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-<title>The Convict. A Tale.</title>
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-
-Project Gutenberg's The Convict, by G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford) James
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: The Convict
- A Tale
-
-Author: G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford) James
-
-Release Date: February 9, 2016 [EBook #51164]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONVICT ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by
-Google Books (Harvard University)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br>
-1. Page scans provided by Google Books<br>
-https://books.google.com/books?id=mG8VAAAAYAAJ<br>
-(Harvard University)</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h3>THE CONVICT.</h3>
-<br>
-<h4>A Tale.</h4>
-<br>
-<br>
-<hr class="W20">
-<h5>BY</h5>
-
-<h3>G. P. R. JAMES</h3>
-<hr class="W20">
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>LONDON:
-<span style="font-size:smaller">SIMMS AND M'INTYRE,</span><br>
-<span style="font-size:smaller">PATERNOSTER ROW; AND DONEGALL ST. BELFAST.</span></h4>
-<h4>1851.</h4>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h3>THE CONVICT.</h3>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER I.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">It may be very well in most cases to plunge, according to the rule of
-the Latin poet, into the middle of things. It may be very well even,
-according to the recommendation of Count Antoine Hamilton, to 'begin
-with the beginning.' But there are other cases where there may be
-antecedents to the actual story, which require to be known before the
-tale itself is rightly comprehended. With this view, then, I will give
-one short scene not strictly attached to that which is to follow, ere
-I proceed with my history.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In a small high room of the oldest part of St. John's College,
-Cambridge, in a warm and glowing day of the early spring, and at about
-seven o'clock in the morning, there sat a young man with his cheek
-leaning on his hand, and his eyes fixed upon the page of an open book.
-There were many others closed and unclosed upon the table around him,
-as well as various pieces of paper, traced with every sort of curious
-figure which geometrical science ever discovered or measured. The
-page, too, on which his eyes were bent, was well nigh as full of
-ciphers as of words, and it was evident, from everything around, that
-the studies of the tenant of that chamber were of a very abstruse
-character.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">And yet to gaze at him as he sits there, and to consider attentively
-the lines of the face, and the development of the organs of the head,
-the physiognomist or phrenologist would, at once pronounce that,
-although by no means wanting in any of the powers of mind, that young
-man was by nature disposed to seek the pleasures of imagination rather
-than the dry and less exciting, though more satisfactory, results of
-science. There were some slight indications, too, about his room, of
-such tastes and propensities. In a wine-glass, half filled with water,
-were some early flowers, so arranged that every hue gained additional
-beauty from that with which it was contrasted; a flute and some music
-lay upon a distant table; one window, which looked towards the
-gardens, and through which came the song of birds and the fragrant
-breath of the fresh fields, was thrown wide open; while another, which
-looked towards courts and buildings, was closed, and had the curtains
-drawn. Nevertheless, had any eye watched him since he rose, it would
-have found that from the hour of five he had remained intent upon the
-problems before him, suffering not a thought to wander, neither rising
-from the table, nor turning his eyes even for a moment to the
-worshipped beauty of external nature. The air came in gently from
-without, and fanned his cheek, and waved the curls of his dark hair;
-the smell of the flowers was wafted to the sense; the song of the bird
-sounded melodious in his ear; but not the breeze, nor the odour, nor
-the lay called off his attention from the dry and heavy task before
-him. His cheek was pale with thought, his fine eyes looked oppressed
-with study, though still bright; and the broad expansive brow ached
-with the weary labours of many a day and night: labours to which he
-saw no end, from which he hardly hoped to obtain any very great
-result. Tall and manly in person, with limbs apparently formed for
-robust exercises, and a mind fitted for the enjoyment of every refined
-and graceful pleasure, he had chained down the body and, I may almost
-add, the spirit, to the hard captivity of intense study, in the hope
-some day of making himself a great name, and recovering from the grasp
-of fortune that wealth and station which had been the inheritance of
-his ancestors.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Still he felt weary and sick at heart; still hopeless despondency
-would hold him enthralled; and though, with, an unflinching
-perseverance, for many a long year he had pursued the same weary
-round, he felt that he was fitted for other things, and regretted that
-the energies of his nature were doomed to struggle with objects the
-most repulsive to his tastes.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There was a knock at the door; not a light and timid tap, but strong
-and familiar. Without raising his eyes, however, he said, &quot;Come in,&quot;
-and the next instant a gentleman entered, in a black gown and cap. He
-was an elderly man, with a somewhat florid and jovial, but upon the
-whole, benevolent countenance. His forehead was high, and very broad
-over the brows, and there were lines of thought upon it which mingled
-somewhat curiously with the cheerful and almost jocular expression of
-the lips and eyes. Indeed, he was a man of great eminence in science
-and in literature, who, having in early life conquered all the
-difficulties of very arduous pursuits, found no longer any trouble in
-those tasks which would have startled or overpowered many another man.
-and who consequently walked lightly under burdens which had become
-familiar, and which had in reality no weight for him, because he had
-become accustomed to bear them.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, Edward,&quot; he said--the young man was a distant relation of his
-own--&quot;still poring and plodding! My dear lad, you must not carry this
-too far. You have already done much, very much, and you must take some
-thought of health.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The young man rose with a faint smile, and placed a chair for his old
-relation. &quot;I have both your example and your precept, my dear sir,&quot; he
-replied, &quot;for pursuing the course before me without relaxation. You
-told me, some four years ago, that before you were as old as I was
-then, you had taken high honours at this university. I could only do
-so last year; and you have often said that unremitting study in youth
-is the only means of winning a title in after years to repose and
-enjoyment. Besides, I must study hard to recover lost time, and to fit
-myself for the course before me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;True, true, very true!&quot; rejoined the elder man; &quot;but you have studied
-hard for nearly six years now. There was the great fault. You did not
-begin early enough; your father should have sent you here full two
-years before you came. Let me see: you are now six-and-twenty, and for
-any man destined to fight his way in one of the learned professions,
-it is never too early to begin to labour.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But neither my poor father nor myself,&quot; replied the young gentleman,
-&quot;were at all aware that I should ever have, as you so justly call it,
-to fight my way in one of the learned professions, I was then the heir
-of six or seven thousand a year; I have now only the income of a
-fellowship; and that I could not have obtained had I not been
-supported here by your bounty.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Say nothing of that Edward,&quot; replied the other; &quot;neither let us look
-back. You have done enough for the present. You have distinguished
-yourself here; after the long vacation you will be called to the bar,
-and eminence, doubtless, is before you; but still there are a few hard
-steps to be taken, which require strength of body as well as powers of
-mind, and in your case both mind and body will suffer if you pursue
-this course any farther. Come, I have something to propose which I
-think will be gratifying to you, and which I know will be good for
-you. The friends of a young nobleman, whose father I knew well, have
-written to request that I would recommend to them some competent
-person to accompany their relation upon a short tour which he is about
-immediately to make upon the continent. The terms they propose are
-very liberal; the expedition will be a pleasant one; and if you choose
-to undertake the task, it will refresh and invigorate you, both
-mentally and corporeally. The young man will be of age in the autumn,
-and will return about the very time when you are to be called to the
-bar. The connexion is a very good one, and few men get on in life
-without powerful friends. By both information and character you are
-fitted to do justice to the trust reposed in you, and my advice is to
-accept the offer without hesitation. You know I would not recommend
-anything to you without due consideration of all the circumstances.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The young man paused thoughtfully ere he replied. The temptation was
-too strong to be resisted. At the time when all his prospects in life
-were blighted he had been preparing to set out, with all the resources
-of wealth at his command, upon such a tour as that in which he was now
-desired to share. Very different were the circumstances, it is true,
-but still the pleasures which he had then anticipated had nought to do
-with wealth, except as a means. He had formed no schemes of display,
-of luxury, or splendour: he had only thought of visiting scenes rich
-in natural beauty and historic recollections; of treading where great
-men had trod; of dwelling for a time where great deeds had been
-performed; of seeing the face of earth in its most beautiful and its
-grandest aspects; and all that was now before him. But yet there was a
-certain repugnance to the idea of dependence, to the thought of
-linking himself, even for a time, to a being of whose character,
-conduct, and views, he knew nothing, and his first reply was doubtful.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Who is this young lord, my dear sir?&quot; he asked. &quot;I should be very
-willing to go, as you judge it right, for, to say the truth, I am very
-weary of this life, which only the strong impulse of necessity has
-made me follow; but you can easily conceive I should not like the task
-of guiding every young man through Europe;&quot; and he added, with a
-melancholy smile, &quot;I am not fitted for bear-leading, as you know, and
-in this world there are many bears in high places.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;True,&quot; replied his relation, with a slightly sarcastic smile, and a
-touch of that unextinguishable jealousy which exists between St.
-John's and another great college--&quot;true; we see that every day at
-Trinity; but this young man is not a bear, nor a bear's cub; or, at
-all events, he is well licked. It is young Lord Hadley, whom you must
-have seen.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! I know him well,&quot; replied the student, with a well-satisfied
-look. &quot;Though not perfection, he is very much better than most young
-men of the present day; a little rash, a little given to dissipation,
-perhaps, but right at heart, kind and well feeling; too easily led,
-but yet, I do believe, always preferring right to wrong.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;As to rashness,&quot; replied his companion, &quot;you are rash enough, Ned,
-yourself; and as to his being easily led, that will be an advantage
-while he is with you. You have that decision of character which he
-wants; and will, I am sure, have power to restrain his habits of
-dissipation, and supply that firmness, for the time at least, of which
-he is destitute. I can see by your face that you are willing to
-undertake the task, and, therefore, I shall write in that sense.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Thus saying, he was turning towards the door; but he stopped, after
-taking a step or two, and coming back to the table, laid down upon it
-a piece of paper, which, with one of those curious tricks whereof most
-men have some, he had been twisting first round one finger and then
-round another, during the whole time that the conversation lasted.
-&quot;You will want a supply for your preparations, my dear lad,&quot; he said;
-&quot;there is a cheque for a couple of hundred pounds. You can repay me
-when you are a judge.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed I do not want it,&quot; answered the other, with a slight glow
-coming into his face; &quot;I have quite enough.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Pooh! nonsense,&quot; said the old man; &quot;if you have enough without it,
-buy oranges with it.&quot; And without waiting for farther discussion, he
-left the room.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER II.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">It was a dark autumnal night, the wind was strong and very fierce,
-sweeping along over fields and downs, tearing the branches and the
-withering leaves from the trees, and screaming along the rocks and
-tall precipitous cliffs upon a high and iron-bound part of the coast
-of England. There was no moon in the sky, but from time to time the
-sudden glance and disappearance of a star showed how rapidly the dull
-gray clouds were hurried over the face of the heavens; and the moaning
-of the trees and shrubs, added to the wild whistling of the gale,
-showed how it vexed the still, reposing, rooted things of creation in
-its harsh fury as it swept through them.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">On the summit of one of the most elevated points upon the coast there
-was a little indentation, extending from the highest point of the
-downs to the edge of the cliff, where it was somewhat lower than at
-other places. This little hollow was sheltered from most of the winds
-that blew, except when a gale came very nearly due west; and in
-consequence of this protection some low scrubby trees had gathered
-themselves together, as in a place of refuge, never venturing to raise
-their heads above the neighbouring slopes, but spreading out broad and
-tolerably strong in the lower part of the dell. From them there was a
-footpath extending on either side; on the one, leading to the top of
-the precipice, on the other, to the high road, which lay at about half
-a mile's distance. The path was little frequented, and the short
-mountain grass encroaching upon it here and there, almost obliterated
-the track, but in passing towards the top of the cliff it wound in and
-out amongst some large stones and rocks, with here and there a
-scattered tree overshadowing it as it ran on.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">By the side of one of those rocks, on the night of which I speak, and
-guarded by it from the direct course of the blast, were seated three
-powerful men, each of whom had reached what is called the middle age.
-They had a lantern with them; and between the lantern and the road one
-of them was seated with his back to the latter, his left shoulder
-touching the rock, and his face towards the sea. Thus, no one coming
-from the eastward could see the light itself, although, perhaps, a
-faint general glimmer could be perceived; but at the same time the
-lantern could be distinguished by any one on the sea at the distance
-of half a mile or more. Within that distance, the interposing cliff
-must have cut it off from the eyes of wanderers upon the wave.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The men were evidently watching for something, and as usually happens
-in such moments of expectation, their conversation was broken and
-desultory. None of them seemed to be armed, and two of them were
-clothed in sailors' jackets, while the third wore a large shaggy great
-coat, such as was commonly at that time used by pilots. He was a tall,
-strong, good-looking man enough, with a dark complexion, and a skin
-apparently well accustomed to exposure in all sorts of weathers, being
-rough and florid, and appearing, perhaps, more so than was really the
-case, from the glare of the lantern and the contrast of his own gray
-hair, as its long curls waved about in the night wind. The others were
-ordinary, hard-featured men, with that sort of grave, self-composed
-aspect, which is not at all unusual in sailors of all classes: men of
-few words and vigorous action, who can perhaps troll a song or crack a
-jest with their boon companions, but who are the most opposite
-creatures in the world to the sailor of drama or romance. But he in
-the rough coat had something about him which could not well be passed
-without attention by any one who had even ordinary powers of
-observation; and yet it is very difficult to describe what it was, for
-as he sat there perfectly still and tranquil, there was nothing, to
-all appearance, likely to call for remark. Yet it would have been
-difficult for any one to watch him at that moment without feeling that
-there was a something impressive in his figure, a dignity of aspect it
-may be called, for there is such a thing even in the rudest and least
-cultivated.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The wind whistled loud and strong; it was heard rushing and roaring
-farther down, and hissing and screaming high above over the bleak tops
-of the hills. There was a cheerless, desolate sound about it: a sound
-of warning and of woe. Well might the traveller hasten towards his
-journey's end, and the weary, houseless wanderer seek the shelter of
-shed or out-house, or the warm side, of the farmer's stack. But still
-those three men sat there almost motionless. The rock protected them
-to a certain degree, but the blast would whirl round the point and
-sweep chilling in amongst them. They were very silent, too, and not a
-word had been spoken for some ten minutes, when one said to the other,
-&quot;It won't do; the wind's getting to the southward, and if it shifts
-but one point she can't lay her course.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We must wait and see,&quot; said the man in the rough coat. &quot;I hope they
-won't try, if the wind does shift.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It has shifted already,&quot; said the third; &quot;it is coming right over
-from the great house.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">No reply was made, and they all fell into silence again.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I hope your people are keeping a good look-out, Master Clive,&quot; said
-one of the two sailor-looking men, after another long pause. &quot;Didn't I
-hear that you had sent your two young men away over to Dorchester?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I did it on purpose,&quot; replied the other; &quot;but do not you be afraid of
-the look-out. It is trusted to one who won't be found wanting.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It would be awkward if any of them were to pounce upon us,&quot; rejoined
-the other.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They might rue it,&quot; replied the man in the pilot's coat; and again
-the conversation stopped.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">About three minutes after, there was heard a loud halloo from the side
-of the high-road, and one of the men started up; but the voice of him
-they called Clive was heard saying, in a low tone, &quot;Lie close, lie
-close! I don't know the tongue; some drunken fool, perhaps, who has
-lost his way; but we shall soon see.&quot; And at the same time, drawing
-the lantern nearer to him, he put his hand into one of the large
-pockets of his coat, and pulled out a pistol, which he looked at by
-the dull light. The next instant the halloo was repeated, and the cock
-of the pistol was heard to click.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They are coming this way,&quot; said one of the sailors; &quot;hadn't we better
-dowse the glim, Master Clive?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; replied the other, sternly; &quot;would you have me endanger the boat
-and our friends in her, to save myself from a little risk?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As he spoke, steps were heard coming along the side of the hill, and
-the moment after, a voice called aloud, &quot;Is there a person of the name
-of Clive there?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The tone was that of a gentleman: there was no country accent, no
-broad pronunciation; and Clive instantly started up, replying, &quot;Yes;
-what do you want with me?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am sorry to tell you,&quot; said the voice they had heard, &quot;that an
-accident has happened to your daughter;&quot; and at the same time a tall,
-powerful, and handsome young man advanced towards the light. &quot;It is
-not, I trust, very serious,&quot; he added, in a kindly tone, as if anxious
-to allay the apprehensions which his first words must have produced.
-&quot;I am afraid her right arm is broken, but she complains of no other
-injury.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The old man put the pistol he had in his hand to the half-cock, and
-replaced the weapon in his pocket, gazing in the stranger's face with
-a look of apprehension and inquiry, but without making any reply for
-some moments.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Are you telling me the truth, sir?&quot; he said at length.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am, indeed,&quot; replied the stranger; &quot;I would not deceive you for the
-world. A gentleman, with whom I have been travelling, and myself, got
-out of the carriage to walk up the hill, and just at the top I saw
-something lying near the road, and heard, as I thought, a groan. On
-going nearer, I found a girl, partly covered with stones and dirt, and
-apparently unable to extricate herself. She said she was not much
-hurt, but could not shake off the mass that had fallen upon her, being
-unable to use her right arm.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It's that devil of a wall has fallen upon her,&quot; said one of the
-sailors. &quot;I knew it would come down some day in the first gale, for it
-was all bulging out, and nothing but loose stones at the best.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Exactly so,&quot; said the stranger; &quot;such was the account of the accident
-she herself gave; but it would seem that the wall brought part of the
-bank with it, which probably prevented the stones from injuring her
-more severely.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Where is she?&quot; demanded Clive, abruptly.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;She is in the carriage, just where the path joins the high road. We
-were taking her home as fast as possible, when she asked me to come
-down hither, and give you information of what had happened, for she
-said it was necessary you should know.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay! she is a dear good girl,&quot; said the man, in reply; &quot;she always
-thinks of those things; but I must think of her. I will go up with
-you, sir. You stay here, lads, and keep a good look out till after the
-tide has made; it will be no use staying any longer.&quot; And with a quick
-step he led the way along the edge of the little basin in the hills,
-taking a much shorter path than that which had been followed by his
-visitor while seeking him. As he went, he asked a few questions, brief
-and abrupt, but to the point; and after every answer, fell back into
-thought again. It is probable that apprehension for his child occupied
-his mind in those silent pauses, for the heart of affection is never
-satisfied with any tale, however true, however circumstantial, when a
-beloved object has been injured. We always ask ourselves, 'Is there
-not something more?'</p>
-
-<p class="normal">At length, as they mounted over the slope, the lighted lamps of a
-carriage could be seen on the high road, at a little distance, and in
-a moment after--for he now sprang forward eagerly--Clive was by the
-side of the vehicle. Two servants, one of whom was dressed in the
-costume of a courier, with a gold band round his cap, and a good deal
-of black silk braid on his coat, were standing by the side of the
-carriage, and one of them immediately threw open the door.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am not hurt, dearest father,&quot; said a sweet mellow voice, from
-within; &quot;that is to say, I am very little hurt. These two gentlemen
-have been very kind to me, and would insist upon taking me home,
-otherwise I would not have gone away, indeed.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You would have done very wrong to stay, my child,&quot; answered Clive;
-&quot;and I thank the gentlemen much for their kindness. Can you walk now,
-Helen?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;She shall not walk a step to night, Mr. Clive,&quot; said a young
-gentleman, who was sitting in the farther corner of the carriage; &quot;she
-is not fit for it; and we will not suffer such a thing. Nay more, I
-think it would be very much better for you to get in and take her
-home. I and my friend can follow on foot very well. It is but a short
-distance, and she has been telling me the way. Here, Müller, open this
-door.&quot; And before any one could stop him he was out of the carriage.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Clive made some opposition, but he suffered it to be overruled by the
-persuasions of the two gentlemen, and in a minute or two was seated by
-the side of his daughter, in the handsome travelling carriage which
-had brought her thither, and was rolling away towards his own house,
-the road to which the postillions seemed to know well. The two young
-gentlemen sauntered slowly after on foot, conversing over the accident
-which had diversified their journey.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;She seems to me to be exceedingly pretty,&quot; said the younger one, who
-had been left with her in the carriage, while the other went to seek
-Clive.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Her language and manners, too,&quot; rejoined the other, &quot;are very much
-superior to her father's apparent station. What in heaven's name could
-she be doing out there at this time of night?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps looking for her lover,&quot; replied the younger, with a laugh.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, no,&quot; said his companion; &quot;her own words and her father's will not
-admit of such a supposition. I have some doubt as to the trade of the
-parties; but she certainly seems very little fitted to take part in
-it, if it be what I suspect. Are you sure you know the way?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! quite sure,&quot; answered the other; &quot;we are to go on till we come to
-a finger-post, and then to turn down the lane to the left. That will
-lead us to the house, and she says there is no other there.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The moon is getting up, I think, to guide us,&quot; said the elder of the
-two young men; and then, after a moment's silence, during which his
-thoughts wandered wide, he added, &quot;I dare say we shall be able to get
-some information at the house as to this good Master Clive's
-avocations. He had a cocked pistol in his hand when I came up, and did
-not seem at all well pleased at being disturbed.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In such sort of chat they walked on, the moon rising slowly, and
-spreading her silvery light over the scene. Sometimes she was hidden
-for a moment by the rushing clouds; but, with the peculiar power of
-the soft planet, her beams seemed to absorb the vapours that sought to
-obscure them; as calm truth, shining on and growing brighter as it
-rises, devours the mists of prejudice and error, with which men's
-passions and follies attempt to veil it.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In about a quarter of an hour they reached the finger-post which had
-been mentioned, and there found one of the servants waiting to guide
-them on the way. By him they were informed that the house was not more
-than a quarter of a mile distant; and although one of the young
-gentlemen said that it might have been as well to order the carriage
-to come back to the high road as soon as it had set the poor girl and
-her father down, the other replied that it would be much better to go
-and see how she was, as there might be no surgeon in the
-neighbourhood, and they might be able to render some assistance.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A minute or two after, the road led them to the brink of a little
-dell, narrow, and well wooded, on the other side of which, rising high
-above the trees, appeared a tall house, flat, and not very
-picturesque, except from its accessories, although the moon was now
-shining bright on the only side which the travellers saw. The road,
-winding about to avoid the dell, carried them round to the other side
-of the building, where they had to pass through a large farm-yard, the
-dogs in which recorded in very loud tones their protest against the
-admission of any strangers, although an old woman-servant, with a
-light shaded by her apron, was waiting at the door to receive the
-expected guests.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The place into which they were admitted, was evidently a large
-farm-house of a very comfortable description. It might have been in
-former times, indeed, the seat of some country gentleman of small
-fortune, for the room on the left of the passage in which they
-entered, was handsomely wainscoted with oak, each panel of which was
-surrounded by a very respectable garland of flowers carved in the
-woodwork. There, too, was a little sideboard, partly covered with
-china and glass, rather heterogeneous in its parts, and which might
-almost have furnished a history of glass ware from the time of the
-middle ages downwards. There were tall Venice glasses, cut and gilt
-like attar-of-rose bottles. There was the pleasant large claret glass,
-so light that it added nothing to the weight of the wine within, with
-a white spiral in the stalk, and sundry little stars ground upon the
-delicate sides. There was the large goblet, somewhat yellowish in
-tinge, rudely and bluntly cut and polished, looking almost like a cup
-of rock crystal; and in the centre was an exceedingly beautiful large
-chalice, richly gilt and ornamented, very delicate in form. But these
-were mingled with things of more common use, some handsome enough in
-their kind, but others of a sort usually to be seen in the basket of
-an itinerant vender of crockery and decanters.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">I might go on farther, describing many other curious little things
-which that room contained, for there was a number of them; but I have
-gone far enough to give some idea of the place, and have done so not
-without thought; for, rightly read, I know few things that give a more
-correct indication of the character of particular persons, if they
-have any character at all, which is not always the case, than the
-objects with which they surround themselves in their familiar
-dwellings.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">However, the two young gentlemen had hardly time to observe much,
-before a door, different from that by which they had entered,
-opened, and Clive himself came in. He had laid aside his heavy coat,
-and now appeared in the dress of a wealthy farmer; and certainly a
-powerful, well-looking, dignified man he was. There was no want of
-ease in his manners, though they were not in the least familiar or
-self-sufficient. There seemed, indeed, a consciousness of powers
-mental and corporeal about him; a reliance upon his own nature, which
-left not the slightest touch of embarrassment in his demeanour. He
-never seemed to doubt that what he was doing and what he was saying
-was right, though without thinking it at all extraordinary or
-excellent.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am deeply obliged to you, gentlemen, both,&quot; he said; &quot;and to you,
-sir, in particular;&quot; and he turned to the elder of the two. &quot;My
-daughter, thank God! is not much hurt; for though her arm is broken, I
-trust we shall get that set speedily.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I hope you have some surgeon here,&quot; said the younger gentleman; &quot;for
-whatever is to be done, had better be done at once.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;None nearer than the town, and that is seven miles,&quot; replied Clive;
-&quot;most unfortunately, too, I have sent both my men to some distance,
-but I have ordered one of the girls to go and call up the herd, and
-bid him bring the doctor directly.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why not send one of the post-boys?&quot; said the young gentleman; &quot;he is
-already mounted, and two horses will carry us easily on, for we cannot
-have more than two or three miles to go.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The proposal was adopted with many thanks, and the post-boy
-accordingly sent on, after which the farmer, for so we must call him,
-refrained, with a native sense of propriety, from loading the two
-strangers with any further expressions of gratitude; but told them
-that his daughter would be glad to see them before they went, to thank
-them personally for the service they had rendered her.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;She is in the next room,&quot; he said, &quot;and will not be satisfied unless
-I bring you there.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There was no great resistance made, for the younger man had a strong
-inclination to see whether, in the full light, she was as pretty as
-she had seemed; and his companion felt that sort of interest in her
-which a fine mind always takes in those on whom some benefit has been
-conferred. The room in which she was, adjoined that which they had
-first entered, and was fitted up very neatly, though plainly, as a
-little sort of drawing-room. The girl herself was seated on a small
-chintz-covered sofa, with her right arm supported by a cushion, and
-one small foot resting on a stool. She was certainly exceedingly
-beautiful, with large dark devoted-looking eyes, and dark eyebrows and
-eyelashes, but with hair of a light brown, and an exceedingly fair
-skin. A mixture of races seemed apparent in her; for the hair and
-complexion of the fair Saxon were blended, yet not inharmoniously,
-with the dark eyes of more southern lands. Her hand was small and
-delicate, and her form fine, though slight; her dress, too, though
-plain, was very good and ladylike; and everything that they saw was
-calculated to raise greater surprise in the minds of her visitors that
-she should be out alone, apparently watching for something upon the
-high road, in a cold autumnal night.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Gracefully, and with much feeling, she thanked the two gentlemen, and
-especially the elder, for extricating her from her dangerous and
-painful situation, and for the kindness and tenderness which they had
-afterwards shown her. The colour varied a good deal in her cheek as
-she did so; and having received, in answer to their questions, an
-assurance that she suffered very little--and that, from the fact of
-the mass of earth which came down with the wall having diminished the
-force of the stones, she was uninjured, except inasmuch as her arm was
-broken, and her left foot somewhat bruised--they took their leave, and
-departed to resume their journey.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER III.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">There was a small party assembled at a large country house not above
-three miles, by the high road, from the spot where the last events
-which I have recorded took place. It was a very extensive and very
-old-fashioned brick building. Old-fashioned! It is a curious term. The
-house was little more than a century old; a father might have seen it
-built, and a son might have heard it called old-fashioned, for the
-savour of earthly things passes away so rapidly, that what our parents
-considered the perfection of skill and convenience, we hold to be but
-a rude effort towards our own excellence. Yet they were very
-convenient buildings, those old houses of the reigns of George the
-First and George the Second; solid in their walls, large and yet
-secure in their windows, high in their ceilings, broad and low in
-their staircases, many in their rooms, and strong in their partitions.
