where -his face formed the apex and culminating point of the crowd to Mr. -Vincent's eyes. When Tozer brushed his red handkerchief across his face, -as he was moved to do two or three times in the course of the sermon, -the gleam seemed to the minister, who was himself somewhat excited, to -redden over the entire throng. It was thus that Mr. Vincent ended his -connection with Salem Chapel. It was a heavy blow to the congregation -for the time--so heavy that the spirit of the butterman yielded; he was -not seen in his familiar seat for three full Sundays after; but the -place was mismanaged in Pigeon's hands, and regard for the connection -brought Tozer to the rescue. They had Mr. Beecher down from Homerton, -who made a very good impression. The subsequent events are so well known -in Carlingford, that it is hardly necessary to mention the marriage of -the new minister, which took place about six months afterwards. Old Mr. -Tufton blessed the union of his dear young brother with the blushing -Phoebe, who made a most suitable minister's wife in Salem after the -first disagreeables were over; and Mr. Beecher proved a great deal more -tractable than any man of genius. If he was not quite equal to Mr. -Vincent in the pulpit, he was much more complaisant at all the -tea-parties; and, after a year's experience, was fully acknowledged, -both by himself and others, to have made an 'it. - -Vincent meanwhile plunged into that world of life which the young man -did not know; not that matters looked badly for him when he left -Carlingford--on the contrary, the connection in general thrilled to hear -of his conduct and his speech. The enthusiasm in Homerton was too great -to be kept within bounds. Such a demonstration of the rightful claims of -the preacher had not been made before in the memory of man; and the -enlightened Nonconforming community did honour to the martyr. Three -vacant congregations at least wooed him to their pulpits; his fame -spread over the country: but he did not accept any of these invitations; -and after a while the eminent Dissenting families who invited him to -dinner, found so many other independencies cropping out in the young -man, that the light of their countenances dimmed upon him. It began to -be popularly reported, that a man so apt to hold opinions of his own, -and so convinced of the dignity of his office, had best have been in the -Church where people knew no better. Such, perhaps, might have been the -conclusion to which he came himself; but education and prejudice and -Homerton stood invincible in the way. A Church of the Future--an ideal -corporation, grand and primitive, not yet realised, but surely real, to -be come at one day--shone before his eyes, as it shines before so many; -but, in the mean time, the Nonconformist went into literature, as was -natural, and was, it is believed in Carlingford, the founder of the -'Philosophical Review,' that new organ of public opinion. He had his -battle to fight, and fought it out in silence, saying little to any one. -Sundry old arrows were in his heart, still quivering by times as he -fought with the devil and the world in his desert; but he thought -himself almost prosperous, and perfectly composed and eased of all -fanciful and sentimental sorrows, when he went, two or three years after -these events, to Folkestone, to meet his mother and sister, who had been -living abroad, away from him, with their charge, and to bring them to -the little house he had prepared for them in London, and where he said -to himself he was prepared, along with them--a contented but -neutral-coloured household--to live out his life. - -But when Mr. Vincent met his mother at Folkestone, not even the haze of -the spring evening, nor the agitation of the meeting, which brought back -again so forcibly all the events which accompanied the parting, could -soften to him the wonderful thrill of surprise, almost a shock, with -which he looked upon two of the party. The widow, in her close white cap -and black bonnet, was unchanged as when she fell, worn out, into his -arms on her first visit to Carlingford. She gave a little cry of joy as -she saw her son. She trembled so with emotion and happiness, that he -had to steady her on his arm and restrain his own feelings till another -time. The other two walked by their side to the hotel where they were to -rest all night. He had kissed Susan in the faint evening light, but her -brother did not know that grand figure, large and calm and noble like a -Roman woman, at whom the other passengers paused to look as they went -on; and his first glance at the younger face by her side sent the blood -back to his heart with a sudden pang and thrill which filled him with -amazement at himself. He heard the two talking to each other, as they -went up the crowded pier in the twilight, like a man walking in a dream. -What his mother said, leaning on his arm, scarcely caught his attention. -He answered to her in monosyllables, and listened to the voices--the -low, sweet laughter, the sound of the familiar names. Nothing in Susan's -girlish looks had prophesied that majestic figure, that air of quiet -command and power. And a wilder wonder still attracted the young man's -heart as he listened to the beautiful young voice which kept calling on -Susan, Susan, like some sweet echo of a song. These two, had they been -into another world, an enchanted country? When they came into the -lighted room, and he saw them divest themselves of their wrappings, and -beheld them before him, visible tangible creatures