-There was little lath and plaster about them, little tinsel and bright
-colouring; but there was a sober and a solid grandeur, a looking for
-comfort rather than finery, of durability rather than cheapness, which
-made them pleasant to live in, and makes them so even to the present
-day.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Nothing that tended to comfort was wanting in that house; its solidity
-seemed to set at defiance wind, and storm, and time; and its wide
-grates laughed in the face of frost and cold, and bade them get forth,
-for they could have no abiding there. Turkey carpets covered most of
-the floors, even of those rooms which, by a law of the Draco-like
-dictator, Fashion, are condemned to bear that sort of carpet called
-Brussels, although the town which has given it name probably never in
-the world's history produced a rood thereof. The Turks, when they made
-them, must have marvelled much at what the Christian dogs could want
-with such large carpets; for the one in the room where the party was
-assembled--which was called the drawing-room, although it was lined
-with books--could not have been less than forty feet in length, by
-thirty in breadth, and yet there was a margin between it and the
-book-cases. There were four windows on one side of the room, as one
-looked towards which there was a door on the right hand leading into
-the library, a door on the left leading into the dining-room, and
-opposite the windows was another door, which opened into a large
-vestibule, separated from a stone hall by a screen filled up with
-glass.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In one of the two fire-places which the room contained was a large
-blazing fire of wood, and near it was seated in an arm-chair, reading
-a book, a very gentlemanly and well-dressed man, a good deal past the
-middle age, with his feet, warming themselves at the blaze, crossed
-and elevated upon a low stool. The other fire-place was not so well
-attended to, but, nevertheless, it was glowing with a tolerable degree
-of brightness, and near it were seated two young people, amusing
-themselves, as best they might, during an evening which expectation
-had rendered somewhat tedious. Sometimes they played at chess
-together, and laughed and wrangled good-humouredly enough; sometimes
-the one read and the other wrote; sometimes the one drew and the other
-read; sometimes they talked in low tones, and laughed gaily as they
-conversed. They were very nearly of an age, that is to say, there was
-not quite two years' difference between them, but those two years had
-been so allotted, as, considering their sexes, to make the difference
-of five or six. The lady was the elder of the two. She was very nearly
-approaching one-and-twenty, while the young man was a few months
-beyond nineteen. They seemed fond of each other, but it was with a
-fraternal sort of fondness, although they were not brother and sister;
-and yet, for the young man at least, their near propinquity, and
-constant communication, had it not been for other circumstances, might
-have proved dangerous, for certainly a lovelier or more engaging
-creature has seldom been seen than her with whom he then sat in the
-unchecked familiarity of near relationship. She was the very opposite,
-in personal appearance at least, of the girl we have lately spoken of.
-Her hair could hardly be called black, for in certain lights there was
-a gleam of rich brown in it, but her eyebrows and eyelashes were as
-dark as night, and her complexion, though by no means brown in itself,
-and tinged in the cheeks with the rose, was of that shade which
-usually accompanies black hair; but her blue eyes were blue; deep
-blue, it is true; so much so, that what with the jetty fringe that
-surrounded them, and their own depth of hue, many a person thought
-that they were black. Yet they were blue--very blue; of the colour of
-an Italian sky when the sun has just gone down beyond the highest
-hill, and left it full of depth and lustre. In height she was
-certainly taller than the Venus de Medici; but yet she did not strike
-one as tall, whether it was from the great symmetry of her figure or
-some peculiarity in the proportions. But that which most attracted an
-observer, and especially those who knew her well, was a sparkling
-variety in the expression of her countenance, and a similar variety in
-the grace of her movements. When she was reading, or thinking, or
-writing, or singing, there was an earnestness, a deep tranquillity in
-her aspect, which would have made one suppose her a being of a very
-meditative and almost grave disposition; but in conversation, and on
-all ordinary occasions, the look was quite different; gay, sparkling,
-flashing with cheerfulness and spirit. When she sat still, the lines
-of her form fell with such easy grace, and seemed so full of tranquil
-beauty, that any one might have thought that the predominant character
-was calm repose; but when she moved, especially under any immediate
-excitement, the light elasticity of every motion changed her at once
-into a different creature.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Her young companion was very different in every respect. Of a fair and
-almost feminine complexion, his light hair waved gracefully over a
-fine high brow, his blue eyes were soft and kindly-looking, and his
-lips and nose, chiselled with the utmost delicacy, would have suited a
-woman's face better than a man's. No beard or whiskers as yet gave
-anything masculine to his countenance, and his slight figure and soft
-satiny skin made him look still younger than he really was. To look
-upon him, one would not have supposed that he had seen more than
-sixteen years of age; and yet under that fair and delicate form there
-were many strong and generous impulses, firm and resolute purposes,
-and even a daring spirit, mingled strangely enough with a tenderness
-and devotedness seldom found in the grown and experienced man, and a
-degree of simplicity not at all approaching weakness, but depending
-upon youth and inexperience.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I care nothing about it, Edgar,&quot; said the lady, in a low tone, in
-answer to something which the other had said; &quot;he may come and go
-whenever he pleases, without my ever giving the matter two thoughts.
-You cannot tease me, cousin, for it is a matter of no interest to me,
-I can assure you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I know better, little heretic,&quot; replied her young companion; &quot;you
-would fain have me believe, Eda, that you are as cold as ice, but I
-know better. We shall see the fire kindled some day.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Very likely,&quot; said the lady, with a smile; &quot;but you know, Edgar, that
-even that curious black stone, which seems to have been especially
-given to England for the purpose of drying and warming our damp, cold
-climate, smoking our ceilings and dirtying our hands, is as cold as
-ice, too, till it is kindled.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But there may be such things as concealed fires, fair cousin,&quot;
-retorted the young man, with a laugh.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The lady's cheek coloured a little, but she instantly changed the
-defence into an attack, saying, almost in a whisper, and with a glance
-to the gentleman reading by the fire, &quot;I know there are, Edgar. Take
-care, you bold boy, take care; for if you make war upon me, I shall
-carry it into your own country.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The young man glanced hastily round him, in the same direction which
-her eyes had before taken, and his cheek blushed like that of a young
-girl at the first kiss of love. The lady saw that she had not missed
-her mark, and maliciously sent another shaft after the first. &quot;Where
-were you this morning at eight o'clock?&quot; she said, in the same subdued
-tone; &quot;and yesterday, and the morning before? Ah, Master Edgar! do not
-jest with edged tools, or at least, learn how to use them better, or
-you will cut your fingers, dear boy!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Hush, hush!&quot; said the young man, in a low voice, and evidently a good
-deal agitated; &quot;let us make peace, Eda.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You began hostilities,&quot; replied the lady, satisfied that she had got
-that command of her young companion which ladies do not at all
-dislike, and by that very means which they are fondest of
-employing--the possession of a secret.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Almost at the same moment in which she spoke, the older gentleman by
-the fire laid his book upon his knee, and pulled his watch out of his
-pocket. &quot;Very extraordinary!&quot; he said, turning round his head; &quot;it is
-nearly ten o'clock; I am glad we dined. You see, Eda, there is no
-counting upon the motions of young men.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Especially, my dear uncle,&quot; replied the lady, &quot;when combined with bad
-roads, bad horses, and high hills. I will answer for it, when Lord
-Hadley does come, you will have long tales of broken-down hacks,
-together with abuse of lazy postillions and slow ostlers. But hark!
-here he comes, or some carriage, at least, for carts are quiet at this
-time of night.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And don't dash along the avenue at such a rate,&quot; said her cousin
-Edgar; &quot;it is certainly the ship in sight, and we shall soon see the
-freight.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The two gentlemen looked towards the door and listened, the lady
-calmly pursued the task which occupied her, copying some music from a
-sheet of embossed and pink-edged paper; and one of those little
-intervals succeeded which take place between the arrival at the door
-and the appearance in the drawing-room of an expected guest. It lasted
-a minute, or a minute and a half, for there seemed to be some orders
-to be given in the passage, and some questions to be asked; and then
-the door of the room opened, and a servant, in a well-laced jacket,
-announced &quot;Lord Hadley,&quot; and &quot;Mr. Dudley.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Had any eye watched the lady's countenance, they would certainly have
-thought that some strong emotion was busy in her heart at that moment,
-for her cheek first turned very pale, and then glowed warmly; but
-it might also have been remarked that it was not at the first name
-that the varying hue became apparent. The second name produced the
-change, and, at the same time, the pen in her hand dropped upon the
-music-paper, and blotted out the note she had just been tracing.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">At the name of Mr. Dudley, too, an alteration of aspect took place in
-her uncle, but it was momentary; his brow contracted, his face turned
-pale, but immediately a placable look returned, and with a courteous
-smile he advanced to meet the two gentlemen who entered. They were the
-same whom we have seen upon the road, and in the house of Mr. Clive.
-The second of the two, also, I must remark, not to give the reader the
-trouble of turning back, was the student to whose room at Cambridge I
-first introduced him.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Lord Hadley, a young, slight, fashionable man, with a good deal of
-light hair always in high gloss and beautiful order, and a profusion
-of whisker nicely curled, advanced at once towards the elder
-gentleman, and shook him heartily by the hand, calling him Sir Arthur
-Adelon. He then extended his hand to the young gentleman, whom he
-seemed to know well also, giving as he did so, a glance, but not one
-of recognition, towards the face of the lady. Sir Arthur instantly
-touched his arm gently, and led him up to her, saying, &quot;Eda, my dear,
-let me introduce to you my friend, Lord Hadley--Lord Hadley, my niece,
-Miss Brandon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Lord Hadley bowed, and the lady curtsied gravely; but there was
-evidently no emotion upon her part, at the introduction. In the mean
-time, Mr. Dudley had remained in the most unpleasant occupation in the
-world, that of doing nothing while other people are taken notice of. A
-moment after, however, Sir Arthur Adelon turned towards him, and with
-a courteous though somewhat formal how, said, &quot;I am very happy to see
-you, Mr. Dudley; allow me to introduce you to my son and my niece.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have already the pleasure of Miss Brandon's acquaintance,&quot; said the
-tutor; and advancing towards her, he shook hands with her warmly. If
-she really felt any strong emotions at that moment, she concealed them
-well; and Mr. Dudley, turning again towards the baronet, finished with
-graceful ease what he had been saying. &quot;I was not at all aware, Sir
-Arthur, that Miss Brandon was your niece, or it would have added
-greatly to the pleasure I had in accompanying Lord Hadley, which
-pleasure is more than perhaps you know, for it affords me the
-opportunity of expressing my gratitude to an old friend and benefactor
-of my poor father.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The gentleman to whom he spoke was evidently embarrassed from some
-cause, though what that was did not fully appear. His face again
-turned somewhat pale, and he hesitated in his reply. &quot;Oh! really!&quot; he
-said; &quot;then you are the son of Mr. Dudley of St. Austin's? Well, I am
-very happy, indeed, to see you;&quot; and he shook hands with him, but it
-was not warmly, adding, as he did so, &quot;but you are late, gentlemen. We
-waited dinner for you an hour, and had even given up the hope of
-seeing you to-night.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am really very sorry we detained you,&quot; replied Lord Hadley; &quot;but we
-have had two adventures, or rather, one impediment and one adventure.
-First, at Dorchester, we found all the post-horses gone to some
-review, or races, or archery-meeting, or one of those many tiresome
-things, I don't well know what, which take post-horses away from the
-places where they ought to be; and then, not far from this place, we
-found a young lady who had contrived to get herself nearly crushed to
-death under a wall, which had fallen, and carried a whole bank of
-earth along with it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Instant exclamations of surprise and interest followed; and the young
-nobleman, who did not dislike attracting a little attention, proceeded
-with his tale. After describing the spot where they discovered the
-poor girl, he proceeded, in a frank, dashing way, to say, &quot;She owes
-her life, in truth, to my friend Dudley; for I, with my usual
-thoughtlessness, was going to draw her from under the rubbish that had
-fallen upon her as fast as I could; but he stopped me, showing me that
-if I attempted it, I should bring down the whole of the rest of the
-stones; and then he set to work, as if he had been bred an engineer,
-and secured her against any fresh accident in the first place. She was
-not so much hurt as might have been expected, though, I am sorry to
-say, her poor little arm was broken.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">On the old gentleman the tale had produced little impression; in Eda
-Brandon it had excited feelings of compassion and interest; but it had
-affected young Edgar Adelon very much more perceptibly. Luckily, no
-one was looking at him; and he had not voice to attract any attention
-towards himself by asking even a single question, though there was one
-he would have given worlds to put.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But what did you do with her?&quot; demanded Eda Brandon, eagerly. &quot;You
-should have brought her on here, if the place was not far distant; we
-could easily have sent for a surgeon, and we would have taken good
-care of her.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We knew neither the way nor the distance, Miss Brandon,&quot; said Mr.
-Dudley; &quot;but we did what was probably the best under any
-circumstances. We took her to her father's house, and Lord Hadley
-kindly sent on one of the post-boys to seek for some one to set her
-arm.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is doubtless Helen Clive he speaks of,&quot; said a voice just behind
-Mr. Dudley; so peculiar in its tones, so low, so distinct, so silvery,
-that no one who heard it once could ever forget it.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley turned quickly round, and beheld a middle-aged man, dressed in
-a long, straight-cut black coat, with a black handkerchief round his
-neck, and no shirt-collar apparent. His beard was closely shaved, and
-looked blue through the pale skin. His eyes were fine, the brow large
-and fully developed, but the mouth small and pinched, as if that
-feature, which, together with the eyebrow, is more treacherous in its
-expression of the passions than any other, was under strong and
-habitual command. He stooped a little from the shoulders, either from
-weakness or custom, and indeed he seemed by no means a strong man in
-frame; but yet there was something firm and resolute in his aspect; a
-look of conscious power, as if he had been seldom frustrated in life.
-The gray eyebrow, too, hanging over the dark eye, and seeming to veil
-its fire, gave an expression of inquiring perspicacity to the whole
-face, which impressed one more with the idea of intelligence than of
-sincerity. No one had seen or heard him enter, except, indeed, Sir
-Arthur Adelon, whose face was towards the door, but yet he had been
-standing close to the rest of the party for two or three minutes
-before attention was attracted to himself by the words he uttered.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Lord Hadley turned, as well as his tutor, and looked at the new-comer
-with some curiosity. &quot;Yes,&quot; he replied, &quot;her name was Clive, and I
-think the old gentleman called her Helen.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;If her name was Clive,&quot; rejoined the man whom he had addressed, &quot;it
-was assuredly Helen Clive; for there is but one Mr. Clive in this
-neighbourhood, and he has but one child.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Really, sir, I am delighted to find you know so much about him,&quot; said
-Lord Hadley; &quot;for both he and his daughter, to tell you the truth,
-have excited in me a good deal of interest and curiosity.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why?&quot; was the stranger's brief question; and it was put in a somewhat
-dry and unpleasant tone.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! simply because we found that she had been out upon the high road
-at nine o'clock at night, sitting under an uncemented stone wall,
-watching for something or somebody,&quot; was the first part of Lord
-Hadley's reply, for he thought the stranger's tone rather impertinent.
-&quot;So much for my curiosity,&quot; he continued. &quot;Then, as for my interest:
-in the first place, my dear sir, she was exceedingly pretty; in the
-next place, wonderfully ladylike, considering the circumstances in
-which we found her; then, she had broken her arm, which, though
-perhaps not as poetical as some other accidents, was enough to create
-some sympathy, surely; and moreover, Dudley found her father sitting
-upon the top of the cliff, looking over the sea, with a cocked pistol
-in his hand.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;As to her beauty,&quot; replied the stranger, &quot;with that I have nothing to
-do. The interest you feel is undoubtedly worthy and well-deserved; and
-as to the wonder, sir, you may depend upon it, that whatever Helen
-Clive was doing, she had good reason for doing, and motives which, if
-she chose to explain them, would quiet your surprise very speedily.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Mr. Dudley, who had taken no part in the conversation, smiled slightly
-to hear a perfect stranger to Lord Hadley assume at once that tone of
-calm superiority which he knew was likely to be most impressive with
-his pupil.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The young nobleman was about to reply, however, when Sir Arthur Adelon
-interposed, saying, &quot;My lord, I should have introduced to you before
-now our friend, the Reverend Mr. Filmer--Mr. Filmer, Lord Hadley.&quot; The
-young lord bowed, and the other gentleman advanced a step, when, as he
-passed, Mr. Dudley perceived that a small spot, about the size of a
-crown piece, on the top of his head, was shaved, and recognising at
-once the Roman Catholic priest, he gained with rapid combination some
-insight into several things which had before been obscure.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The priest's manner softened. In a few moments he, with Lord Hadley
-and their host, were in full conversation. With timid hesitation young
-Edgar Adelon drew near and joined them; and Dudley, approaching the
-table near which Miss Brandon was still standing, spoke a few words
-with her in perhaps a lower tone than is quite customary on ordinary
-occasions. They neither of them knew that they were speaking low; but
-the emotions of the heart have immense mastery over the tones of the
-voice; and though the words that they uttered were little more than
-commonplace sentences of surprise and pleasure at their unexpected
-meeting, of question and explanation of what had occurred to each
-since they had last seen each other, they were certainly both a good
-deal moved by the unspoken eloquence of the heart. In a short time,
-just as Lord Hadley was about to retire to his room to put his dress
-in order, supper was announced, and postponing his toilet, he offered
-his arm to Miss Brandon, and led her into the adjacent room. Sir
-Arthur Adelon and Mr. Dudley followed, and the priest lingered for a
-moment or two behind, speaking to the baronet's son, and then entered
-the supper-room with a quick step. He then blessed the meal with every
-appearance of devotion; and Dudley's eye, which was marking much,
-perceived that Sir Arthur and his son made the sign of the cross, but
-that Eda Brandon forbore; and he was glad to see it.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The meal became very cheerful: as it went on, the first strangeness of
-new arrival wore off with the two guests. Jest and gaiety succeeded to
-more serious discourse, and topic after topic was brought forward and
-cast away again with that easy lightness which gives a great charm to
-conversation. The master of the house was somewhat stiff and stately,
-it is true; but the three young men did not suffer his dignified air
-to chill them. The priest was a man of great and very various
-information, had seen, studied, and penetrated not only all the
-ordinary aspects of society, but the hearts and spirits of thousands
-of individuals. There was not a subject that he could not talk upon,
-whether gay or grave; from the green-room of the theatre or
-opera-house, to the cabinets of statesmen and the saloons of monarchs.
-His conversation was graceful, easy, flowing, and becoming; and
-although there was a point of sarcastic wit in it which gave it, in
-the opinion of Dudley, almost too great a piquancy, yet when that
-gentleman recollected what had been said, he could not find one word
-that was unfitted to the character of a well-bred man and a priest. It
-was all so quietly done too: the stinging gibe, the light and flashing
-jest, that the young tutor sometimes thought the whole must have
-received point and peculiar application from the manner; but yet he
-could not recollect emphasis laid upon any word; and he carried away
-from that table, when he retired to rest at night, much matter for
-thought upon all that he had seen, and many a deep feeling re-awakened
-in his heart, which he had hoped and trusted had been laid asleep by
-the power of reason, and the struggle of a strong mind against a warm
-and enthusiastic heart.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER IV.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">The wind had blown away the clouds which lay so heavy on the sky
-the night before. The morning rose bright and sparkling, with a
-brisk gale stirring the air, and a clear, fresh, frosty look over
-the whole earth. At an early hour--for matutinal habits had become
-inveterate--Mr. Dudley rose, and going to the window, gazed out upon a
-scene of which he had been able to discover little at the dark hour
-of his arrival.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">I will not pause to describe all that he beheld, for the public taste
-is as capricious in matters of composition as in regard to mere dress;
-and the detailed description of scenery, the pictures with the pen,
-which please much at one time, weary at another. It is a railroad age,
-too: all the world is anxious to get on, and we hurry past
-remorselessly all the finer traits of mind and character which were
-objects of thought and study to our ancestors, just as the traveller,
-in the long screaming, groaning, smoking train, is hurried past those
-sweet and beautiful spots in which the contemplative man of former
-days was accustomed to pause and ponder.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">On one small portion of the landscape, however, I must dwell, for I
-shall have to speak of it presently, and must recur to it more than
-once hereafter. The house was situated in an extensive park; and a
-long avenue of beech trees, not perfectly straight, but sweeping with
-a graceful curve over the undulations of the ground, led down to the
-park gates and to the lodge. At a short distance from that lodge, a
-little thicket of wood joined on to the avenue, and ran along in
-irregular masses till it reached the park wall: and these objects, the
-avenue, the wavy green slopes of the park, the thicket beyond, and the
-top of the park wall, were those upon which Mr. Dudley's eye first
-rested. Beyond the limits of the park, again, in the same direction,
-he caught a glimpse of a varied country, apparently tolerably fertile
-and well-cultivated, close to the park, but growing rapidly wilder and
-more rude, as it extended into some high and towering downs, which
-Dudley conceived to be those he had traversed the night before.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As the reader well knows, some kinds of beech tree retain their leaves
-longer than almost any other tree or shrub, except the tribe of
-evergreens; and even through frost, and wind, and rain, they hang
-yellow upon the wintry boughs, till the coming of the new green buds,
-like ambitious children, forces their predecessors down to the earth.
-The avenue was thus thickly covered, so that any one might have walked
-there long unseen from most parts of the house or park. But when Lord
-Hadley, on his way back to London from the Continent, had accepted a
-kind, though not altogether disinterested invitation to Brandon--for
-so the place was called--he had merely mentioned that his tutor was
-with him, and to the tutor had been assigned a room considerably
-higher in the house than the apartments of more lordly guests. Dudley
-did not feel at all displeased that it should be so; and now as he
-looked forth, he had a bird's-eye view, as it were, of the avenue, and
-a fine prospect over the distant country. Thus he was well contented;
-and as he had been informed that the family did not meet at breakfast
-till half-past nine, and it was then little more than six, he
-determined to dress himself at once, and roam for an hour or two
-through the park, and perhaps extend his excursion somewhat beyond its
-walls.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">One of the first operations in a man's toilet--I say it for the
-benefit of ladies, who cannot be supposed to know the mysteries
-thereof--is to shave himself; and an exceedingly disagreeable
-operation it is. I know not by what barbarous crotchet it has happened
-that men have tried to render their faces effeminate, by taking off an
-ornament and a distinction with which nature decorated them; but so it
-is, that men every morning doom themselves to a quarter of an hour's
-torture, for the express purpose of making their chins look smug,
-and as unlike the grown man of God's creation as possible. Dudley's
-beard was thick and black, and required a good deal of shaving. He
-therefore opened a very handsome dressing-case--it was one which had
-been a gift to him in his days of prosperity; and taking out a
-small finely-polished mirror, he fastened it--for the sake of
-more light than he could obtain at the looking-glass on the
-toilet-table--against the left-hand window of the room; then with a
-little Naples soap, brought by himself from the city of the syren, a
-soft badger's-hair brush and cold water--for he did not choose to ring
-the servants up at that early hour of the morning--he set to work upon
-as handsome a face as probably had ever been seen. The brush and the
-soap both being good, he produced a strong lather, notwithstanding the
-cold water; and turning to put down the brush and take up the razor,
-which he had laid down on a little table in the window, his eyes
-naturally fell upon that part of the park grounds beneath him, where
-the avenue terminated close to the house. As they did so, they rested
-upon a human figure passing rapidly from the mansion to the shade of
-the beech trees; and Dudley instantly recognised Edgar Adelon, the son
-of his host. There was nothing very extraordinary in the sight; but
-Dudley was a meditative man by habit, and while he reaped the sturdy
-harvest of his chin, he went on thinking of Edgar Adelon, his
-appearance, his character, his conversation; and then his mind turned
-from the youth to another subject, near which it had been fluttering a
-great deal both that morning and the night before, and settled upon
-Eda Brandon. Whatever was the course of his meditations, it produced a
-sigh, which is sometimes like a barrier across a dangerous road,
-giving warning not to proceed any further in that direction.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He then gazed out of the window again, and following with his eyes the
-course of the avenue, he once more caught sight of the young
-gentleman, he had just seen, hurrying on as fast as he could go. He
-had no gun with him, no dogs; and a slight degree of curiosity was
-excited in the tutor's mind, which he would have laughed at had it
-been anything but very slight. Shortly after, he lost sight of the
-figure, which, as it seemed to him, entered the thicket on the right
-hand of the avenue; and Dudley thought to himself, &quot;Poor youth! he
-seemed, last night, though brilliant and imaginative enough at times,
-sadly absent, and even sad at others. He is gone, perhaps, to meditate
-over his love; ay, he knows not how many more pangs may be in store
-for him, or what may be the dark turn of fate near at hand. I was once
-as prosperous and as fair-fortuned as himself, and now--&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He would not go on, for it was a part of his philosophy--and it was a
-high-minded one--never to repine. As he passed to and fro, however, in
-the room, he looked from time to time out of the window again; and
-just as he was putting on his coat, he suddenly saw a figure emerge
-from the thicket where it approached closest to the park wall, beheld
-it climb easily over the boundary, as if by a stile or ladder, and
-disappear. At that distance, he could not distinguish whether the
-person he saw was Edgar Adelon or not; but he thought the whole
-man[oe]uvre strange, and was meditating over it, with his face turned
-to the window, when he heard a knock at his door, and saying, &quot;Come
-in,&quot; was visited by the Reverend Mr. Filmer.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The priest advanced with a calm, gentlemanly smile and quiet step,
-saying, &quot;I heard you moving in your room, Mr. Dudley, which adjoins
-mine, and came in to wish you good morning, and to say that if I can
-be of any service in pointing out to you the objects of interest in
-this neighbourhood, of which there are several, I shall be most happy.
-Also in my room I have a very good, though not very extensive,
-collection of books, some of great rarity; and though I suppose we are
-priests of different churches, you are too much a man of the world, I
-am sure, to suffer that circumstance to cause any estrangement between
-us.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It could cause none, my dear sir,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;even if your
-supposition were correct; but I am not an ecclesiastic, and I can
-assure you I view your church with anything but feelings of bigotry;
-and, indeed, regret much that the somewhat too strict definitions of
-the Council of Trent have placed a barrier between the two churches
-which cannot be overleaped.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Strict definitions are very bad things,&quot; said the priest; &quot;they are
-even contrary to the order of nature. In it there are no harsh lines
-of division, but every class of beings in existence, all objects, all
-tones, glide gradually into each other, softened off, as if to show us
-that there is no harshness in God's own works. It is man makes
-divisions, and bars himself out from his fellow men.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley did not dislike the illustration of his new acquaintance's
-views; but he remarked that he did not touch upon any definite point,
-but kept to generals; and having no inclination himself for religious
-discussions, he thanked Mr. Filmer again for his kindness, and asked
-him if there were any objects of particular interest within the limits
-of a walk before breakfast.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;One which for me has much interest,&quot; replied the priest: &quot;the ruins
-of a priory, and of the church once attached to it, which lie just
-beyond the park walls. I am ready to be your conductor this moment, if
-you please.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley expressed his willingness to go; Mr. Filmer got his hat, and in
-a few minutes they issued forth into the fresh air.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Taking their way to the right, they left the avenue of trees upon the
-other hand; and, by a well-worn path over the grassy slopes of the
-park, they soon reached the wall, over which they passed by a stone
-style, and then descended a few hundred yards into a little wooded
-dell, with a very bright but narrow stream running through it. A
-well-trimmed path, through the copse brought them, at the end of five
-minutes more to an open space bosomed in the wood, where stood the
-ruin. It was a fine specimen, though much decayed, of that style of
-architecture which is called Norman; a number of round arches, and
-deep, exquisitely chiselled mouldings, were still in good
-preservation; and pausing from time to time to look and admire, Dudley
-was led on by his companion to what had been the principal door of the
-church, the tympanum over which was quite perfect. It was highly
-enriched with rude figures; and the tutor gazed at it for some time in
-silence, trying to make out what the different personages represented
-could be about. Mr. Filmer suffered him, with a slight smile, to
-contemplate it uninterruptedly for some time; but at length he said,
-&quot;It is a very curious piece of sculpture that. If you remark, on the
-right-hand side there is represented a hunt, with the deer flying
-before the hounds, and a number of armed men on horseback following.
-Then in the next compartment you see dogs and men again, and a man
-lying transfixed by a javelin.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But the third is quite a different subject,&quot; said Dudley: &quot;a woman,
-seemingly singing and playing on a harp, with a number of cherubim
-round her, and an angel holding a phial; and the fourth compartment is
-different also, showing two principal figures embracing in the midst
-of several others, apparently mere spectators.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is, nevertheless, all one story,&quot; said the priest; &quot;and is, in
-fact, the history of the foundation of this church and priory, though
-connected with a curious legend attached to three families in this
-neighbourhood, of each of which you know something. I will tell it to
-you as we return; but first let us go round to the other side, where
-there is a fragment of a very beautiful window.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley was not content without exploring the whole of the ruin; but
-when that was done they turned back towards the park again, and Mr.
-Filmer began his tale:--</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Nearly where the existing house stands,&quot; he said, &quot;stood formerly
-Brandon Castle, the lord of which, it would appear, was a rash,
-impetuous man, given much to those rude sports which, in the intervals
-of war, were the chief occupations of our old nobility. In the
-neighbourhood there was a family of knightly rank, of the name of
-Clive, the head of which, in the wars of Stephen and Matilda, had
-saved the life of the neighbouring baron, and became his dearest,
-though comparatively humble friend. The lord of Brandon, though not
-altogether what may be called an irreligious man, was notorious for
-scoffing at the church and somewhat maltreating ecclesiastics. He had
-conceived a passion for a lady named Eda Adelon, the heiress of some
-large estates at the distance of about thirty miles from this place,
-and had obtained a promise of her hand; but upon one occasion, he gave
-her so great offence in regard to an abbey which she had aided
-principally in founding, that she refused to ratify the engagement,
-and entered into the sisterhood herself, telling him that the time
-would come when he, too, would found monasteries, and perhaps have
-recourse to her prayers. Five or six years passed afterwards, and the
-baron himself, always irascible and vehement, became more so from the
-disappointment he had undergone. The only person who seemed to have
-any power over him, and that was the power which a gentle mind
-sometimes exercises upon a violent one, was his companion, the young
-Sir William Clive. Hunting was, as I have said, his favourite
-amusement; and on one occasion he had pursued a stag for miles through
-the country, always baffled by the swiftness and cunning of the beast.
-He had thrown a number of javelins at it, always believing he was sure
-of his mark; but still the beast reappeared unwounded, till at length
-it took its way down the very glen where Brandon Priory stands, and
-then entered the thicket, just as the baron was close upon its track.
-Fearing to lose it again, he threw another spear with angry vehemence,
-exclaiming, with a fearful oath, 'I will kill something this time!' A
-faint cry immediately followed, and the next instant Sir William Clive
-staggered forth from the wood, transfixed by his friend's javelin, and
-fell, to all appearance dying, at the feet of the baron's horse. You
-have now the explanation of the first two compartments; I will proceed
-to give you that of the two others. The great lord was half frantic at
-the deed that he had done; the wounded man was taken up and carried to
-the castle; skilful leeches were sent for, but employed their art in
-vain; the young knight lay speechless, senseless, with no sign of life
-but an occasional deep-drawn breath and a slight fluttering of the
-heart. At length one of the chirurgeons, who was an ecclesiastic,
-ventured to say, 'I know no one who can save him, if it be not the
-Abbess Eda.' Now, Eda Adelon had by this time acquired the reputation
-of the highest sanctity, and she was even reported to have worked
-miracles in the cure of the sick and the infirm. Filled with anguish
-for his friend, and remorse for what he had done, the baron instantly
-mounted his horse, and rode, without drawing a rein, to the abbey,
-where he was admitted to the presence of the abbess, and casting
-himself upon his knees before her, told the tale of his misadventure.
-'Kneel to God, and not to me, Lord Brandon,' said the abbess; 'humble
-your heart, and pray to the Almighty. Perchance he will have
-compassion on you.'</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;'Pray for me,' said the baron; 'and if your prayers are successful,
-Eda, I vow by Our Lady and all the saints, to lead a new and altered
-life for the future, and to found a priory where my poor friend fell,
-and there twelve holy men shall day and night say masses in
-commemoration of the mercy shown to me.'</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;'I will pray for you,' replied the abbess; 'wait here awhile;
-perchance I may return with good tidings.'</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;While left alone the baron heard a strain of the most beautiful and
-solemn music, and the exquisite voice of the Abbess Eda singing an
-anthem; and at the end of about an hour she returned to him, carrying
-a phial of precious medicine, which she directed him to give to his
-friend as soon as he reached his castle. The legend goes that the
-phial had been brought down to her by an angel, in answer to her
-prayers; but certain it is, the moment the medicine was administered
-to the wounded man his recovery commenced, and he was soon quite
-restored to health. The baron did not forget his vow, but built the
-priory where you have seen the ruins; and in commemoration of the
-event caused the tympanum you have examined to be chiselled by a
-skilful mason. We find, moreover, that he bestowed the hand of his
-only sister upon the young Sir William Clive; and the malicious folks
-of the day did not scruple to affirm that the young lady had been
-walking in the wood with the gallant knight at the very moment when he
-received the wound.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The priest ended with a quiet smile, and Dudley replied with that sort
-of interest which an imaginative man always takes in a legend of this
-kind, &quot;I do not wonder that where there are such tales connected with
-a family, it clings to the old faith with which they are bound up, in
-spite of all the changes that go on around.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Alas! in this instance, my dear sir,&quot; replied the priest, &quot;such has
-not been the case. The Adelons and the Clives, it is true, have
-remained attached to the church; the Brandons have long abandoned her.
-Even this fair girl, Sir Arthur's niece, has been brought up in your
-religion;&quot; he paused a moment, and then added, with a sigh, &quot;and
-continues in it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley could not say that he was sorry to hear it; but he was spared
-the necessity of making any reply by the approach of another person,
-in whom he instantly recognised the father of the girl whom he had
-aided to rescue from extreme peril the evening before. &quot;Ah! Mr.
-Clive,&quot; he said, as the other drew near, &quot;I am very happy to see you;
-I should have come down during the morning to inquire after your
-daughter. I trust that she has not suffered much, and that you got a
-surgeon speedily.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;In about two hours, my lord,&quot; said Clive; &quot;country doctors are not
-always readily to be found; but the delay did no harm; the broken arm
-was set easily enough, and my poor girl is none the worse for what has
-happened, except inasmuch as she will have to go one-handed about the
-world for the next month or so.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You have mistaken me for the gentleman who was with me, Mr. Clive,&quot;
-said Dudley; &quot;he was Lord Hadley; I am a very humble individual,
-having neither rank nor honours.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The nobility of the heart, sir, and the honours which are given
-unasked to a high mind,&quot; replied Clive. &quot;I know not why, but both my
-daughter and myself fancied that you were the nobleman, and the other
-was a friend.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The very reverse,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;he is the nobleman, I am merely
-his tutor.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The old man mused for a minute or two very profoundly, and said at
-length, &quot;Well, I suppose it is all just and right in the sight of the
-great Distributor of all gifts and honours; but I beg your pardon,
-sir, for giving you a title that is not your due, which I know is a
-greater offence when it is too high than when it is too low. Against
-the one offence man is sheltered by his pride; to the other he is laid
-open by his vanity. Mr. Filmer, I should like to speak a word with
-you, if possible.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly,&quot; said the priest, &quot;certainly; if you will walk on, Mr.
-Dudley, for a very short way, I will talk to Mr. Clive, and overtake
-you immediately. I beg pardon for our scanty expedition; after
-breakfast, or in the evening, we will take a longer ramble.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley bowed and walked on, with very little expectation, to say the
-truth, of being rejoined by the priest before he reached the house;
-but he miscalculated, for five minutes had hardly passed when, with
-his peculiarly quiet step, rapid but silent, Mr. Filmer rejoined him.
-Dudley had clearly comprehended from the first that Mr. Filmer was a
-man likely to be deeply acquainted with the affairs of all the Roman
-Catholic families in the neighbourhood. There is one great
-inconvenience attending the profession of the Roman Catholic faith, in
-a country where the great bulk of the population is opposed to it. The
-nearest priest must be the depositary of the secrets of all; and it
-must depend upon the honesty with which they are kept, whether the
-private affairs of every family are, or are not, bruited about through
-the whole adjacent country. In lands where the population is
-principally papistical, such is not the case; for the numbers of the
-priesthood divide the secrets of the population, and it rarely happens
-that one man has enough to make it worth his while to talk of the
-concerns of the families with which he is connected, even were not his
-lips closed upon the weightier matters by the injunctions of the
-church. Dudley was somewhat curious to have an explanation of the
-circumstances in which he had found both Clive and his daughter on the
-preceding evening; but a feeling of delicacy made him forbear from
-putting any question to Mr. Filmer upon the subject, and as they
-walked on to the house he merely remarked, &quot;I suppose this gentleman
-whom we have lately seen is a descendant of the person mentioned in
-your legend?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;From father to son direct,&quot; replied the priest. &quot;It is but little
-known how much noble blood there is to be found amongst what is called
-the yeomanry of England. If the old Norman race were still considered
-worthy of respect, many a proud peer would stand unbonneted before the
-farmer. But Mr. Clive cultivates his own land, as was done in days of
-yore.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I should almost have imagined,&quot; said Dudley, with a laugh, &quot;from the
-spot and manner in which I found him last night, that he added other
-occupations, probably, if less noble, not less ancient.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Mr. Filmer turned and gazed at him with a look of some surprise, but
-he made no reply; and as they were by this time near the house the
-conversation dropped entirely.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER V.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">With a quick step Edgar Adelon pursued his way along the avenue,
-through the thicket, by the paths which he knew well, and over the
-wall of the park by the stones built into it to form a stile; but it
-was the eager beating of his heart which made his breath come fast and
-thick, and not the rapidity with which his young limbs moved. He knew
-not that he was observed by any one; and with that intensity of
-feeling which few are capable of, and which, perhaps, few for their
-own happiness should desire, his whole mind and thoughts were filled
-with one subject, so that he could give no heed to anything that
-passed around him. He walked on down a very narrow, shady lane, which
-led by a much shorter way than had been taken by the carriage of Lord
-Hadley the night before, to the house of Mr. Clive, and was entering a
-meadow upon the side of the hill, without observing that any one was
-near, when suddenly a voice called him by name, and turning he beheld
-the tall old man himself, and instantly advanced towards him and
-grasped his hand eagerly.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;How is Helen?&quot; he said--&quot;how is Miss Clive? Lord Hadley and Mr.
-Dudley told us of the accident last night, and I have been in a fever
-to hear more of her ever since. They said she was not much hurt; I
-hope it is so, but I must go down and see her.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The old man had gazed at him while he spoke with a fixed, steadfast
-look, full of interest, but in some degree sad. &quot;She is not much hurt,
-Edgar,&quot; he answered; &quot;her arm is broken, but that will soon be well.