and no dreams, -Vincent was struck dumb. He seemed to himself to have been suddenly -carried out of the meaner struggles of his own life into the air of a -court, the society of princes. When Susan came up to him and laid her -two beautiful hands on his shoulders, and looked with her blue eyes into -his face, it was all he could do to preserve his composure, and conceal -the almost awe which possessed him. The wide sleeve had fallen back from -her round beautiful arm. It was the same arm that used to lie stretched -out uncovered upon her sick-bed like a glorious piece of marble. Her -brother could scarcely rejoice in the change, it struck him with so much -wonder, and was so different from his thoughts. Poor Susan! he had said -in his heart for many a day. He could not say poor Susan now. - -"Arthur does not know me," she said, with a low, liquid voice, fuller -than the common tones of women. "He forgets how long it is ago since we -went away. He thinks you cannot have anything so big belonging to you, -my little mother. But it is me, Arthur. Susan all the same." - -"Susan perhaps, since you say so--but not all the same," said Arthur, -with his astonished eyes. - -"And I daresay you don't know Alice either," said his sister. "I was -little and Alice was foolish when we went away. At least I was little in -Lonsdale, where nobody minded me. Somehow most people mind me now, -because I am so big, I suppose; and Alice, instead of being foolish, is -a little wise woman. Come here, Alice, and let my brother see you. You -have heard of him every day for three years. At last here is Arthur; -but what am I to do if he has forgotten me?" - -"I have forgotten neither of you," said the young man. He was glad to -escape from Susan's eyes, which somehow looked as if they were a bit of -the sky, a deep serene of blue; and the little Alice imagined he did not -look at her at all, and was a little mortified in her tender heart. -Things began to grow familiar to him after a while. However wonderful -they were, they were real creatures, who did not vanish away, but were -close by him all the evening, moving about--this with lovely fairy -lightness, that with majestic maiden grace--talking in a kind of dual, -harmonious movement of sound, filling the soft spring night with a world -of vague and strange fascination. The window was opened in their -sitting-room, where they could see the lights and moving figures, and, -farther off, the sea--and hear outside the English voices, which were -sweet to hear to the strangers newly come home. Vincent, while he -recovered himself, stood near this window by his mother's chair, paying -her such stray filial attentions as he could in the bewilderment of his -soul, and slowly becoming used to the two beautiful young women, -unexpected apparitions, who transformed life itself and everything in -it. Was one his real sister, strange as it seemed? and the other----? -Vincent fell back and resigned himself to the strange, sweet, -unlooked-for influence. They went up to London together next day. -Sunshine did not disperse them into beautiful mists, as he had almost -feared. It came upon him by glimpses to see that fiery sorrow and -passion had acted like some tropical tempestuous sun upon his sister's -youth; and the face of his love looked back upon him from the storm in -which it died, as if somehow what was impossible might be possible -again. Mrs. Mildmay, a wandering restless soul as she was, happened to -be absent from London just then. Alice was still to stay with her -dearest friends. The Nonconformist went back to his little home with the -sensation of an enchanted prince in a fairy tale. Instead of the -mud-coloured existence, what a glowing, brilliant firmament! Life became -glorious again under their touch. As for Mrs. Vincent, she was too happy -in getting home--in seeing Susan, after all the anguishes and struggles -which no one knew of fully but herself, rising up in all the strength of -her youth to this renewed existence--to feel as much distressed as she -had expected about Arthur's temporary withdrawal from his profession. It -was only a temporary withdrawal, she hoped. He still wore his clerical -coat, and called himself "clergyman" in the Blue Book--and he was doing -well, though he was not preaching. The Nonconformist himself naturally -was less sober in his thoughts. He could not tell what wonderful thing -he might not yet do in this wonderful elevation and new inspiring of his -heart. His genius broke forth out of the clouds. Seeing these two as -they went about the house, hearing their voices as they talked in -perpetual sweet accord, with sweeter jars of difference, surprised the -young man's life out of all its shadows;--one of them his sister--the -other----. After all his troubles, the loves and the hopes came back -with the swallows to build under his eaves and stir in his heart. - -THE END. - -PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER. - - * * * * * - -Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: - -I hope the congregration will=> I hope the congregation will {pg 180} - -shoked in all her gentle politeness=> shocked in all her gentle -politeness {pg 278} - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Salem Chapel, v. 2/2, by Mrs. Oliphant - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SALEM CHAPEL, V. 2/2 *** - -***** This file should be named 42044-8.txt or 42044-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/0/4/42044/ - -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. |