-Otherwise she is uninjured. But, my dear boy, what are you doing? This
-cannot go on. You may go down to-day and see her, for you would not
-pain her, or injure her, I know; but you must tell your father that
-you have been. That I insist upon, or I do not let you go.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will, I will!&quot; answered Edgar Adelon; &quot;surely that will satisfy
-you. Injure her! I would not for the world; no, not for anything on
-earth.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, if your father knows it, Edgar, I have nought to say,&quot; rejoined
-the old man; &quot;and I will trust to your word that you do tell him. That
-which he does with his eyes open is his fault, not ours. All I say is,
-I will have no deceit.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You will hear from himself that I have told him,&quot; replied the young
-man, with a glowing cheek; &quot;but mark me, Clive, I do not always say
-when I go to your house any more than when I go to other places. If
-the occasion requires it I speak; but if not, I am silent.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Clive again looked at him steadfastly, as if he were about to add
-something more in a grave tone; but then suddenly laying his hand upon
-his shoulder he gave him a friendly shake, saying, &quot;Well, boy, well!&quot;
-and turned away and left him.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar Adelon pursued his course with a well-pleased smile and a light
-step. His conversation with Clive was a relief to him; it was
-something which he had long seen must come, which he had dreaded, and
-it was now over. Five minutes brought him in sight of the house
-towards which his steps were bent; and he paused for a moment, with
-joyful beating of the heart, to look at it, as it stood rising out of
-its trees upon the opposite side of the dell, as if it were perched
-upon the top of a high cliff overhanging the valley; though, in truth,
-beneath the covering of the wood was stretched a soft and easy
-descent, with manifold walks and paths leading to the margin of the
-little stream.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It is no unpleasant thing to pause and gaze into the sparkling wine of
-the cup of joy before we quaff it: and such was the act of Edgar
-Adelon at that moment, although his whole heart was full of those
-tremulous emotions which are only combined with the intense and
-thirsty expectation of youth. Then with a wild bound he darted down
-the road, crossed the little bridge, and ran up the opposite slope. He
-entered the yard of the building at once, and no dogs barked at him. A
-small terrier came and wagged his tail, and the great mastiff crept
-slowly out of his kennel, and stretched himself in the morning
-sunshine. Edgar Adelon must have been often there before. He walked
-into the house, too, without ceremony, and his question to the first
-woman-servant he met was, &quot;Where is Helen?&quot; but he corrected it
-instantly into &quot;Where is Miss Clive?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The woman smiled archly, and told him where she was; and a moment
-after, Edgar was seated beside her on a sofa in the little
-drawing-room which I have described. I do not know that it would be
-altogether fair or just to detail all that passed between them; but
-certainly Edgar's arm stole round the beautiful girl's waist, and he
-gazed into her dark eyes and saw the light of love in them. He made
-her tell him all that happened, that is to say, all that she chose to
-tell; for she refused to say how or why she was out watching upon the
-road at a late hour of the evening. He was of a trustful heart,
-however; and when she first answered, with a gay look, &quot;I went to meet
-a lover, to be sure, Edgar,&quot; he only laughed and kissed her cheek,
-saying, &quot;You cannot make me jealous, Helen.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is, I suppose, because you do not love me sufficiently,&quot; said
-Helen Clive.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, love,&quot; he replied, &quot;it is because I esteem you too much.&quot; And
-then he went on to make her tell him when the surgeon had arrived, and
-whether the setting of her arm had pained her much, and whether she
-was quite, quite sure that she was not otherwise hurt.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;My foot a little,&quot; replied his fair companion; &quot;it is somewhat
-swelled; don't you see, Edgar?&quot; And he knelt down to look, and kissed
-it with as much devotion as ever a pilgrim of his own faith kissed the
-slipper of the pope.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Then came the account of her deliverance from the perilous situation
-in which she had been found. &quot;Do you know,&quot; she said, &quot;if I had not
-been a great deal frightened and a little hurt, I could have laughed
-as I lay; for it was more ridiculous than anything else, to feel one's
-self half buried in that way, and not able to move in the least.
-Luckily it was the earth fell upon me first, and then the stones upon
-that, so that I could only move my arms; and when I tried to do that,
-it instantly set some of the stones rolling again, by which my poor
-arm was broken; so then I lay quite still, thinking some one must come
-by, sooner or later, till I heard a carriage coming up the hill, and
-saw by the light of the lamps two gentlemen walking fast before it. I
-called to them as loud as I could, and they both ran up. The one was
-kind enough, and was going to pull me out at once; but if he had done
-so, most likely he and I and his companion would have been all killed,
-or very much hurt. The other, however, stopped him, and kindly and
-wisely and gently, secured all the fragments of the wall that were
-still hanging over, so that he could get me out without danger; and
-then he lifted off the stones one by one, and he, and the servants,
-and the other gentleman removed the weight of the earth and lifted me
-up; and all the time he spoke so kindly to me, and comforted and
-cheered me, so that I shall always feel grateful to him till the last
-day of my life.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And so shall I, my sweet Helen,&quot; said Edgar Adelon, eagerly; &quot;but
-which was it, the dark one or the fair one?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! the dark one,&quot; replied Helen Clive; &quot;the tallest of the two. I
-think the post-boy told my father that it was Lord Hadley.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, no,&quot; said her lover; &quot;the fair one is Lord Hadley, the dark one
-is Mr. Dudley, his tutor, and I am glad of it; first, because I like
-him best, and secondly, because I am more likely with him to have an
-opportunity of showing my gratitude for what he has done for you, dear
-girl. If ever I have, I shall not forget it, Helen.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You must not, and you will not, I am sure, Edgar,&quot; answered Helen
-Clive. &quot;I think that men's characters and nature are often shown more
-by the manner in which they do a thing, than by the act itself; and
-though I felt grateful enough for deliverance, yet I will confess I
-felt more grateful still for the kind and gentle way in which he spoke
-to me, asked if I were much hurt, told me not to be frightened, that
-they would soon release me; and still, while he used the very best
-means of extricating me, kept talking cheerfully to me all the time.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;God bless him!&quot; said Edgar Adelon; &quot;I shall love that man, I am
-sure.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then, too,&quot; continued Helen, &quot;when they had put me in the carriage,
-and we had gone about half a mile over the down, I asked them to stop
-and let one of their servants go and tell my father what had happened
-to me; and the young light-haired one called to a servant he named
-'Müller,' to go; but the other said, 'No, no! I will go myself. The
-man might only frighten your father;' and he opened the carriage door
-and jumped out, as if he had a real pleasure in doing all he could do
-for a poor girl whom he had never seen before, and a man whom he had
-never seen at all.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is the true spirit of a gentleman,&quot; said Edgar; &quot;a better
-coronet, my Helen, than gilded leaves and crimson velvet can make. But
-now tell me more about yourself. When does the surgeon say your arm
-will be well, and when can you come out again to take a morning's
-walk?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I can walk quite well,&quot; answered Helen Clive; &quot;my foot and ancle are
-a little bruised, but that is all. As for my arm, it may be six weeks,
-or two months, Mr. Sukely says, before I can use it; so no more
-playing on the guitar, Edgar, for a long time.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, we must have patience,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon. &quot;It is pleasant,
-my Helen, to hear you make sweet music, as the poet calls it, and
-warble like a bird in spring; but yet I do not know that the best
-harmony to my ear is not to hear the spoken words of that dear tongue
-in the tones of love and confidence. But come, we will have our
-morning walk; the brightest hour of all my day is that between seven
-and eight.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will get my bonnet on and come,&quot; answered Helen; and she left the
-room for the purpose she mentioned.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar, in the meanwhile left alone, gazed for a moment or two at the
-pages of the book she had been reading, and was writing a lover's
-comment in the margin, when one of the doors of the room opened, and
-he started up, thinking that Helen had returned prepared. He was
-surprised, however, to see a tall, powerful, broad-shouldered man of
-about forty, well dressed, and having the appearance of a gentleman.
-His face, however, though intelligent, was not altogether pleasant in
-expression; the head was round, the forehead square-cut and massive,
-the jaw-bone large and angular, the eyes gray, but sharp and flashing,
-the eyebrows bushy and overhanging, and the grayish red hair cut
-short, and standing stiff and bristly, while enormous whiskers of the
-same hue almost concealed each cheek. The young gentleman, it is true,
-got but an imperfect view of him, for the intruder withdrew as soon as
-he saw that there was any one in the room, and closed the door. Edgar
-felt somewhat surprised and curious, for he had never before seen any
-one in Mr. Clive's house at that hour of the morning but himself, his
-servants and labouring men, and Helen; and with the rapid divination
-of thought, he at once connected the appearance of this stranger with
-the events of the night before. He had not much time for reflection
-before Helen Clive returned; but then he instantly told her what had
-occurred, and inquired who the visitor was.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ask no questions, Edgar,&quot; replied Helen, &quot;or put them to my father;
-but at all events, do not mention to any one else, I beseech you, that
-you have seen such a person here.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar mused, and walked out with her, perhaps in a more meditative
-mood than he had ever experienced in the society of Helen Clive
-before. It soon passed away, however; and they wandered on, side by
-side as usual, in conversation too deeply interesting to them to be
-very interesting to a reader of a work like this. But all bright
-things will come to an end, and that sweet hour, which perhaps they
-too often indulged in, terminated all too soon; and the impassioned
-boy took his way back to Brandon full of wild and glittering visions
-of love and happiness. He had somewhat outstayed his time; and when he
-reached the house, he found the whole party sitting down to breakfast.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, why, where have you been, Edgar?&quot; asked Sir Arthur; &quot;you have
-been an early wanderer.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! I often am,&quot; answered Edgar; but remembering his promise to Mr.
-Clive, he added, &quot;I have been down to Knight's-hyde Grange, to see
-poor Helen Clive after the accident of last night.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur Adelon seemed neither surprised nor displeased. &quot;How is
-she?&quot; he inquired. &quot;Not much hurt, I hope?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not much,&quot; replied Edgar, encouraged by his father's manner; &quot;the
-dear girl's arm is broken, and her foot a little bruised, but that is
-all.&quot; His cheek flushed a little as he ended, for he saw not only the
-deep blue eyes of his beautiful cousin fixed upon him, but those of
-the priest also.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur took no notice, however, but merely said, &quot;Did you see Mr.
-Clive, also?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I met him,&quot; replied the young man; &quot;he was coming up this way.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I must see him to-day, myself,&quot; said the baronet; &quot;and I suppose, in
-gallantry, I ought to go down and ask after your fair playfellow, too,
-Edgar;&quot; and turning towards Lord Hadley, he added, &quot;they were children
-together, and many a wild race have they had in the park, when my poor
-brother-in-law Brandon was alive. Clive and he were related; for there
-is no better blood in the country than that which flows in the veins
-of this same farmer-looking man whom you met last night.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Let us all go down and visit them, my dear uncle,&quot; said Eda Brandon.
-&quot;I have not seen Helen for a long time.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The party was agreed upon, and the breakfast proceeded; but to one at
-least there present, the cheerful morning meal seemed not a pleasant
-one. Mr. Dudley ate little, and said less; and yet there seemed to be
-no great cause for the sort of gloom that hung upon him. Everybody
-treated him with the utmost courtesy and kindness; he was seated next
-to Sir Arthur Adelon, between him and Mr. Filmer. Lord Hadley, in big
-good-humoured way, never seemed to look upon him as the tutor, but
-called him on more than one occasion, 'My friend Dudley;' and there
-was a warmth, mingled with reverence, in the manner of young Edgar
-Adelon, when he spoke to him, which must have been gratifying.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Could the cause of the sort of melancholy which affected him, be the
-fact that Lord Hadley was seated next to Eda Brandon, and that his
-eyes and his manner told he thought her very beautiful?</p>
-
-<p class="normal">However that might be, as soon as breakfast was over, and the party
-rose, Dudley retired at once to his room, and when he had closed the
-door, he stood for a moment with his hands clasped together, gazing on
-the floor. &quot;This is worse than vain,&quot; he said at length; &quot;this is
-folly; this is madness. Would to God I had not come hither; but I must
-crush it out, and suffer myself to be no longer the victim of
-visionary hopes, which have no foundation to rest upon, and feelings
-which can never be gratified, and which it is madness to indulge.&quot; He
-sat himself down to read, but his mind had lost its usual power, and
-he could not bend his thoughts to the task. Perhaps three quarters of
-an hour had passed, when some one knocked at his door, and Edgar
-Adelon came in.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They are all ready to go, Mr. Dudley,&quot; he said. &quot;Will you not come
-with us?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I think not,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;I am not in a very cheerful mood. This
-day is an anniversary of great misfortunes, Mr. Adelon, and it is not
-fair to cloud other people's cheerfulness with my grave face.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! cast away sad thoughts,&quot; said Edgar; &quot;if they are of the past,
-they are but shadows; if they are of the future, they are morning
-clouds.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Clouds that may be full of storms,&quot; replied Dudley, sadly.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Who can tell?&quot; cried the young man, enthusiastically; &quot;and if they
-be, how often do the rain-drops of adversity water the field, and
-advance the harvest of great future success. I have read it, I have
-heard of it, I am sure that it is true. Come, Mr. Dudley, come; for
-the man who gives himself up to sorrow makes a league with a fiend
-when there is an angel waiting for him. Hope is energy, energy is
-life, life is happiness if it is rightly used. We wound the bosom of
-the earth to produce fruits and flowers, and heaven sometimes furrows
-the heart with griefs to produce a rich crop of joys hereafter.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley grasped his hand warmly. &quot;Thanks, thanks, my young friend,&quot; he
-said; &quot;I will come. I certainly did not think to receive such bright
-lessons, and such wise ones, from one so young.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The philosophy of youth,&quot; answered Edgar, with a laugh, &quot;is, I
-believe, the best, for it is of God's implanting. It is an instinct to
-be happy; and where is the reason that is equal to instinct?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Nowhere,&quot; answered Dudley, taking his hat, with a smile; &quot;and I will
-follow mine.&quot;</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER VI.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">I will beg leave with the reader to precede the party which was just
-setting out from Brandon, and to give one more scene at the house of
-Mr. Clive, which took place shortly before their arrival.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">About a quarter of an hour after Edgar had turned his steps homeward,
-Mr. Clive entered the room where Helen was sitting, and placed himself
-in a chair opposite to her. But upon Helen's part there was nothing
-like a bashful consciousness; she had been accustomed to her lover's
-coming and going for years; their mutual affection had sprung up so
-gradually, or rather had developed itself so easily, that she could
-hardly mark the time when they had not loved; there had been none of
-those sudden changes which startle timid passion, and neither her
-father nor Sir Arthur Adelon had ever shown any of that apprehension,
-in regard to their frequent meeting, which might have created anxiety,
-if not fear, in her own breast. She therefore looked up frankly in her
-father's face, and said, &quot;Edgar has been here, my dear father, and
-unfortunately Mr. Norries opened the door and came in while he was in
-the room; but I am sure there is no cause for apprehension, for I
-begged Edgar not to speak of it to any one, and he gave me his word
-that he would not.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Mr. Clive cast down his eyes, and thought for several minutes without
-reply. But he then murmured some words, more to himself than to his
-daughter, saying:--&quot;That is bad; that is unfortunate: not that I doubt
-Edgar, my Helen; but I must speak with Norries about it; for he is
-somewhat rash, and he may show himself to others not so much to be
-trusted. That I do trust Edgar you may well judge, my dear child,
-otherwise he would not be so often here.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He spoke, gazing at his daughter with a look of some anxiety, and with
-the white eyebrows drawn far over the eyes. &quot;I know not that I am
-right, my Helen,&quot; he added; &quot;I almost begin to fear not. I feel I
-should only be doing right if I were to bid this youth make his visits
-fewer and shorter; and yet I would not pain him for a great deal, for
-he is kind, and good, and honest; but it must come to that in the end,
-Helen.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! no, my father, no,&quot; cried Helen Clive, imploringly. &quot;Why should
-you do that?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Listen to me, Helen,&quot; said her father; &quot;you have not thought of these
-things fully. He loves you, Helen.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I know it,&quot; cried Helen Clive, with the ingenuous blood mounting into
-her cheek; &quot;I know it, and I love him; but why should that prevent him
-from coming? Why should that deprive us of the very happiness which
-such love gives?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Because it cannot be happy, my Helen,&quot; answered her father; &quot;because
-he is a gentleman of high degree, and you the daughter of no better
-than a yeoman.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;My father,&quot; said Helen, rising, and laying the hand that was
-uninjured on her father's arm, &quot;have I not heard you say that the
-blood of the yeoman Clive is as pure as that of the noble house of
-Adelon, and perhaps of older strain? Is not the land you cultivate
-your own, as much or more than his that he farms to others? There is
-not that difference between us that should be reasonably any bar; but
-even suppose it were so, what could you seek by separating us?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Your own happiness, my child,&quot; answered Clive, gravely.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;By making us both miserable some years, months, or weeks, before we
-otherwise might be so,&quot; rejoined Helen, eagerly; &quot;that is all that can
-be done now. We love as much as we can love, and so long as we are
-doing nought that is wrong, violating no duty to you, nor to his
-father, surely we may enjoy the little portion of happiness that is
-sure, and leave to the future and God's good will the rest.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">She spoke eagerly, and with her colour heightened, her eye full of
-light, and her beautiful lips quivering in their vehemence; and Clive
-could not help feeling a portion of a father's pride rise up and take
-part with her. He could not but say to himself, as he gazed at her in
-her beauty, &quot;She is worthy to be the bride of the greatest lord in all
-the land.&quot;--&quot;Well, Helen, well,&quot; he said, using an expression which
-was habitual to him, &quot;I must trust you both; but remember, my child,
-in making over to you the care of your own happiness, I put mine under
-your guardianship also, for mine is wrapped up in yours. But hark!
-there is Norries pacing to and fro above. I must go and speak with
-him. That wild spirit will not brook its den much longer.&quot; And walking
-to the door, he mounted the stairs to the room which was just over
-that where he had been sitting.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! you are come back at last, Clive,&quot; said the strong, hard-featured
-man whom I have before described. &quot;Well, what have you heard? Were all
-those movements that alarmed you so much last night but mere idle
-rumour?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; answered Clive; &quot;but I find you were not the object. A party of
-smugglers was taken farther down the coast, and the intimation which
-the officer so mysteriously hinted to me they had received, referred
-to that affair.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;To be sure,&quot; replied his companion; &quot;they all think me in the United
-States. No one but yourself has ever known that I was in France the
-while.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I can't help thinking, my good friend,&quot; replied Clive, &quot;that it might
-have been better for you to have stayed there. You know you are in
-jeopardy here, and may be recognised at any moment.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, well, Clive!&quot; answered his companion, &quot;I will not jeopardise
-you long; it is my intention to go on this very night, so do not be
-alarmed. I thank you much for what you have done, which is as much or
-more than I could expect, and am only sorry that poor Helen has been
-injured in my cause.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Clive looked at him steadfastly for a moment or two, with his usual
-calm, steady, grave expression of countenance, and then replied, with
-a faint smile, &quot;It is curious, Norries, how, whenever men are blamed
-by their best friends for a foolish action when it is committed, or
-warned against a rash action which they are determined to commit, they
-always affect to believe that there is some personal feeling actuating
-their counsellor, and persuade themselves that his advice is not good,
-not by trying it on the principles of reason, but by their own
-prejudices. I have no personal fears in the matter; I anticipate no
-danger to myself or to my family; neither should you think so. Last
-night I was ready to have shed my blood to insure your safety, which I
-certainly should not have been likely to do if I were a man full of
-the cold calculations you suppose----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, well, well, Clive!&quot; said Norries, interrupting him, &quot;I was
-wrong, I was wrong: think of it no more; but one meets so much cold
-calculation in this life, that one's heart gets chilled to one's best
-friends. My coming might, indeed, as you say, be what the world would
-call rash; but every attempt must be estimated by its object, and till
-you know mine, do not judge me hastily. Where I was wrong, was in not
-giving you sufficient intimation of my intention, that you might have
-prepared and let me know when I could land without risk; but the man I
-sent over to you was delayed one whole day for a passage, and that day
-made a great difference.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It did,&quot; answered Clive; &quot;for I had barely time to send my own two
-men away to a distance, and get others, in whom I could better trust,
-to help me. I had no means either of giving you warning that there was
-a great movement at Barhampton, and that the officers were evidently
-on the look-out for some one on the coast. You only said that you
-would land in the cove between nine and ten, and that I must show a
-light due east of the cove mouth to guide you, as there was no moon. I
-had nothing for it, therefore, but to make ready against attack, in
-order that you might get back to the boat if you were the person these
-men were looking for. But now, Norries, I am very anxious to hear what
-is your object, for it should be a great one to induce you to
-undertake such a risk.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is a great one,&quot; answered Norries, with his gray eyes flashing
-under his contracted brow: &quot;no less than the salvation of my country,
-Clive. In that last affair, the rash fools of the manufacturing
-districts hurried on, against all persuasion, before matters were half
-ripe, with the light spirit of the old Gauls: firm in the onset,
-daunted by the first cheek, and tame and crouching in defeat. Had they
-behaved like men, I would have remained with them to the last, to
-perish or to suffer; but there was no shame in abandoning men who
-abandoned their own cause at the very first frown of fortune. Now
-there is a brighter prospect before me and before England. There are
-sterner, calmer, more determined spirits, ready and willing to dig a
-mine beneath the gaudy fabric of corruption and tyranny, which has
-been built up by knavish statesmen in this land, and to spring the
-mine when it is dug. The boasted constitution of England, which
-protects and nurses a race of privileged tyrants, and refuses
-justice--ay, and almost food--to the great mass of the people, is like
-one of the feudal castles of the old barons of the land, built high
-and strong, to protect them in their aggressions upon their
-neighbours, and in their despotic rule over their serfs. But there
-have been times in this and other lands when the serfs, driven to
-madness by unendurable tyranny, have, with the mattock and the axe of
-their daily toil, dug beneath the walls of the stronghold, and cast it
-in ruins to the ground. So will we, Clive; so will we!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Clive crossed his arms upon his chest, and gazed at him with a
-thoughtful and a melancholy look; and when he had done he shook his
-head sadly, as if his mind could take no part in the enthusiastic
-expectations of his companion.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why do you shake your head, Clive?&quot; demanded Norries, impatiently.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Because I have lived long enough, my good friend,&quot; replied Clive, &quot;to
-see some hundreds of these schemes devised, perfected, executed, and
-every one has brought ruin upon the authors, and worked no
-amelioration in the institutions of the land.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Simply because men are tame under injuries; simply because they
-submit to injustice; simply because, out of every ten men in the land,
-there is not one who has a just notion of the dignity of man's nature,
-or a just appreciation of man's rights,&quot; was the eager reply of
-Norries. &quot;But their eyes have been opened, Clive; the burden is
-becoming intolerable; the very efforts that have been made, and the
-struggles that have been frustrated, have taught our fellow countrymen
-that there is something to struggle for, some great object for
-endeavour. They have asked themselves, what? and we have taught them.
-One success, only one great success, and the enormous multitude of
-those who are justly discontented with the foul and corrupt system
-which has been established, but who have been daunted by repeated
-failures, will rise as one man, and claim that which is due to the
-whole human race, sweeping away all obstacles with the might and the
-majesty of a torrent. You, Clive, you, I am sure, are not insensible
-to the wrongs which we all suffer.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am neither unaware that there are many evils tolerated by law, nor
-many iniquities sanctioned by law,&quot; replied Clive, &quot;nor insensible to
-the necessity of their removal; but at the same time, I am fully
-convinced that there is a way by which they can be removed--and that
-the only way in which they ever will be removed--without violence or
-bloodshed, or the many horrors and disasters which must always
-accompany anything like popular insurrection. When the people of
-England think fit to make their voice heard--I mean the great mass of
-the people--that voice is strong enough to sweep away, slowly but
-surely, every one of the wrongs of which we have cause to complain.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But how can it make itself heard, that voice of the people of
-England?&quot; demanded Norries; &quot;where can it make itself heard? The
-people of England--the many, the multitude, the strength of the land,
-the labouring poor--have no voice in the senate, at the bar, on the
-bench. The church of the majority is the rich man's church, the law of
-the land is the rich man's law, the parliament of the country is the
-rich man's parliament. But it is vain talking with you of such things
-now; but come and hear us for one single night--hear our arguments,
-hear our resolutions, and you will not hesitate to join us.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; replied Clive, in a firm tone, &quot;I will not, Norries; I would
-rather trust myself to calm deliberate thought than to exciting
-oratory or smooth persuasions. In fact, Norries, as you well know, and
-as I have known long, I am of too eager and impetuous a nature, too
-easily moved, to place myself willingly in temptation. When I argue
-tranquilly with myself, I am master of myself; but when I go and
-listen to others, the strong passions of my young nature rise up. I
-keep myself free from all brawls; I enter into disputes with no man,
-for in my past life the blow of anger has too frequently preceded the
-word of remonstrance, and I have more than once felt occasion to be
-ashamed of myself as an impetuous fool, even where I have not had to
-reproach myself as an unjust aggressor.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You have had enough to bear, Clive,&quot; replied Norries; &quot;as I know from
-my poor lost Mary, your dear sister--'the oppressor's wrong, the proud
-man's contumely, the insolence of office, and the spurns that patient
-merit of the unworthy takes.' With the old Saxon blood strong in your
-veins, the old Saxon freedom powerful in your heart, have not you and
-yours, from generation to generation, been subject to the
-predominating influence of the Norman usurpers, and are you not still
-under their sway? But hark! there are people at the door, and many of
-them. Perhaps they have come to seek me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Clive strode hastily to the window, and looked out, but then turned
-round, saying, &quot;No, it is the people from Brandon House--Sir Arthur
-Adelon and all the rest--come down, I dare say, to inquire after
-Helen, for they are very fond of her, as well they may be.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Sir Arthur Adelon!&quot; repeated Norries, with a slight smile, &quot;that is
-well; let me look at him;&quot; and he too approached the window. &quot;He is
-much changed,&quot; he continued, as he gazed out, &quot;and perhaps as much
-changed in mind as in person--but yet I must have him with us, Clive.
-He must give us his support, for it is necessary to have some gilding
-and some tinsel even on the flag of liberty.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Clive laughed aloud. &quot;You mistake, you mistake, Norries,&quot; he said; &quot;if
-you calculate thus rashly, your schemes are vain indeed. Sir Arthur
-Adelon is a mere man of the world; kind and good-humoured enough, but
-with no energy or resolution such as are absolutely necessary in those
-who join in great undertakings.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is you who mistake, Clive,&quot; replied Norries; &quot;you see but the
-exterior. Underneath it there are strong things mingled with weak
-ones--passions powerful enough and persevering; and you shall see that
-man, with his high station, wealth, and name, shall go with me in that
-which I undertake, and shall prove a shelter and defence in case of
-need, should anything discover a portion of our schemes before they
-are matured. I must see him this very day before I go to Barhampton,
-for thither I shall certainly proceed to-night.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, Norries, well, you know best,&quot; answered Clive, with a faint
-smile; &quot;when I see these wonders, I may have more confidence. Till
-then, I tell you fairly, all your plans seem to me to be rashness
-approaching to madness. I must go down and receive them, however, for
-I hear they have come in. Shall I tell Sir Arthur that you wish to see
-him, Norries?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; answered the other, thoughtfully; &quot;I will take my own
-opportunity.&quot; And Clive departed, leaving him alone.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER VII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">I know no more delightful sensation upon earth, than when a being whom
-we love, acting beneath our eyes, but unconscious that we are
-watching, fulfils to the utmost the bright expectations that we have
-formed; while in the deed, and the tone, and the manner we see the
-confirmation of all that we had supposed, or dreamed, or divined of
-excellence in heart and mind. Charles Dudley loved Eda Brandon, and
-all she did or said was of course a matter of deep interest to him;
-and although I will not say he watched, yet he observed her conduct
-during the morning of which I have been writing, and especially during
-their visit to the Grange, as Mr. Clive's house was called. He thought
-it was perfect; and so perhaps it was, as nearly as anything of the
-earth can be perfect; and perhaps, although there was no great event
-to call strong feelings into action, although there was nothing which
-would seem to an ordinary eye a trial of character or demeanour, yet
-there was much which, to a very keen and sensitive mind, showed great
-qualities by small traits. Helen Clive was in an inferior position of
-life to Eda Brandon. It may be said that the difference was very
-slight: that her father cultivated his own land; that she had
-evidently received the education and possessed the manners of a lady;
-but yet the very slightness of the difference might make the demeanour
-of the one towards the other more difficult--not, perhaps, to be what
-the world would call very proper, but to be perfect. It might be too
-cold, it might be too familiar; for there is sometimes such a thing as
-familiarity which has its rise in pride, and the object of it is more
-likely to feel hurt by it than even by distance of manner. But there
-was nothing of the kind in the conduct of Eda Brandon. She treated
-Helen in every respect as an equal: one with whom she had been long on
-terms of intimate affection, and who required no new proof that she
-saw no difference between the position of Mr. Clive's daughter and
-that of the heiress of Brandon and all its wealth. There was no
-haughtiness; there was no appearance of condescension: the haughtiest
-mark of pride. It was easy, kind, unaffected, but quiet and ladylike;
-and although Helen herself felt a little nervous, not at the station,
-but at the number of the guests who poured in, Eda's manner soon put
-her completely at ease, and the only thing which seemed at all to
-discompose her, was a certain sort of familiar gallantry in the
-manners of Lord Hadley, which even pained another present more than
-herself.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">But it is with Eda and Dudley that I wish particularly to deal just
-now; and one thing I may remark as seemingly strange, but not really
-so. It was with delight, as I have said, that Dudley observed the
-demeanour of Eda Brandon towards Helen Clive; but a saddening
-sensation of despondency mingled with the pleasure, and rendered it
-something more than melancholy. It was like that of a dying parent
-witnessing the success and growing greatness of a beloved child, and
-knowing that his own eyes must soon close upon the loved one's career
-of glory. He said to himself, &quot;She never can be mine: long years of
-labour and toil, struggles with a hard and difficult profession, and
-fortunate chances with many long lapses between, could alone put me in
-a position to seek her love or ask her hand; and in the mean time her
-fate must be decided.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As they had walked down from the house, Lord Hadley had been
-continually by her side. He had evidently been much struck and
-captivated. A vague hint had been thrown out that a union between
-himself and the heiress of Brandon had been contemplated by kind and
-judicious friends; and a meaning smile which had crossed the lip of
-young Edgar Adelon, when he saw Lord Hadley bending down and saying
-something apparently very tender in his cousin's ear, had sent a pang
-through the heart of Dudley, which his young companion would not have
-inflicted for worlds had he known the circumstances. Again and again
-Dudley repeated to himself, &quot;It is impossible. How can I--why should I
-entertain any expectation? The warrior goes into the strife armed; the
-racer is trained and prepared for the course: I have no weapons for
-the struggle, no preparation for the race, although the prize is all
-that is desirable in life. I will yield this all-vain contention; I
-will withdraw from a scene where everything which takes place must
-give me pain. It is easily done. The term of my engagement with Lord
-Hadley is nearly at an end; and I can easily plead business of
-importance for leaving him here, now that our tour is finished, and
-once more betaking myself to my books, wait in patience till the time
-comes for that active life in the hard world of realities, which will,
-I trust, engross every feeling, and occupy every thought.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Such were his reflections and resolutions as the party, after taking
-leave of Helen and Mr. Clive, walked out of the door of the Grange to
-return to Brandon House. I often think that all reflections are vain,
-and all resolutions worse than vain. The first are but as the games of
-childhood--the construction of gay fabrics out of materials which have
-no solidity; the second are but shuttlecocks between the battledoors
-of circumstances. So, at least, Charles Dudley found them both.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It is necessary, however, before I proceed farther, to say something
-of the exact position of the parties as they quitted the house. Eda
-and her uncle went first; Dudley followed half a step farther back;
-and Lord Hadley and Edgar came next. As Dudley was walking on, with
-his eyes bent on the ground, he heard the voice of Sir Arthur's son
-exclaim, &quot;Eda, Eda, we are going down by the stream, Lord Hadley and
-I, to see the ruins of the priory. Let us all go.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, dear Edgar,&quot; answered Miss Brandon, &quot;I can't indulge your
-wandering propensities to-day. I shall be tired by the time I get
-home, and have got a letter to write.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I can't go either, Edgar,&quot; said his father; &quot;for I have a good deal
-of business to do.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, Mr. Dudley, at all events you will come,&quot; said Edgar Adelon;
-but Mr. Dudley replied by informing him that he had passed some time
-at the priory already that morning.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, come along, Lord Hadley, then,&quot; said Edgar, in a gay tone; &quot;I
-never saw such uninteresting people in my life, and you shall have the
-treat and the benefit of my conversation all to yourself. I will tell
-you the legend, too, and show you what a set of people these Brandons
-have been from generation to generation.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Lord Hadley did not decline, and they walked away together down the
-course of the stream, whilst Sir Arthur and his niece, accompanied by
-Dudley, pursued their course towards Brandon. They were about halfway
-between the Grange and the gates of the park, when a quick but heavy
-step was heard behind them, and Dudley, turning his head, saw a stout
-farm-servant following, somewhat out of breath. The man walked
-straight up to Sir Arthur Adelon, and presented a note, saying, &quot;I was
-to give you that directly, your honour.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur took the note, and looked at the address without any
-apparent emotion; but when he opened it, his aspect changed
-considerably, and he stopped, saying, in a hesitating manner, &quot;I must
-go back--I must go back.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! it is but a short distance,&quot; said Eda; &quot;we can return with you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, my dear, no,&quot; answered her uncle, with what seemed a good deal of
-embarrassment in his air; &quot;you had better go on to Brandon. Mr. Dudley
-will, I am sure, escort you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Assuredly,&quot; replied Dudley, gravely; and Sir Arthur adding, &quot;I may
-not, perhaps, be back to luncheon, Eda, but do not wait for me,&quot;
-turned, and with a quick step hurried along the road towards Mr.
-Clive's house.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It seemed as if everything had combined to leave Charles Dudley and
-Eda Brandon alone together. If he had laboured a couple of years for
-such a consummation it would not have occurred. He did not offer Eda
-his arm, however; and although his heart was beating very fast with
-feelings that longed for utterance, he walked on for at least a
-hundred and fifty yards, without a word being spoken on either side.
-Ladies, however, feel the awkwardness of silence more than men; and
-Eda, though she was shaking very unaccountably, said at length, &quot;I am
-afraid, Mr. Dudley, that what you find here is not so beautiful and
-interesting as the scenes you have lately come from. You used, I
-remember, to be a very enthusiastic admirer of the beauties of
-nature.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley raised his fine eyes to her face, and gazed at her for a moment
-with melancholy gravity. &quot;All I admired then,&quot; he said at length, &quot;I
-admire now. All I loved then, dear Miss Brandon, I love now. It is
-circumstances which have changed, not I.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I did not know that circumstances had changed,&quot; said Eda, in a low
-and sweet tone, as if she really felt sympathy with him for the grief
-his manner implied. &quot;I had heard that a sad, a terrible change of
-circumstances had occurred some time before; but I was not at all
-aware that any new cause of grief or disappointment had been added.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley again thought before he answered; but it was not the thought of
-calculation, or if it was, it was but the calculation of how he should
-answer calmly; how he should speak the true feelings of his heart with
-moderation and gentleness: not at all a calculation of whether it were
-better to speak those feelings or not.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You are right, Miss Brandon,&quot; he said, &quot;the change of circumstances
-had taken place before; but all things have their consequences; and
-the results of those material alterations in fortune and station
-which had befallen me, were still to be made manifest to, and worked
-out by, myself. When first we met, you were very young--not sixteen, I
-think--and I was not old. Everything was in the spring-day with me. It
-was all full of promise. I had in those days two fortunes: worldly
-wealth, and even a greater store of happy hopes and expectations--the
-bright and luxuriant patrimony of inexperienced youth. From time to
-time we saw each other; till, when last we met, prosperity had been
-taken from me, the treasure of earthly riches was gone, and though not
-actually beggared, I and my poor father were in a state of absolute
-poverty. Still the other fortune, that rich estate of youthful hope
-and inexperienced expectation, though somewhat diminished, was not
-altogether gone. I fancied that, in the eyes of the noble and the
-good, wealth would make no difference. I had never found it make any
-difference to me in my estimation of others. I imagined that those
-qualities which some had esteemed and liked in me, would still at
-least retain my friends. I never for an instant dreamed that it could
-or ought to have an influence on the adamant of love. I had almost
-said and done rash things in those days; but you went away out of
-London, and I soon began to perceive that I had bitterly deceived
-myself.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You never perceived any difference in me,&quot; cried Eda, her voice
-trembling with emotions which carried away all discretion. &quot;You do not
-mean to say, Mr. Dudley, that you saw, or that you thought you saw,
-such base weakness in my nature as would render of the slightest value
-in my eyes a change of fortune in those I--I----&quot; And extending her
-left hand, as if to cast the idea from her, she turned away, and shook
-her head sorrowfully, with her eyes full of tears.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, no, Miss Brandon!&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;no, no, Eda! I said not so.
-It was the world taught me the world's views. Nay, more, I laid the
-blame of misunderstanding those views upon myself, not others. I saw
-some reason even in those views which debarred me from happiness; I
-felt the due value of station and fortune when I had lost them, which
-I never felt while they were my own. But listen to me still with
-patience for one moment. Expectation was not yet fully tamed. I said
-to myself, I will make myself a station, I will regain the fortune
-which has been lost; and then, perhaps, love may re-illumine the torch
-of hope at its own flame, and all be light once more.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Love!&quot; murmured Eda, in a low tone, as he paused for an instant; but
-Dudley went on:--</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The hardest lesson of all was still to learn: how slow, how
-hopelessly slow, is man's progress up the steep hill which leads to
-fame and emolument in this world: how vain is the effort to start into
-eminence at once! I had to learn all that consuming thought, and
-bitter care, and deep disappointment, and hopeless love, and the
-anguish of regret, can do to wear the strongest frame, and wring the
-firmest heart, and quell the brightest expectations, and batten down
-the springs of life and hope beneath the heavy load of circumstances.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! Dudley, Dudley,&quot; cried Eda, &quot;why, why should you yield to such
-dark impressions?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Eda,&quot; said Dudley, &quot;would you have had me hope?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, yes,&quot; she answered, with her cheek glowing and her eyes full of
-tears, as they passed the park gates and entered the avenue. &quot;Hope
-ever! ever hope! and let not adverse circumstances crush a noble
-spirit and a generous heart. See, there is Mr. Filmer coming down
-towards us; I must wipe these foolish tears from my eyes. But let me
-add one warning. I have said a generous heart, because, indeed, I
-believe yours to be so; but yet, Dudley, it was hardly generous enough
-when you imagined that those whom you judged worthy of love and esteem
-could suffer one consideration of altered fortunes to make even the
-slightest change in their regard or in their conduct. You should never
-have fancied it, and must never, never fancy it again. I can hardly
-imagine,&quot; she said, turning, and looking at him with a bright smile,
-as she uttered words of reproach which she knew were not quite
-justified, thus qualifying with that gay look the bitter portion of
-her speech: &quot;I can hardly imagine that you know what true love is, or
-you would be well aware that it is, indeed, as you said yourself, a
-thing of adamant: unchangeable and everlasting. On it no calumny can
-rest, no falsehood make impression; the storms and tempests of the
-world, the labour of those who would injure or defame, the sharp
-chisel of sarcasm, the grinding power of argument and opposition, can
-have no effect. Such is strong, true love. It must be love founded on
-esteem and confidence, but then, believe me, it is immoveable. If ever
-you love, remember this.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;If ever I love, Eda?&quot; answered Dudley, gazing at her; &quot;you know too
-well that I do love; that I have loved for years.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I once thought so,&quot; replied Eda, in a low tone; &quot;but hush! Dudley,
-hush! let us compose ourselves: he is coming near.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He does not see us,&quot; said Dudley; &quot;his eyes are bent upon the ground.
-Can we not avoid him by turning through the trees?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, no,&quot; answered Miss Brandon; &quot;he sees everything. Never suppose at
-any time that because his eyes are bent down they are unused. He is
-all sight, and never to be trusted. Is my cheek flushed? I am sure it
-ought to be,&quot; she added, as her mind reverted to the words she had
-spoken: &quot;I am sure it ought to be, for I feel it burn.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;A little,&quot; replied Dudley, gazing at her with a look of grateful
-love; &quot;but he will not remark it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! yes, he will,&quot; answered Eda, giving a timid glance towards
-Dudley's face, and then drawing down her veil. &quot;Yours is quite pale.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is with intense emotions,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;emotions of gratitude
-and love.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Hush! hush!&quot; she said; &quot;no more on that score; we shall be able to
-talk more hereafter. What a beautiful day it has been after such a
-stormy night. One could almost fancy that it was spring returned, if a
-bird would but begin to sing.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! no,&quot; answered Dudley, somewhat sorrowfully; &quot;though there be
-browns in both, the colours of the autumn are very different from
-those of the spring; the hues of nascent hope are in the one, of
-withering decay in the other; and though the skies of autumn may be
-glorious, they are the skies of spring which are sweet.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">They were now within some twenty or thirty paces of Mr. Filmer, who
-was still walking on, calmly and quietly, with his eyes bent upon the
-ground, as if absorbed in deep and solemn meditation. The light and
-shadow, as he passed the trees, fell strangely upon him, giving a
-phantom-like appearance to his tall dark figure and pale face; and
-there was a fixed and rigid firmness in his whole countenance which
-might have made any casual observer at that moment think him the
-veriest ascetic that ever lived.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda, who knew him well, and had read his character more profoundly
-than he imagined, led the way straight up to him, though they had
-before been on the other side of the avenue, as if she were determined
-that he should not pass without taking notice of them, and when they
-were at not more than three yards' distance, he started, saying, &quot;Ah!
-my dear young lady, I did not see you. Why, your party has become
-small.&quot; And his face at once assumed a look of pleasing urbanity,
-which rendered the whole expression as different as possible from that
-which his countenance had borne before.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Edgar and Lord Hadley,&quot; answered Eda, &quot;have gone to see the priory,
-and my uncle was coming home with us, when somebody stopped him upon
-business and carried him off.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Dudley and I visited the priory this morning,&quot; replied Mr.
-Filmer; &quot;and he seemed exceedingly pleased with it, I am happy to
-say.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I was very much so, indeed,&quot; said Dudley. &quot;In truth, my reverend
-friend, I feel a great interest in all those remnants of former times,
-when everything had a freshness and a vigorous identity which is lost
-in the present state of civilisation. I forget who is the author who
-compares man in the present polished and artificial days to a worn
-shilling which has lost all trace of the original stamp; but it has
-often struck me as a very just simile. I like the mark of the die; and
-every object which recalls to my mind the lusty, active past, is worth
-a thousand modern constructions. Even the university in which I have
-been educated I love not so much for its associations with myself as
-for its associations with another epoch. There is a cloistral,
-secluded calm about some of the colleges, which has an effect almost
-melancholy and yet pleasurable.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Mr. Filmer replied in an easy strain, as if he had remarked nothing;
-but, nevertheless, he had perceived, somehow, without even raising his
-eyes, that Eda had dropped the veil over her face as he came near, and
-he saw that there were traces of agitation both on her countenance and
-on that of Dudley. He remarked, too, that Dudley spoke more and more
-eloquently upon many subjects during the rest of the day; that, in
-fact, there was a sort of relief apparent in his whole manner, and in
-all his words; and he formed a judgment not very far from the truth.
-Such a judgment, from indications so slight, is not unusual in men who
-have been educated as he had been, to mark the slightest peculiarities
-of manner, the slightest changes of demeanour, that occur in their
-fellow-men, in order to take advantage of them for their own purposes.
-In the present instance he continued quietly his observations, without
-letting any one perceive that he was watching at all; but not a word,
-nor a look, nor a tone of Eda Brandon and Charles Dudley escaped him
-during the day.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Turning back with Miss Brandon and her lover towards the house, Mr.
-Filmer, or Father Peter, as he was sometimes called by Sir Arthur's
-servants, accompanied them to the door, and then proposed that they
-should cross the park to a little fountain, covered with its old cross
-and stone, which he described as well worthy of Dudley's attention.
-Eda confirmed his account of its beauty, but said that she must
-herself go in, as she was a good deal fatigued, and had also to write
-a letter. She advised Dudley, however, to go and see it; and if the
-truth must be told, she was not sorry to avoid the priest's society,
-for in his presence she felt a restraint of which she could not divest
-herself, even at times when she could detect no watching on the part
-of Filmer. She knew that he was observing with the quiet, shrewd eyes
-of Rome, and the very feeling embarrassed her.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley had no excuse for staying behind, and he accompanied the priest
-on his walk, conversing on indifferent subjects, and not yet fully
-aware that every word and even look, was watched by one who let nought
-fall to the ground. For nearly a couple of hundred yards the two
-gentlemen walked on in silence; but then Mr. Filmer, in pursuit of his
-own investigations, observed, in a sort of meditative tone, &quot;What a
-sweet, charming girl that is! I think I understood that you had known
-her long, Mr. Dudley.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;For many years,&quot; replied his companion. &quot;When first I knew her she
-was quite a girl, I had almost said a child, and very lovely even
-then; but I had no idea that she was the niece of Sir Arthur Adelon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Her mother was his sister,&quot; replied Mr. Filmer; &quot;and the way in which
-she became Sir Arthur's ward was this:--Her father died when she was
-quite young, leaving her entirely to the control of her mother, as her
-sole guardian and his executrix. She was a very amiable woman, Mrs.
-Brandon, though, unfortunately, her husband had converted her to your
-church. I believe she was very sorry for her apostacy before her
-death, and, at all events, she left Miss Brandon to the guardianship
-of her brother, Sir Arthur, with the entire management of her
-property.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Till she comes of age, I suppose?&quot; Dudley replied, as the other made
-a short pause.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes; but before that time she will be probably married,&quot; answered the
-priest.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;To Lord Hadley, perhaps you think?&quot; rejoined Dudley, with very
-different feelings from those with which he would have pronounced such
-words some two or three hours before.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no!&quot; answered Mr. Filmer, calmly; &quot;I do not think that Sir Arthur
-would ever consent to her marriage with a Protestant. I know that he
-would sooner see her bestow her hand upon the humblest Catholic
-gentleman in England.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley was somewhat puzzled. If the assertion of the priest could be
-relied upon, why had Sir Arthur Adelon so ostentatiously asked Lord
-Hadley there. The priest said it in a natural, easy tone; but Dudley
-felt that in some degree he had himself been trying to extract
-information from Mr. Filmer, and that the attempt was somewhat
-dangerous with a Roman Catholic priest. He did not feel quite sure,
-indeed, that he had not betrayed a part of his own secrets while
-endeavouring to gain intelligence of the views of others. &quot;I should
-have thought that the feelings of Sir Arthur Adelon were more liberal,
-especially as he has always yourself beside him,&quot; said Dudley, with a
-slight inclination of the head.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You do me more than justice, my young friend,&quot; replied Mr. Filmer;
-&quot;it is very natural in these times, when there is a persecuting and
-oppressive spirit abroad, that we should wish to see an heiress of
-great wealth, and whose husband must possess great influence, bestow
-her hand upon a person of our own religious creed. I may say this can
-be felt without the slightest degree of bigotry, or any view of
-proselytism. I have none, I can assure you; and indeed you may judge
-that it is so when you know that one of my best friends and most
-constant companions is the clergyman of the little church the spire of
-which you see rising up there just above the hill. My feeling is that
-there is not sufficient difference between the two churches--although
-yours, I feel, is in some points a little heretical--to cause any
-disunion between honest and well-meaning men; and moreover, though
-anxious myself to see others adopt what I conceive to be just views,
-yet I confess the object of their conversion does not appear to me so
-great a one as to hazard the slightest chance of dissension in order
-to obtain it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Those are very liberal opinions, indeed,&quot; said Dudley; &quot;and though I
-know that a good many of the laymen of the church of Rome entertain
-them, I was not aware that they are common amongst the clergy.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;More common than you imagine, my young friend,&quot; answered the priest;
-&quot;in fact the heads of the church, itself are not so intolerant as you
-suppose. Rules have been fixed, undoubtedly; definitions have been
-given; but it is always in the power of the church to relax its own
-regulations; and when sincere and devout Christianity, a feeling of
-that which is orthodox, and a veneration for those traditions which,
-descending from generation to generation through the mouths of saints
-and martyrs, may be considered as pure and uncorrupt as the Scriptures
-themselves, are perceived in any one, the church is always willing to
-render his return to her bosom easy and practicable, by relinquishing
-all those formal points of discipline which may be obnoxious to his
-prejudices, and by relaxing the severity of those expositions, the
-cutting clearness of which is repugnant to a yet unconfirmed mind.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley paused in great surprise, asking himself, &quot;What is his object?&quot;
-This is a question which is rarely put by any man to his own heart
-without some strong doubt of the sincerity of the person he has been
-conversing with.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What is his object?&quot; thought Dudley. &quot;Does he really hope to convert
-me by the mingled charms of his own eloquence, and the fascination of
-my dear Eda's fortune?&quot; He resolved, however, not to display his real
-opinion of the arguments used, but to suffer the worthy priest to
-pursue his own course and expose his own purposes. &quot;He must do it
-sooner or later,&quot; he said; &quot;and then I shall discover what is the
-meaning of this long discourse. In the mean time, he cannot shake
-Eda's confidence in me, nor my love for her.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am happy to find,&quot; continued Dudley, aloud, &quot;that such very just
-and liberal views are entertained; for undoubtedly the definitions of
-the Council of Trent have been one of the great stumbling-blocks in
-the way of those persons who would willingly have abandoned doctrines
-of which they are by no means sure, to embrace others emanating from a
-church, the principal boast of which is its invariable consistency
-with itself.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The priest looked at him with a doubtful and hesitating glance. He was
-apprehensive, perhaps, of showing too much of the policy of the church
-of Rome; and he stopped, as it was his invariable custom to do when
-the expression of his opinions might do injury to the cause he
-advocated, and no great object was to be obtained. He thought, indeed,
-in the present instance, that something more might be ventured; but
-yet he judged it more prudent to wait awhile, calculating that if he
-managed well, growing passion might do the work of argument; and after
-viewing, with Dudley, the little fountain, he turned back to the
-house, directing his conversation to subjects of a totally different
-character, grave but not ascetic, round which he threw a peculiar and
-extraordinary charm. It was very strange the fascination of his manner
-and conversation. When first its power was felt by any keen and quick
-mind, one strove to grasp and analyze it, to ascertain in what it
-consisted; but like those subtle and delicate essences which chemists
-sometimes prepare, and which defy analysis, something, and that the
-most important, that which gave efficacy and vigour to the whole,
-always escaped. The words seemed nothing in themselves: a little
-subtle, perhaps, somewhat vague, not quite definite. The manner was
-calm and gentle, the look was only at wide distant moments emphatic;
-but yet there was a certain spirit in the whole which seemed to glide
-into the heart and brain, unnerving and full of languor, disarming
-opposition, persuading rather than convincing, wrapping the senses in
-pleasing dreams rather than presenting tangible objects for their
-exercise. It was like the faint odours of unseen plants, which,
-stealing through the night air, visit us with a narcotic rather than a
-balmy influence, and lull us to a deadly sleep, without our knowing
-whence they come or feeling the effect till it is too late.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER VIII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur Adelon, after leaving Eda and Dudley together, hurried back
-as fast as he could go to the house of Mr. Clive, passing by the way
-the man who had brought him the note, which he still held clasped
-firmly in his hand. He was evidently a good deal agitated when he set
-out; the muscles of his face worked, his brow contracted, and muttered
-sentences escaped his lips. From this state he seemed to fall into
-deep thought. The emotions probably were not less intense, but they
-were more profound; and when he came near the house he stopped and
-leaned for a moment against the gate, murmuring, &quot;What can it be?&quot;
-After a pause of a moment or two he rang the bell, and asked the maid
-who appeared, where the gentleman was who had sent him that letter.
-The woman seemed somewhat confused, said she did not know anybody had
-sent him a letter, but that Mr. Clive was in the drawing-room with his
-daughter. Her embarrassment, and that of the baronet, however, were
-removed, almost as she spoke the last words, by a voice calling down
-the stairs and saying, &quot;Sir Arthur Adelon, will you do me the honour
-of walking up hither?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The baronet instantly obeyed the invitation, but it was with a very
-pale face, and the next instant he was in the room with Norries. The
-latter had withdrawn into the chamber where his conference had taken
-place with Clive, and he fixed a steadfast gaze on the baronet as he
-entered; then turning towards the door, he closed it and waved his
-visitor to a seat, taking one himself at the same time, and still
-keeping his bright gray eyes fixed firmly upon the baronet's face.
-Hitherto not a word had been spoken, and Norries remained silent for
-some instants; but at length he said, &quot;I perceive, both by your coming
-and your demeanour, Sir Arthur Adelon, that you have not forgotten
-me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no! Mr. Norries,&quot; replied the baronet; &quot;I remember you quite
-well, and am happy to see you. But is it not somewhat dangerous for
-you to visit England just now?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not in the least, I think,&quot; said Norries. &quot;I am obliged to you for
-your solicitude, Sir Arthur. If it had shown itself materially twelve
-months ago, it might have kept me out of York Castle.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I really do not see how I could have served you,&quot; answered Sir Arthur
-Adelon; &quot;indeed, I never knew that you were in York Castle.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;For three days,&quot; replied Norries, laconically. &quot;But this is
-irrelevant; let me speak of more important affairs. As your memory is
-so good, you have probably not forgotten yet what took place eight and
-six years ago, in regard to transactions affecting Charles Dudley,
-Esquire, since dead.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, sir, well!&quot; cried Sir Arthur, &quot;what of that?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You inquired once,&quot; said Norries, &quot;for the correspondence respecting
-that affair; I think I could give you some information concerning it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Was it not burnt?&quot; exclaimed Sir Arthur. &quot;You told me it was burnt.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon me, Sir Arthur,&quot; replied Norries; &quot;I never told you any such
-thing. My partner did, but he lied in this case as in many others, and
-I, who knew little of the transaction at the time, found the papers
-after his death, and have them safe in my possession.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There was some writing paper lying on the table, clean and unsullied;
-but without knowing what he did, Sir Arthur Adelon took it in his
-hands, and in two minutes it was twisted into every conceivable shape.
-Norries gazed at him with the slightest possible smile; and in the end
-he said, &quot;I am afraid, Sir Arthur, that paper will not be very
-serviceable; however, we can get more.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Paha!&quot; cried Sir Arthur Adelon; &quot;let us think of serious things, Mr.
-Norries. Those letters must be destroyed. Do you mean to say they were
-all preserved?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Every one,&quot; answered Norries; &quot;nay, more. I have spoken of eight and
-of six years ago, but amongst the documents there are several of a
-much earlier period, which show that the schemes then executed had
-been long devising, that the purpose then accomplished had been long
-nourished. The motives, too, are very evident from certain passages;
-and I now tell you, Sir Arthur Adelon, that if I had been made aware
-of the facts--of the whole facts--those schemes would never have been
-accomplished, that purpose would have been frustrated.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">And he gazed sternly at the baronet, setting his teeth hard.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;My partner, Mr. Sherborne,&quot; continued Norries, after a pause, during
-which his companion uttered not a word, but remained with his eyes
-bent down, and his teeth gnawing his nether lip; &quot;my partner, Mr.
-Sherborne, was a great scoundrel, as you know, Sir Arthur. In fact,
-you knew it at the time you employed him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir, I did not,&quot; exclaimed Sir Arthur, catching at the last word.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Sir Arthur, you did,&quot; replied Norries, firmly; &quot;or you never
-would have employed him in so rascally a business.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He suggested to me everything that was done,&quot; replied the baronet,
-eagerly.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;In consequence of a private conversation, of which he made a note,&quot;
-rejoined Norries, &quot;and of a letter, still preserved, so confirmatory
-of the memorandum, that there can be no doubt of its accuracy.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The face of Sir Arthur Adelon flushed. He was a man of one sort of
-courage, and he replied, haughtily, &quot;I think you intend to insult me,
-sir. Beware what you are doing.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am quite aware,&quot; answered Norries, slowly inclining his head;
-&quot;neither do I intend at all to insult you, Sir Arthur. I speak truth
-in plain terms, having learned in sorrow and adversity that such is
-the only right course to pursue. In justice and in good faith I ought
-to place the whole of those papers in the hands of a gentleman nearly
-related to that Mr. Dudley--his son, I mean.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It could do him no good,&quot; exclaimed the baronet; &quot;the thing is past
-and gone; he ruined and dead; nothing can by any farther means be
-recovered. This Mr. Dudley, could not regain a shilling, nor an acre
-of his father's property, as you well know.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;True,&quot; replied Norries; &quot;there are some things in law which have no
-remedy, as I do well know; but it is right that the son should learn
-who ruined his father, and he should have known long ago, but for one
-circumstance which may perhaps operate still farther.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What is that?&quot; demanded the baronet, quickly; &quot;I have no objection
-whatsoever to give a considerable sum for the possession of those
-papers. They can be of no use to any one but myself. Come, let us talk
-reasonably, Mr. Norries--let us say a thousand pounds.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Money will not do, here, sir,&quot; answered the other, in a contemptuous
-tone; &quot;it had its effect upon Mr. Sherborne, who was a rascal; but it
-will have no effect upon his partner, who is an honest man.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then what, in heaven's name, do you want?&quot; demanded Sir Arthur
-Adelon.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;To see you act up to your professions, Sir Arthur,&quot; replied Norries.
-&quot;At the election which began poor Mr. Dudley's ruin, and which I had
-some share in conducting on your part, you professed, and I really
-believe entertained--for I think that, in that at least, you were
-sincere--principles of firm and devoted attachment to the cause of the
-people. You declared that if they did but return you to parliament,
-you would advocate all measures in favour of their rights and
-liberties; you were more than what is called a Radical--you were a
-Reformer in the true sense of the word; you gloried in being descended
-from the old Saxon race; you pointed out that your name itself was but
-a corruption of that of one of our last Saxon princes; and you
-promised to do your best to restore to the people that perfect freedom
-which is an inalienable inheritance of the Saxon blood. You called
-your son Edgar, in memory of Edgar Atheling, and you promised, in my
-hearing, to maintain those principles at all times and under all
-circumstances, with your voice, with your hand, with your heart's
-blood. Now, Sir Arthur, I call upon you to redeem that promise; and if
-you do, in the way I shall point out, you shall have those papers. I
-have kept them back from the person to whom, perhaps, they ought
-justly to have been given, because I would not blacken the name of one
-whom I believed to be a true patriot. I found excuses for you in your
-own mind to excuse to myself my retention of them. I knew you to be a
-man of strong passions under a calm exterior; I knew that strong
-passions, whenever they become masters, are sure to become despots;
-and I thought that you had acted to the man we have mentioned, under
-an influence that was overpowering--the influence of the strongest and
-most ungovernable of all the passions: the thirst for revenge.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Revenge!&quot; exclaimed Sir Arthur. &quot;Who told you I was moved by
-revenge?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No one told me,&quot; answered Norries; &quot;I knew it. I might have read it
-in every line of those letters; I might have seen it in every deed you
-did; but there was a portion of your previous history, Sir Arthur,
-which I knew from my connexion with that part of the country, and
-which when once the machinations were exposed to my view, afforded
-the key to all. I ask you, Sir Arthur Adelon, whether some six or
-seven-and-twenty years ago, Mr. Charles Dudley did not carry off from
-your pursuit, the lady on whom you had fixed your heart?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur Adelon's usually placid face assumed the expression of a
-demon; and no longer averting his eyes from the fixed, stern gaze of
-Norries, he stared full in his face in return, and slowly inclined his
-head. He said not a word, but that look and that gesture were
-sufficient reply. They said, more plainly than any words could have
-spoken, &quot;You have divined it all; you have fathomed the dark secret of
-my heart to the bottom.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, Sir Arthur,&quot; continued Norries, with a softened air, &quot;I can
-excuse strong passions, for I have them myself, and I know them at
-times to be irresistible. In your case, I was sure you had been thus
-moved. I looked upon you as a man devoted to the service of your
-country; and I thought that, in a case where all other considerations
-should give place to the interests of my country, it would be wrong to
-damn for ever the name of one who might do her the best and highest of
-services. There was but one thing that made me doubt your sincerity.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You should not doubt it,&quot; said Sir Arthur; &quot;I am as sincerely devoted
-to the service of my country as ever.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is your general sincerity to which I allude,&quot; said the
-plain-spoken Norries; &quot;and the reason why I doubted it is this. When
-you had effected your purpose--when you had ruined an honest and good
-man, though a Norman and an aristocrat--you did not boldly and
-fearlessly leave him to his fate; you afforded him assistance to save
-a pitiful remnant of his property, and affected benevolence and
-kindness to a man you hated. I understand it all, Sir Arthur; it was
-not unnatural, but it was insincere.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We had been upon good terms for many years,&quot; replied the baronet, who
-had now resumed his usual demeanour.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Good terms!&quot; repeated Norries, with a laugh; &quot;well, be it so. You are
-now keeping up the appearance of good terms with the government which
-you then opposed, and of which you spoke in language certainly
-seditious, as it is called, and perhaps treasonable. These things have
-created a doubt. That doubt must be removed, not by words and
-professions, not by appearances and pretences, but by acts.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Speak plainly,&quot; said Sir Arthur Adelon. &quot;What is it that you want?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There is a meeting to be held at twelve o'clock this night in the
-little town of Barhampton,&quot; said Norries, &quot;where several gentlemen,
-entertaining precisely the same sentiments which you expressed some
-eight years ago to the people of Yorkshire, are to take into
-consideration what decisive measures can be adopted for obtaining
-those objects which you then professed to seek. I require that you
-should then join us, and be one of us.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Impossible!&quot; cried Sir Arthur Adelon, with a look of consternation
-and astonishment. &quot;Would you have me attend a seditious meeting at
-midnight with a man who has fled from the course of justice--I, a
-magistrate for the county?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A bitter smile came upon the lip of his companion; but he replied
-immediately, &quot;Even so! I would, indeed, Sir Arthur. The spirit of
-patriotism is not so strong in you, it would seem, as the spirit of
-revenge, or you would not hesitate. But thus much, to end all, one way
-or the other: you either come, and, if you do come and frankly join
-us, without any insincerity, receive the papers I have mentioned; or
-you stay away, and Mr. Edward Dudley receives them.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;This is unfair!&quot; exclaimed Sir Arthur Adelon.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Unfair!&quot; replied Norries; &quot;how unfair, sir? I acting according to my
-conscience, however you may be acting. My only reason for withholding
-these letters from the person who would have a right to possess them,
-if their suppression were not necessary to the service of my country,
-is because I trust that you, whose name and station may be an infinite
-advantage as a leader of the people hereafter, will put yourself in
-that position in which no want of moral courage, no vacillating
-hesitation can be shown, or would be possible. If you refuse to do so,
-you will take from me my only motive for not giving them to him who
-will know how to use them rightly. You will show yourself as insincere
-in your professions of patriotism as you were insincere in your
-professions of friendship; and I shall then regard you with contempt,
-and treat you without consideration.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There was a stern and commanding energy in his manner which crushed
-down, as it were, in the breast of Sir Arthur Adelon the angry
-feelings which his impetuous words aroused. He felt cowed in the
-presence of the bold, fearless man who addressed him. He remembered,
-in former times, several traits of his decision and unhesitating
-vehemence; and he felt sure that he would do as much or more than he
-said. At first, indeed, anger was predominant; he gathered himself up,
-as it were, for a spring; but his heart failed him, and he said in a
-mild tone, &quot;You are too fierce--you are too fierce! Let me consider
-for a moment how this can be arranged. I am as willing as any one to
-make sacrifices for my country's advantage; but first you take me by
-surprise, next you use words and proceed in a manner which are little
-likely to induce me to trust to your guidance.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He thought he had got an advantage, and he was proceeding, gradually
-resuming a tone of dignity, when Norries stopped him, saying, &quot;Sir
-Arthur Adelon, there are times and circumstances which of themselves,
-and in their own pressing nature, abridge all ceremonies. If your
-house were on fire, and you in danger of perishing by the flames, I
-should not wait for the punctilios of etiquette, but should wake you
-roughly, saying, 'Run, run, save your life and your family!' Sir, I
-tell you England is on fire, and the time is come for all men to
-choose their part. The days of weak indifference are over. Now is the
-time for decision and action; but nevertheless, I will not leave you
-any excuse, but humbly entreat you to come to our meeting to-night,
-and support with your presence, and your voice, and your influence,
-those principles which you have asserted warmly on other occasions.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But it may be very difficult to manage,&quot; said Sir Arthur Adelon; &quot;I
-have guests in my house, whom I cannot in courtesy leave without some
-exceedingly good excuse. I am not accustomed to go out at such hours
-of the night, and to do so will certainly appear very suspicious,
-especially under existing circumstances.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;All that will be easily arranged,&quot; answered Norries. &quot;You are a
-magistrate, you say, and may consequently be called upon at any hour
-on pressing occasions. You do not, of course, communicate to your
-family or your guests the exact business which calls you forth, or the
-motives for going at one hour rather than another; but should anything
-more be wanting to smoothe the way for you, I will presently write you
-a note, calling upon you to be at Barhampton to-night at twelve, on
-matters of importance. I do not think,&quot; he added, with a sneering
-smile, &quot;that even your confessor will venture to cross-question a
-gentleman of your independence upon a business with which he has
-nothing to do.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly not,&quot; replied Sir Arthur Adelon; &quot;and I have no objection
-to come; but I cannot bind myself to anything till I hear upon what
-measures your friends decide.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Nor can I bind myself to anything, then, till I hear upon what you do
-decide,&quot; rejoined Norries. &quot;The papers are yours whenever you act up
-to your professions. I shall ask nothing more, Sir Arthur. I have a
-copy of your speech upon an occasion which you well remember; I will
-require nothing more of you than to fulfil the pledges therein given,
-and the moment you prove you are ready so to act, I resign into your
-hands those letters, of which others might not judge so favourably as
-I am inclined to judge. Do you promise to come?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do,&quot; answered Sir Arthur Adelon, in a firmer tone than he had
-hitherto used, but with a certain degree of bitterness too. &quot;Yet,
-Norries, there are various other thoughts and considerations of deep
-moment, which our conversation of to-day suggests. It revives in me
-the memories and feelings of past years. You should have considered
-that these matters had passed away from my mind for a long time; that
-of the plans, and hopes, and schemes, and passions of those times,
-some have been accomplished or gratified, and have been well nigh
-forgotten; some, from the utter hopelessness of seeing them
-accomplished, have faded away, and become more like a vision than a
-reality. What will not a man do when he is eager and excited with the
-vehement impulse of fresh feelings and sharp discussions, and the
-enthusiasm of those who surround him? But take those accessories away,
-and the purposes themselves fall into a sleep from which it requires
-some time and preparation to arouse them into active and energetic
-being again. You should have considered this, and not pressed me so
-eagerly without some preparation.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps I should,&quot; replied Norries; &quot;but, Sir Arthur, you have known
-me long, and have known me to be a brief and abrupt man. <i>
-My</i>
-purposes
-never sleep; <i>
-my</i>
-objects never fade: the one engrossing object of my
-country's fate and the welfare of my fellow-men is never a passing
-vision to my eyes, but a stern reality ever present, so that I am
-little able to comprehend the hesitations of other men.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur Adelon, while the other spoke, had cast down his eyes
-thoughtfully, as if little attending to the words of his companion;
-but when he ceased speaking, he said, in an abstracted manner, &quot;This
-Dudley, too, he has intruded himself into my family. He is now at
-Brandon, as you have doubtless heard. The cold, icy hand seemed to
-seize my heart again when I saw him. I felt as if the spawn of the
-viper were before me, and as if it were destined that the race were to
-survive and poison my peace, even when the reptile that first stung me
-was crushed.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Norries gazed at him steadfastly, with his brow contracted with a
-steady, contemplative, inquiring look; and then he replied, &quot;I do
-beseech you, Sir Arthur Adelon, to banish such thoughts, to let the
-faults of the dead, if faults there were, rest with the dead. I think
-you believe in a God, do you not? Well, sir, there is a God who will
-judge him and you. He is gone to receive his judgment; the time will
-come, ere long, for you to receive yours. In the mean while, injure
-not one who has never injured you, and pursue this fell and heinous
-vengeance no further against the son of one whom you once loved----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And of one I always hated,&quot; answered the baronet, finishing the
-sentence for him. &quot;But do you not know, Norries, that as the sweetest
-wine turns soonest to vinegar, so love, wronged and despised, changes
-to the bitterest hate; as for the rest, I purpose pursuing no
-vengeance against the young man. I wish he would quit my dwelling, for
-the very feeling of being obliged to maintain a courteous and soft
-demeanour towards him, increases the loathing with which I regard him.
-That is all--that is all, I assure you; I would do him no harm--but I
-love him not, nevertheless.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I can see that, Sir Arthur Adelon,&quot; answered his companion; &quot;and I
-see, moreover, a dark and sinister fire in your eyes, which I observed
-once before, when first in my presence you mentioned the name of Mr.
-Dudley to my partner. There were deeds followed that mention, which I
-need not call to your mind. I trust there will be none such now--nay,
-nor any attempt towards them; if there be, I will prevent it. I am not
-so good a lawyer--indeed, I know but little of the trade--I am not so
-good a lawyer as Mr. Sherborne, but I am a bolder, more resolute, and
-more honest man. However, I shall see you to-night. Is it not so?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Undoubtedly,&quot; answered Sir Arthur Adelon; &quot;but you have not yet told
-me where I shall find you in Barhampton.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You had better go to the little inn--the Rose, I think it is called,&quot;
-replied Norries; &quot;there is but one. There some one shall come to lead
-you to us; for we are upon our guard, Sir Arthur, and resolute neither
-to be taken unawares, as some men have been, nor to act rashly, and
-bring down destruction on our own heads, as those thoughtless, weak,
-and poor-spirited men did in Yorkshire.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am very happy to hear it,&quot; said the baronet, in a tone of
-sincerity. &quot;I will be there somewhat before twelve; till then,
-farewell.&quot; And shaking Norries by the hand with every sort of apparent
-cordiality, he left him, and returned to Brandon. But when he had
-re-entered the house, he retired for some time to the library, not to
-consider his future conduct, not to review the past. It was, in truth,
-that the conversation of that morning had aroused within him feelings
-dark, bitter, and deadly, which had slept for years; and he felt he
-could not see Mr. Dudley without calming himself, lest sensations
-should appear which he wished studiously to conceal from every eye.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER IX.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">With a quiet, cat-like watchfulness, Mr. Filmer remarked everything
-which passed between Eda Brandon and Charles Dudley. It was not words
-that he laid in wait for, but looks and gestures, the involuntary as
-well as the voluntary, the trifling as well as the important. Nothing
-escaped him, not even the accidental trait or the slightest possible
-indication of a passing emotion. Not the quick glance of the eye,
-withdrawn as soon as given, not the trembling hand nor the quivering
-lip, not the irrepressible sigh; not the fit of absence and the sudden
-raising of the look to the loved one's face, was unremarked by one who
-knew human nature well, and had made a trade of observation. &quot;They
-love,&quot; was his conclusion, &quot;and they understand each other. That walk
-home has concluded what seems to have been begun long ago. Now, then,
-what good is to be derived from this affair?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It is a common calculation which he made, but one very apt to mislead.
-Men who see others labouring for the gratification of their passions,
-are often tempted by the opportunity to endeavour to rule them for
-their own purposes, and then, whatever event occurs, they ask, &quot;What
-good is to be derived from this affair?&quot; But they often miscalculate,
-because they do not ask themselves also, &quot;Is there anything to be made
-of it, with honour and honesty?&quot; If they did they might succeed where
-they every day fail.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Mr. Filmer, however, had his own particular views, which led him upon
-one peculiar course. His very position gave a direction to all his
-actions. The Roman priest stands alone amidst the world, separated
-from all the dearest ties of our nature by an irremovable barrier. He
-may have sympathies, but they are curtailed and restricted; he may
-have affections, but they are limited and enthralled. One predominant
-object is ever before him: one career is fixed for his efforts. He
-stands alone in the world, I repeat, not so much the servant of God as
-the servant of a hierarchy, to the interest and advancement of which
-all his energies must be devoted, and for whose purposes all his
-talents must be employed. As long as he can bring the satisfaction of
-affections, and the gratification of any passions, within the circle
-to which the whole course of education from his earliest years has
-restricted his consciousness of duty, perhaps they may be more
-strongly--I had almost said more fiercely--exercised, from the very
-fact of their narrow range; but the moment they would go beyond that
-limit, the petrifying influence of an engrossing church comes in, and
-changes the man into the mere representation of a system.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Such was the situation of Mr. Filmer. He was by no means without
-passions: fiery, eager, impetuous; but they were subdued to the one
-strict rule, and setting out with that mighty conquest, it was in
-general more easy for him to subdue the minds of other men also. He
-was not without considerable abilities--abilities approaching genius.
-He might have been a great man, in short, if he had not been compelled
-to be an artful man. But for a priest of that church, in the midst of
-an adverse population, it is impossible to be otherwise. It is not a
-religion of openness and candour; and its means must be covert, its
-course tortuous and indirect. Even in the very case of Mr. Dudley, his
-passions were not quiescent; but he was prepared to sacrifice all
-personal feeling for the one great object of his existence, and he
-watched, as I have said, asking himself, &quot;To what uses the events
-taking place could be applied?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It was not, however, Dudley alone whom he watched, nor Dudley and Eda.
-Sir Arthur Adelon was also an object of attentive consideration during
-the evening. There was something in his manner which showed the keen
-eye of the priest that the mind was not at ease: that there was
-something working within the baronet's bosom; and he was surprised
-that it was not revealed to him at once, for the secret of Sir Arthur
-Adelon's thoughts was not often concealed from him. The whole of his
-past life had been displayed before Filmer's eyes, and much which had
-been taking place had been discussed again and again between them. So
-far there was nothing to be concealed; and the priest marvelled that,
-if anything had gone wrong in the course of Sir Arthur's morning
-expedition, he could sit for several hours without communicating the
-fact to him.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur, however, paused and hesitated; not that he feared at all
-to recur to the past, but it was his yet unconfirmed purposes for the
-future which he hesitated to reveal. He knew that Filmer was a firmer,
-more resolute man than himself; he doubted that he would approve any,
-even the slightest, concession to fear. That he was politic and
-skilful he knew, and that his policy and skill would be exercised in
-his patron's behalf he was also fully convinced. But there was a dread
-upon him; and he apprehended that the priest would advise measures too
-bold for his nerves at that time. If he had been forced into vigorous
-defence, Sir Arthur would have sought his advice at once; but there
-was a choice of courses before him; he hesitated: hesitation is always
-a weakness, and as such is sure to take the weaker course. Twice,
-however, during the evening, he caught Filmer's eye resting upon him
-with a very inquiring look. He judged that he suspected something, and
-therefore he resolved in the end to tell him a part; to show him a
-half-confidence; deceiving himself, as all men in such circumstances
-do deceive themselves, and believing that he could to a certain extent
-deceive Mr. Filmer also, although he had known that clear-sighted and
-penetrating man for seven-and-twenty years.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The dinner passed most cheerfully with all but Sir Arthur Adelon. Lord
-Hadley was in great spirits; and, seated next Eda, he made himself as
-agreeable as moderate talents, gentlemanly manners, and no very
-decided character would admit. Dudley was calm, by no means so gay as
-his young companion; but yet the happiness that was in his heart, like
-a lamp within an alabaster urn, spread light and cheerfulness over
-all. Mr. Filmer was, as usual, composed and tranquil in his manner; at
-times impressive in his language, but often adding to the gaiety of
-others by a quiet jest or epigrammatic reply, which derived additional
-force from his seeming unconscious of its possessing any. Eda left the
-table very soon after the dessert had appeared. There were those
-things in her bosom which made her feel happy in the solitude of her
-own chamber. Thought, calm, uninterrupted thought, was at that moment
-very sweet to her. She loved and was beloved; and she had the grand
-satisfaction of feeling that she had it in her power to raise one to
-whom her affections had been given for years, who possessed her
-highest esteem, and who she knew well deserved high station, from
-unmerited misfortunes to the position which he was born to ornament.
-It was indeed a blessing, and Eda went and pondered upon it till her
-eyes filled with pleasant tears.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">For about a quarter of an hour after she had gone, Sir Arthur Adelon
-continued at the table, passing the wine with somewhat nervous haste,
-and keeping up a broken conversation from which his thoughts were
-often absent. At length he said, speaking across the table, &quot;Filmer,
-my reverend friend, I wish to speak with you for a few minutes: Lord
-Hadley, Mr. Dudley, you must not suffer the wine to stand while we are
-absent; I shall be back almost immediately.&quot; And he led the way out of
-the room.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Filmer followed him with a quiet smile, saying to himself, as he
-walked along towards the library, &quot;What men do timidly they always do
-awkwardly; in that they are different from women, in whom timidity is
-grace. Adelon has had twenty opportunities of speaking to me, and has
-of course chosen the worst.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, Filmer,&quot; said the baronet, almost before the door was closed,
-&quot;I have something to talk to you about of great importance.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I thought so, Sir Arthur,&quot; answered Mr. Filmer. &quot;What is it?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why did you think so?&quot; inquired his friend, somewhat surprised, and
-somewhat apprehensive.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Because it seemed to me that you had been annoyed at something,&quot;
-replied Filmer. &quot;When you are uneasy, Sir Arthur, it is soon
-perceived; too soon, indeed. The young and unobserving may not remark
-such things, but one who has been, I trust I may say, your friend for
-so many years, can perceive when you are uneasy in a moment; and a
-very shrewd judge of men's feelings and actions, which I do not
-pretend to be, would, I doubt not, discover the uneasiness, even
-without having had the advantage of such long acquaintance.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">These words, as he intended, added to the embarrassment which Sir
-Arthur already felt; but nevertheless he pursued his course,
-endeavouring, as far as possible, to conceal that he had any
-concealment. &quot;Well, Filmer, well,&quot; he said, &quot;men cannot alter their
-natures, you know; and the matter is one which might well cause
-uneasiness. You recollect that affair of Charles Dudley? You do not at
-all doubt that this is his son who is here?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; answered Mr. Filmer, drily; &quot;but we knew that last night. I
-certainly did, from the moment I saw the back of his head, and your
-face left no doubt that you had made the same discovery.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The very first sight of him,&quot; answered Sir Arthur Adelon, bitterly,
-&quot;and the feelings which that sight produced, left me no doubt of who
-it was that stood before me. But listen a moment, Filmer--listen a
-moment. There is much more behind. You remember well that business of
-Charles Dudley, I say, of him who was my friend and companion, my
-rival and my enemy, and last, my acquaintance----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And your victim,&quot; murmured Filmer, in so low a tone that Sir Arthur
-Adelon did not remark the words, but added, &quot;and my debtor. You
-doubtless also remember the election which we contested, and my
-lawyers, Messrs. Sherborne and Norries?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Perfectly,&quot; answered Filmer; &quot;the one the soul of policy and
-intrigue; shrewd, penetrating, subtle, and faithless; the other, the
-incarnation of republican energy and determination, rash and
-inconsiderate, though full of vigour and ability. He was implicated a
-short time ago in the Chartist insurrection, apprehended with his
-fellows, if I remember right, and thrust into York jail----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Whence he made his escape in two or three days,&quot; rejoined Sir Arthur
-Adelon. &quot;It would be a strong prison that would keep him in. However,
-Sherborne is dead; Norries alive, well, and in this country.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is no great matter, then,&quot; answered Mr. Filmer. &quot;Sherborne was
-the dangerous man, and he is gone. All your communications were with
-him, my good friend; at least as far I know, and I think I saw every
-letter.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The words, &quot;I think,&quot; were spoken in a somewhat doubtful tone, as if
-he did not feel quite sure of the extent of Sir Arthur's confidence;
-but the baronet replied, eagerly, &quot;Every one, Filmer; and indeed, as
-you well know, many of them were dictated by yourself.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;True!&quot; said the priest--&quot;true! I am happy to say they were; I say I
-am happy, Sir Arthur, because it was but right that that man should
-receive a check. Not contented with marrying a lady of the only true
-church, who was promised by her relations to one of their own just and
-reasonable belief, he perverted her from the path of truth into that
-of error, and in twelve months had filled her mind with all the
-foulest doctrines of that heresy in which he had himself been brought
-up. It was just and right, Sir Arthur, that he should not be permitted
-to go on in such a course, and that he should feel even here the
-consequences of those acts.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes; but my dear friend,&quot; replied Sir Arthur Adelon, &quot;those papers
-are of much importance, let me tell you. Both your character and mine
-are compromised if they should ever see the light----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But you told me they were burned,&quot; said Mr. Filmer, with a
-countenance less firm and tranquil than usual.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes; so Sherborne assured me most solemnly,&quot; replied Sir Arthur
-Adelon; &quot;but nevertheless it is not the truth. They are all in the
-hands of this Norries, and he is using every possible means to render
-them available for his own purposes.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">This was, as the reader knows, substantially true; for Sir Arthur
-Adelon was one of those men who do not like to tell a direct
-falsehood, even when it is their intention to deceive; and he intended
-his words to convey to the mind of the priest a very different
-impression of Norries' intentions, while he could always fall back
-upon the precise terms he had employed, and put a larger
-interpretation upon them than Mr. Filmer was likely to do at the
-moment.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The priest mused. &quot;Why what can he do with them?&quot; he demanded, at
-length, still in a thoughtful tone. &quot;They can be of little service to
-him. The time is long past; the circumstances altogether forgotten.
-Charles Dudley, of St. Austin's, is dead----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But his son is living,&quot; replied the baronet, quickly, impatient
-that his companion did not see the importance of the documents at
-once--&quot;his son is living; Norries knows that he is here, and he
-threatens to place the whole of the papers in his hands.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That might be unpleasant, certainly,&quot; answered Filmer; &quot;although you
-had every right to act as you did act, at least such I humbly judge to
-be the case; yet one would not like to have all one's private and
-confidential communications to a solicitor exposed to the eyes of an
-adversary's son.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Like!&quot; exclaimed Sir Arthur, vehemently; &quot;Filmer, you use wonderfully
-cold terms to-night! Why, it would be ruin and destruction! Call to
-mind, I beg of you, all the particulars of the transaction. Remember
-what was done to lead him on from expense to expense in that business.
-Remember all which that man Sherborne suggested, and which we
-executed. The matter of the petition, too, against his return, and
-what was arranged between our people and his own agents, and the
-business of the flaw in the title. You must have forgotten, I think.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! no,&quot; replied the priest; &quot;I have not forgotten, Sir Arthur, and I
-say it would be unpleasant, very unpleasant. What does this person
-Norries ask for the papers?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! a great deal,&quot; answered Sir Arthur Adelon, still speaking with
-that sort of mental reservation which he had learned betimes; &quot;more
-than I am inclined to grant: a great deal more; but I shall see him
-to-night. I have an appointment with him at Barhampton, and shall
-there learn what is the real extent of his demand.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The priest meditated for several minutes with a grave and somewhat
-anxious countenance. &quot;Norries,&quot; he said, at length, &quot;was a wild and
-somewhat eccentric man, but as far as I could judge, a just and honest
-one. His views, too, though somewhat extreme, as his acts were
-occasionally ill-timed, were all in a right direction. I am afraid,
-Sir Arthur, we have fallen back from the ground we then occupied. The
-truth is, my excellent friend, the Church of Rome, as it is called,
-the Catholic Church, as it really is, has not that tendency which men
-suppose towards the aristocratic distinctions which have risen up in
-this land. It might place upon its banner the words 'Civil liberty,
-spiritual submission.' It reverences all ancient things: amongst the
-rest, ancient blood; but is certainly opposed to an aristocracy
-springing from the people, and founded upon wealth; although in itself
-it may be termed a spiritual republic, in which every man, according
-to his genius and ability, can, with the grace of God, rise to the
-very highest of its grades, even to the chair of St. Peter itself. We
-have often seen it. But, as is the case in all republics, the utmost
-submission is required to the ruling power, although there is always a
-corrective for the misuse of power in the synods and councils. It is a
-hierarchy, indeed, but a hierarchy open to all men; and as a hierarchy
-it is opposed to the domination of all lay powers, which are ever
-inclined to resist the milder influence of spiritual powers.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But what has all this to do with the question?&quot; exclaimed Sir Arthur
-Adelon, not comprehending what the reader has perhaps perceived, that
-the priest was carrying on in words one train of reasoning, very
-loosely connected with the immediate subject, while in thought he was
-revolving more pertinently all the difficult points that were before
-him.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What I mean to say is this,&quot; replied Mr. Filmer. &quot;Men consider it
-strange that Roman Catholics should, from time to time, give their
-support to movements savouring of republicanism; and that persons
-whose views tend to republicanism should often link themselves closely
-with Catholics; but as I have shown, the connexion is not at all
-unnatural, and the views of this good man Norries might well be, as
-they were, supported by ourselves; even were it not perfectly right
-and justifiable, in the pursuit of a great and all-important object,
-to combine even with men the most opposed to us in the minor points of
-politics, when by so doing we see the probability of advancing the
-truth.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What! would you have me, then, join with him now?&quot; exclaimed Sir
-Arthur, in considerable surprise; for the arguments of Father Peter
-went so directly to support the inducements held out by Norries, that
-the baronet could hardly persuade himself there had not been some
-communication between the Chartist and the priest.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I did not exactly say that,&quot; answered Filmer. &quot;Men's views frequently
-undergo a change in a few years. I know not what this man's opinions
-may now be. He was then an eager advocate for perfect freedom of
-religious opinions; he was then for sweeping away altogether what they
-call here the Church of the State, and leaving every man to follow
-what creed he thinks best.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But, surely, my reverend friend,&quot; exclaimed Sir Arthur Adelon, &quot;such
-are principles you would never support or even tolerate? It was in his
-religious views alone that I differed from Norries.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The priest smiled with one of those calm, sagacious smiles that have a
-certain though moderate portion of triumph in them, the triumph of
-superior astuteness. &quot;I would support them for their hour,&quot; he said.
-&quot;I remember hearing of a wise stratagem practised by a great general
-who was besieging a refractory city. The inhabitants had dammed up a
-river which ran on one side of the town, and thus had defended their
-walls on that side from all attack. The dam or barrier which they had
-constructed was immediately under the fire of one of their strongest
-works, so that it was unassailable; but the general of whom I speak,
-by a week's hard labour, turned the course of a still larger river
-into that which served for their defence, and the mighty torrent,
-rushing down, swept away the barriers altogether. The river resumed
-its equal flow, and the attacking army, marching on, took the town by
-storm on the very side where it had been judged impregnable. Now, my
-dear friend, the Catholic religion is the attacking army; the revolted
-and besieged city is this country of England; the overflowed river
-which defends us is moderate toleration of opinion; the barrier which
-keeps the waters up is the heretical church of this country, and we
-have nought to do but to pour the torrent of licentious freedom
-against that barrier till it is quite overthrown, in order to have a
-clear way for our march, and to secure our ultimate triumph.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The baronet paused and mused for several moments, partly considering
-the new views which his companion had propounded, partly debating with
-himself as to whether he should make his confidence more complete than
-he had at first intended, and before he replied Mr. Filmer went on
-again. &quot;I do not mean to say, Sir Arthur,&quot; he continued, &quot;that I would
-advise you to take any rash or dangerous step; and indeed, on the
-contrary, I think you had a great deal better, while you give
-encouragement to the moral movement, oppose most strongly all appeal
-to force, till the country is far more prepared for it than at
-present. To show yourself upon their side may give vigour to their
-proceedings, may gain many adherents to range themselves openly with
-them who are merely restrained by fear and timidity, and may assist
-them in raising that prestige of power, numbers, and respectability,
-which, if it can be maintained, conquers in the end all opposition;
-for as you are well aware, so curiously constituted is the mind of
-this nation, that no question, however absurd, no view, however false,
-no measure, however evil and detrimental, will not gain the adherence
-of the great multitude if they can once be taught to believe, by truth
-or falsehood, that it is supported by numbers and by respectability. I
-have no doubt that, if I could show, or rather, if I could persuade,
-the people of England that there are a million or two of atheists in
-the land demanding the abolition of all religious worship whatsoever,
-the great body of the people would be easily induced to renounce their
-God, and endeavour to sweep away every trace of religion from the
-land. There is no being on the face of the earth so susceptible of
-moral contagion as an Englishman.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is a dark view of the case,&quot; said Sir Arthur Adelon.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But a true one,&quot; answered Filmer; &quot;otherwise England would have been
-still Catholic. However, to return to these papers. You say you will
-see Norries again tonight; you must then discover what is the extent
-of his demand. I would make him no promises, were I in your place,
-till I had had time for thought and deliberation; neither would I
-refuse anything that he might demand, that is to say, not absolutely,
-till we have consulted together. I will go with you, if you like, to
-speak with him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not think he would open his views before another,&quot; said Sir
-Arthur, hastily; &quot;but as it is well, my reverend friend, to be
-prepared against the worst, let us consider what must be done should
-this man's views be very exorbitant, and should he refuse all time for
-deliberation.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then you must say 'No,' of course,&quot; replied Filmer; &quot;and we will take
-measures against his measures.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I see none that we can take,&quot; answered the baronet, gloomily. &quot;He
-would instantly place the papers in this young man's hands, and then
-ruin, and destruction, and disgrace, would be the consequence.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Should you find that there is danger of his doing so suddenly,&quot; was
-Mr. Filmer's reply, &quot;we must deal with Mr. Dudley ourselves, either in
-attaching him to us by bringing him over to the true faith again,
-or----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There is no chance of that; there is no chance of that!&quot; exclaimed
-the baronet, interrupting him, and waving his hand impatiently.
-&quot;Filmer, you think your eloquence can do everything; but you could as
-soon move the church of St. Peter, and set it down in the capital of
-England, as you would bring back to the true faith one of that
-stubborn race of heretics!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You are prejudiced, my friend,&quot; replied Filmer, calmly; &quot;but do not
-suppose that I rely upon my own eloquence. It can do nothing but by
-strength from on high, and the voice of the true church is powerful.
-Still, temporal means must be employed as well; and I see a way before
-me of so completely rendering it his interest, notwithstanding every
-cause of enmity he may have, to bury all past deeds in oblivion, to
-seek your friendship rather than your hate, and, I trust, even to
-return to the bosom of the church, that I am not without very great
-hopes of success. Should those hopes prove vain, however, my dear Sir
-Arthur, should he show himself deaf to the voice of truth, obstinate
-in error, revengeful and rancorous in disposition, we must use the
-right of self-defence, which every creature has, and in a firm,
-determined spirit, but with prudent skill, retort upon him any attack
-he may make upon you, and without hesitation or fear, aim blow after
-blow, till he either sinks beneath the assault, or is driven to flight
-for safety.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">His brow gathered into a stern and determined frown as he spoke; and
-Sir Arthur Adelon so well knew his unflinching resolution in the hour
-of danger, and his keen and subtle policy in the time of difficulty,
-that he gained courage from the courage of his companion, and smiled
-with some bitter satisfaction at the thought of pursuing the vengeance
-he had already heaped upon the father to the destruction of the son
-likewise. He only ventured to observe, &quot;How either of these two
-objects is to be accomplished, I do not see.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Leave that to me,&quot; answered Filmer, in a confident tone. &quot;I think you
-have never known me fail, Sir Arthur, in that which I promised you to
-perform. I will mature my plans, prepare my ground for either course;
-and though there may be difficulties which would startle a weak,
-irresolute, or unpractised mind, they alarm not me. On the contrary, I
-often think it is a blessing of God that I am placed in a calm and
-tranquil position of life, and have embraced a sacred profession,
-which rules and regulates the turbulent impulses of our nature; for I
-feel a sort of expansion of mind and rejoicing of heart when
-circumstances compel me to struggle with intricate and perilous
-difficulties, and overcome stubborn and apparently insurmountable
-obstacles, which might have led me, had I not been excluded from
-mundane things, into the strife and toil and degrading greatness of
-mere earthly ambition.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It is probable that he really believed what he said; for there is no
-man who does not deceive himself more or less; and those who from
-passion, or interest, or education, or any other evil inducement,
-fall into the darkest errors, are those who are in most need of
-self-deception. He thought deeply for a moment or two after he had
-spoken, and there was a gloomy look of pride upon his countenance,
-too, as if he even regretted that in which he pretended to rejoice: a
-shadow from the fallen archangel's wing. But then again he roused
-himself with a start, and said, in an ordinary and composed tone, &quot;We
-will talk over our old plans early to-morrow, Sir Arthur; you had
-better now go to your conference.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not yet,&quot; said Sir Arthur, rising. &quot;It is not to take place till
-twelve. But we must rejoin those young men, or they may think our
-prolonged absence strange.&quot; Thus saying, he led the way to the door,
-and Filmer only detained him to add one sentence:--</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Remember,&quot; he said, &quot;do not commit yourself!&quot;</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER X.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">The town of Barhampton--or rather, that town which it suits me so to
-denominate--is one of no great importance in point of size, and of no
-great commerce, for railroads have not yet reached it; and the nearest
-point which had been attained by any of those strange contrivances for
-hurrying man through life and through a country, lay at the distance
-of nearly fifty miles at the time of which I speak. Nevertheless, it
-was a sea-port; and had it been near the capital, near any important
-town, or situated in a thickly-populated district, it possessed
-several considerable advantages, which would have secured to it, in
-all probability, an extensive and lucrative trade. It had a very nice
-small harbour, for which man had done something and nature much. The
-water was deep therein; and had there been room for one of the
-unwieldy monsters of the deep, a three-decker might have lain at
-anchor there with six fathom under her keel. But the harbour was very
-small, and had a line-of-battle ship attempted it, her boom would
-probably have knocked down the harbour-master's office at the end of
-the little jetty, while her bowsprit entered the Lord Nelson
-public-house by the windows of the first floor. Boats and coasters, of
-from thirty to ninety tons, could come in at all times of tide, but
-nothing larger was seen in the harbour of Barhampton.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Outside the harbour, however, in what was called the bay, especially
-when the wind set strong from the southwest, a very different scene
-was displayed, for there nature seemed to have laboured alone on a far
-grander scale. Two high and rocky promontories, at some points about a
-mile and a half apart, stretched forth from the general line of the
-coast into the sea, like two gigantic piers. One, following the line
-of the high ridge which crowned it, was nearly straight; the other
-swept round in the arc of a large circle, projecting considerably
-farther into the ocean than the other, but gradually approaching, in
-its sweep, the opposite promontory; so that, at the entrance of this
-magnificent bay, the passage was not more than half a mile in width.
-Few winds, of all those to which mariners have given name, affected in
-any great degree the deep still waters within that high and
-mountainous circle; and there, when tempests were raging without,
-might be seen riding, in calm security, the rich argosie and the
-stately ship of war. No cargoes, however, were now disembarked at
-Barhampton, except those of the small vessels which entered the
-harbour, and which supplied the town and the neighbouring country with
-a variety of miscellaneous articles of ordinary use.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Nevertheless, in former times, the town, it would appear, must have
-been a place of some importance. Rising up the slopes of the hills,
-from the brink of the harbour, its narrow, tortuous, ill-lighted,
-unswept, and dilapidated-looking streets reached the summit of the
-high ground, where a number of superior houses were to be found,
-somewhat stately in appearance, antique in form, and cold and formal
-in aspect, except, indeed, where a cheerful little garden interposed,
-blushing with china-astres, dahlias, and other autumnal flowers. Yet
-even these could not give it an air of life, or if they did at all, it
-was an air of vegetable life. There was no movement, there was no
-activity in it. It seemed as if everybody in the place was dead,
-except a few men who had come in to bury the rest. Beyond these houses
-of the better classes, as rich people are called, were some poorer
-dwellings, descending the slope on the opposite side of the ridge; and
-beyond these again, came the ancient walls of the town, built and
-perfected when Barhampton was a place of strength.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The town had not, indeed, been dismantled even yet, but it had been
-disarmed; and now, instead of large cannon, and soldiers 'bearded like
-pard,' the broad ramparts displayed the nursery-maids and the little
-children of the citizens flirting with apprentices, or peeping out of
-empty embrasures; or, on the Sunday, the great mass of the inhabitants
-of the town walking in gay attire, enjoying the fine air, and gazing
-over the wide prospect. Round about, nearly in the shape of a
-horse-shoe, from one point of the harbour to the other, enclosing the
-whole city, if it could be so called, within their area, swept those
-old walls, time-worn, and lichen-covered, and loaded with snapdragon.
-No mason's trowel, no busy chisel, had been employed upon them for
-more than two centuries, and the hard knocks of Oliver Cromwell's
-cannon had left traces still unobliterated even by the equalizing hand
-of time.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The external appearance of the place was not at all deceptive. The
-march of improvement was not a quick march in Barhampton. In fact, in
-the space of fifty years, but one improvement had been made in the
-town, and the audacious and reforming mayor, who had sanctioned,
-recommended, and successfully carried out this act of innovation, had
-been held in execration ever since by a considerable portion of his
-fellow-townsmen. The deed I speak of was the enlargement of the
-High-street, and the giving it as near as possible a straightforward
-direction. It would now admit two carriages, or even waggons, abreast
-in every part; formerly only one could pass, except at particular
-places, where a greater expansion had been purposely given to the
-road, in order to prevent the comers up and goers down from jamming
-each other together immovably. In previous times, also, this street
-had pursued a sort of zigzag direction, which nearly doubled its
-length, and this had evidently been done, not for the purpose of
-avoiding the acclivities, but rather for that of finding them out; for
-even in going down the hill, carriages had to mount as often, though
-not so far at any one time, as they had to descend; and in coming up,
-one rise seemed only to be overcome in order to go down and seek for
-another.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The same innovating magistrate who had committed the heinous act of
-straightening and widening the street, had expressed an antipathy to
-the old town gates, and their heavy oaken doors, with portcullis and
-draw-bridge; but the whole town rose as one man to resist his rash and
-horrible proceedings. In vain he showed that more than one horse had
-taken fright in going over the clattering, rickety, old bridge; in
-vain he pointed out that a very respectable old lady had broken her
-neck at the same spot, by a fall into the ditch. The people said that
-the horses were mad and the lady drunk, to do such things; and the
-mayor died, like all great patriots, before he saw his schemes for the
-improvement of his native place carried into full accomplishment.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Thirty years had passed since the reign of this potentate, and a
-change had come over the spirit of the people of Barhampton. There
-were many great reformers in the place--men who sighed for a complete
-change in all things--who stood up for the rights and liberties of the
-people; who would have all men permitted to sell gin and cordial
-compounds from any hour at which they chose to begin, to any hour at
-which they chose to end; who corrected municipal abuses, and
-castigated corrupt parish officers; who worried the mayor, tormented
-the aldermen, bored the county magistrates and members of parliament,
-abused the overseers, and set even the beadle at nought. But in the
-mending of their ways they still forgot to mend the ways of the city:
-that did not come under their notions of reform. They refused a
-church-rate, and therefore could not be expected to vote a paving and
-lighting rate. They objected to all taxes of all kinds, and most of
-all they objected to tax themselves. They evaded imposts wherever they
-could; paid grumblingly those they were compelled to pay; cheated the
-customs by prescription, and the excise by cunning; and thought
-themselves pure and immaculate if they only defrauded the state and
-escaped the law. How often is it with men, that punishment rather than
-crime is considered disgraceful!</p>
-
-<p class="normal">But I must not moralize upon the little community of Barhampton.
-Things went on increasing and prospering with the reformers. At first
-they were moved apparently by nothing but the pure spirit of
-innovation; but there were some men of more mind amongst them than the
-rest; and having all agreed upon the necessity of great and sweeping
-changes in church, state, and municipality, they proceeded to inquire
-what sort of changes were desirable. They instructed themselves in
-what other people demanded, and thus the reforming part of the
-population divided itself into three distinct portions, consisting of
-Whigs, Radicals, and Chartists. Amongst the former were some of the
-most respectable and dullest men of the town: the Radicals comprised
-the great body of the mob-ocracy. The Chartists were men of
-enthusiastic temperaments, sincere and eager characters, and in many
-instances, of considerable powers of mind. They saw great social
-evils, magnified their extent by the force of imagination, and,
-unaccustomed to any of the details of public business, perceived but
-one remedy for the sickness of the state, and imagined that remedy to
-be a panacea for all ills. Moral force was a good thing in their eyes,
-but physical force they thought a better. They believed themselves
-prepared for all contingencies; they imagined themselves ready to shed
-their blood in support of that which they never doubted to be good;
-they dreamed of the crown of martyrdom in their country's service;
-and, in short, they were political fanatics, though not a small
-portion of true patriotism lay at the bottom of their yearnings for
-revolution. On most occasions the Radicals would join with them, and
-therefore the Chartists looked upon them for the time as brothers; but
-the union was not solid, and in more important matters still, the
-Radicals were disposed to support the Whigs. This fact began to be
-felt a little before the period at which my tale opens. The Chartists
-imagined that they perceived a greater sympathy in many points between
-themselves and the Tories, than between themselves and the Whigs; that
-there was more real philanthropy, a greater wish to see the condition
-of the lower classes materially improved, amongst persons of Tory
-principle, than in any other class. But there were also fundamental
-differences, which rendered perfect assimilation with them impossible,
-and though they regarded the Tories with a kindly feeling, they could
-not unite with them for any great object.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Such was briefly the state of the town, physical and moral, when the
-carriage of Sir Arthur Adelon rolled through the gates, which had not
-been closed for half a century; and a drag having been put on, it
-began to descend slowly the principal street of the place. In that
-principal street was situated the small inn called the Rose, which,
-though there were numerous public-houses, was the only place which
-kept post-horses, and honoured itself by the name of hotel. The
-streets were miserably dark, and nearly deserted, and Sir Arthur
-Adelon felt a little nervous and uneasy at the thought of what was
-before him.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In the heat of blood and party strife, men will go boldly and
-straight-forwardly towards objects pointed out by principles in their
-own mind, and will seek those objects and assert those principles at
-the risk of life and fortune, and all that makes life and fortune
-desirable. But they proceed upon the same course with very different
-feelings when, in calmness and tranquillity, after a long cessation of
-turmoil and contest, they return to the same paths, even though their
-general views may remain unchanged, and they may think their purposes
-as laudable as ever.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Such was the case with Sir Arthur Adelon. Perhaps, if one looked
-closely into his heart, and could see, not only what was in it at the
-present moment, but what I may call the history of his sensations, we
-should find that his having embraced the extreme views which he
-entertained had originated in mortified vanity and an embittered
-spirit. An early disappointment, acting upon a haughty and somewhat
-vindictive temper, had soured his feelings towards society in general;
-and when, shortly afterwards, he had met a check, by the refusal of a
-peerage which he thought he had well merited, a bitter disgust
-succeeded towards institutions in which he was excluded from the high
-position he had coveted, and he became anxious to throw down other men
-from a position which he could not attain. It was by no regular
-process of reasoning from these premises that he arrived at the
-extremely democratical opinions which he often loudly proclaimed; but
-the events of his early life gave a general bias to his thoughts,
-which led him step by step to the violent views which he announced in
-two contested elections in Yorkshire; and at the present time, though
-he had sunk into temporary apathy, his notions were not at all
-moderated even by years and experience. He was not inclined, indeed,
-to risk so much, or to engage in such rash enterprises, as he might
-have done in the hasty days of youth; but the long-buried seeds were
-still in his mind, and it only required warmth and cultivation to make
-them spring up as green and fresh as ever. Nevertheless, he approached
-discussions in which he felt he might be carried beyond the point
-where prudence counselled him to stop, with a great degree of nervous
-anxiety; and he almost hoped, as his carriage stopped at the inn door,
-and no signs of waking life appeared but the solitary lamp over the
-little portico, that some accident might have prevented the meeting.
-The next instant, however, a light shone through the glass door, and a
-waiter appearing, approached the step of the carriage, saying, &quot;The
-gentleman told me to tell you, Sir Arthur, that he would be back in a
-few minutes.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The baronet bit his lip--there was now no escaping; and following the
-waiter to a sitting-room, he ordered some sherry, and took two or
-three glasses, but they did not raise his spirits. All was silent in
-the town; not a sound was heard but the sighing of the breeze from the
-bay, and a faint sort of roar, which might be the wind in the chimney,
-or the breaking of the sea upon the shore. Solemn and slow, vibrating
-in the air long after each stroke, the great clock of the old church
-struck twelve, and Sir Arthur Adelon muttered to himself, &quot;I will not
-wait, at all events; they cannot expect me to wait.&quot; One, two, three
-minutes passed by, and the baronet rose, and was approaching the bell,
-when the foot of the waiter was heard running up the stairs, and the
-door was opened.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The gentleman, sir,&quot; said the waiter; and entering more slowly, a
-stout, hard-featured, red-haired man appeared, well dressed, and
-though clumsily made, not of an ungentlemanly appearance. Sir Arthur
-had never seen his face before, and gazed on him with some surprise;
-but the stranger waited till the door was closed again, and then
-advancing, with a slight bow, he said, &quot;Sir Arthur Adelon, I believe?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The same, sir,&quot; replied the baronet. &quot;I expected to find another
-gentleman here. May I ask whom I have the honour of addressing?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;My name, sir, is Mac Dermot,&quot; replied the stranger; &quot;and my friend,
-Mr. Norries, who is probably the person you allude to, would have been
-here to receive you, but being detained with some preliminary
-business, he requested me to come hither, and be your guide a little
-farther in the town.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The name given was information sufficient to Sir Arthur Adelon
-regarding the person before him. He saw one of the chief leaders of
-the great, though somewhat wild and ill-directed movement, in which he
-himself had taken, as yet, a very inconsiderable part. He felt that
-his very communication with such a man compromised him in a high
-degree; and he was anxious to ascertain how much Mac Dermot really
-knew of his affairs before he proceeded farther. He therefore slowly
-drew on his gloves, and took up his hat, saying, &quot;I am very happy to
-see you, Mr. Mac Dermot. I suppose my old acquaintance, Mr. Norries,
-has made you acquainted with the various circumstances in which he has
-been connected with me?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not particularly,&quot; replied his companion. &quot;He has informed us that he
-acted for some time as your solicitor, when you were residing in
-Yorkshire; and he has laid before us the report of several speeches
-which you made at that time, with which, I may add, I was myself well
-acquainted before; but which has given great satisfaction to every one
-present, from the prospect of seeing a gentleman of such rank and
-influence, and one who can so eloquently express our own exact
-sentiments, likely to be united with us once more in advocating the
-cause of the people against those who oppress them. Will you permit me
-to lead the way?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur Adelon had marked every word that was spoken with peculiar
-attention, and Mac Dermot's reply was a great relief to him. Norries
-had not mentioned the power he had over him, and moreover the words
-'advocating the cause of the people' seemed to him to imply that
-nothing of a violent or physical nature was intended; and that all the
-leaders of the movement had in view was to endeavour to strengthen
-themselves in public opinion by argument and by moral force.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He therefore followed with a lighter step, and was conducted through
-several narrow and tortuous streets and back lanes, to a house which
-presented no very imposing appearance, as far as it could be
-discovered in the darkness of the night. The door was low and narrow,
-and stood ajar; and when Mac Dermot pushed it open, and Sir Arthur saw
-the passage by a light which was at the other end, he said to himself,
-&quot;There can be no very formidable meeting here, for there does not seem
-to be room for a dozen men in the whole house.&quot; He was conducted
-through the passage to a staircase as narrow, which led to a long sort
-of gallery, running round what seemed a stable-yard, at the end of
-which was a door, which Mac Dermot held open for his companion to
-pass. When Sir Arthur had gone through, his guide closed the door and
-locked it, and then saying, &quot;This way, sir,&quot; led him to another door,
-at which a man was standing immoveable, with a lamp in his hand. There
-Mac Dermot knocked, and the door was unlocked and opened from within.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The next moment Sir Arthur Adelon found himself in a very large,
-low-ceilinged, ill-shaped room, with a long table in the midst. There
-were several tallow candles round about, emitting a most disagreeable
-odour, and casting a red, glaring, unsatisfactory light upon the faces
-of between thirty and forty men, seated at the board in various
-attitudes. At the head of the table, in an armchair, appeared Norries,
-such as I have described him before; but any attempt to paint the
-other groups in the room would be vain, for every sort of face, form,
-and dress which England can display, was there assembled, from the
-sharp, shrewd face of long-experienced age, to the delicate features
-of the beardless lad; from the stout and stalwart form of the hardy
-yeoman, to the sickly and feeble frame of the over-tasked artisan of
-the city. Here appeared one in the black coat and white neck-cloth
-usually worn by the ministers of religion; there a man in the garb of
-a mechanic: in one place a very spruce blue satin handkerchiefed
-gentleman, with yellow gloves, and close by him another who was
-apparently a labouring blacksmith, with his hands brown and sooty from
-the forge. An elderly man, in a well-worn flaxen wig, and large eyes
-like black cherries, might have passed by his dress for a very small
-country attorney, and opposite to him sat a broad-shouldered man of
-six foot two, in a blue coat, leather breeches, and top-boots,
-probably some large farmer in the neighbourhood of the town.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Two seats were reserved on each side of the chairman; and while Mac
-Dermot locked the door again, and every person present rose, Sir
-Arthur Adelon, with his stately step and aristocratic air, but, if the
-truth must be told, with a good deal of disgust and some anxiety at
-heart, walked up to the head of the table, shook hands with Norries,
-and took one of the vacant chairs. The other was immediately occupied
-by Mac Dermot, and then rising, the chairman said, &quot;Gentlemen, I have
-the honour of introducing to you Sir Arthur Adelon, whose station and
-fortune afford the lowest title to your esteem. Far higher in mind
-than in rank, far richer in generous qualities and in mental
-endowments than in wealth, he has ever shown himself the friend of
-that great and majestic body, the people of this country; he has
-always professed and undauntedly maintained the same opinions which we
-conscientiously entertain; and he is ready, I am sure, to go heart and
-hand with us in all just and reasonable measures for the defence of
-our rights and liberties.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The whole party assembled gave the baronet a cheer, and the sensations
-with which Sir Arthur had entered began already to wane, even in the
-first excitement of the moment. Here, however, I must drop the curtain
-over a scene of which the reader has probably had enough, and proceed
-to other events of no less importance in this tale.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XI.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">It is the most difficult thing in the world to convey to the mind of a
-reader the idea of extended space by a rapid sketch. You may say days
-passed, and weeks; but the reader does not believe a word of it. He
-takes up the narrative where it left off; an abstract proposition is
-put before him, and he does not pursue it to any of its consequences.
-He does not consider for one moment, unless it be clearly explained to
-him, how those days and those weeks, with all the events which they
-brought to pass, had wrought upon the characters, the circumstances,
-and the relative positions of the personages before him. In a mere
-sketch with the pencil you can do better: by lighter lines and finer
-touches you make distant objects recede; by bolder strokes and
-stronger delineations you bring forward the near and the distinct.
-Nevertheless, I must endeavour to pass over several days rapidly,
-curtailing every unnecessary description, rejecting every needless
-detail, and yet dwelling so far upon the several events as to mark to
-the reader's mind that time was passing, and bearing on its rapid and
-buoyant flood a multitude of small objects, marking to each individual
-the progress of time towards eternity.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Day after day was spent at Brandon House in the usual occupations of a
-country mansion. There were walks, and rides, and drives, and shooting
-parties; and the fact most important for Charles Dudley was, that he
-was frequently alone for more than an hour together with Eda Brandon.
-All was explained, all was promised, all was understood. In less than
-two months she would be of age, her hand and her property at her own
-disposal; and Dudley felt angry at himself, from a sensation of regret
-which he experienced, that he did not still possess the ancient
-estates of his house, that he might unite himself to her for ever, as
-pride termed it, upon equal terms.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Those were very, very happy interviews; sometimes over the green lawns
-or shady groves of the park, sometimes alone in the library or the
-drawing-room, sometimes sitting side by side near the river, or in the
-deep wood, and talking with a melancholy pleasure over the past, or
-looking forward with a cheerful hope unto the future. They wondered
-sometimes that these communications were so little interrupted, and
-that nobody observed or attempted to interfere; but Sir Arthur Adelon
-was frequently absent on business as he said; Lord Hadley was seized
-with a passion for roaming about the country, which he had never
-displayed before; and a sort of irritable gloom had fallen upon Edgar
-Adelon, the cause of which he explained to no one, but which was
-easily seen by the eyes of his cousin. He often sought solitude, shut
-himself up in his own room, walked, when he went forth, in a different
-direction from the rest of the party, and seemed involved in thought,
-even when Eda and himself, and Dudley, were together without
-witnesses.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Nevertheless, he was the person who most frequently cut short the
-interviews of the two lovers, or deprived them of opportunity when the
-golden fruit was at their lips. He seemed to have conceived a peculiar
-and extraordinary affection for Lord Hadley's tutor; and there was
-that confident reliance and unreserved frankness in the friendship he
-displayed with which Dudley could not help feeling gratified, and
-which he could not make up his mind to check, even for the sake of a
-few more happy moments with Eda Brandon. By fits and starts the young
-man would come and ask him to join him in his walks; would seek his
-society and his conversation; and would sometimes express his regard,
-nay, even his admiration, with a warmth and a candour which seemed to
-Dudley, ignorant of all cause for such sensations in his heart, as
-savouring too much of childish simplicity for one who was standing at
-the verge of manhood. His conversation, however, was very interesting,
-full of wild flights of fancy, rich and imaginative in terms, and
-overflowing with the deep stream of the heart. He insisted upon it
-that his companion should call him Edgar, and said that he would
-always use the name of Dudley; and many a counsel would he ask of him,
-and listen to his advice with that profound and deep attention which
-showed that, from some cause or other, reverence had been joined with
-affection. This extraordinary interest sometimes puzzled Dudley. He
-would ask himself could Edgar have perceived the mutual affection of
-Eda and himself, and could his regard for his fair cousin have taught
-him to love whomsoever she loved? But there was no appearance of such
-perception when they were together: not by a word, not by a smile, not
-by a quiet jest, did he ever show a knowledge of their affection; and
-Dudley at length concluded that it was one of those boyish friendships
-which, suddenly conceived, and nourished, by long after-intercourse,
-often form the basis of lasting regard which only terminates with
-life.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Another person, who seemed to have been much struck with Dudley, and
-who also occupied a good deal of his time, was Mr. Filmer; but to say
-the truth, Dudley himself was less pleased with his society than with
-that of Edgar Adelon. It was always smooth, easy, agreeable. There was
-not the slightest appearance of effort in his conversation; nothing
-strained, nothing at all peculiar in his demeanour. He was learned,
-witty, imaginative; mingling quiet cheerfulness and unobtrusive gaiety
-with occasional strains of thought so deep and so intense, yet so
-pellucid and bright, that the hearer was carried away with wonder and
-delight. He was fond of talking of religious subjects, and with all
-the many associated with them by his church. He had a love for, and an
-intimate acquaintance with, ancient architecture in all its branches;
-and he combined therewith fancies, hypotheses, or theories, as the
-reader may have it, which gave a sort of mystical signification to
-every part and portion of an old building, and spread, as it were, a
-religious feeling through the conception and the execution of the
-whole. Every church, or abbey, or cathedral, which had been raised in
-pure catholic times, was in his eyes but a symbol of the spiritual
-church--a hierarchy, as it were, in stone. He loved sacred music, too.
-There was not a chant, a canon, an anthem, a mass, or a dirge, that he
-did not know, and could descant upon eloquently, or sit down and play
-it with exquisite taste, if no great execution, joining occasionally a
-powerful and melodious voice in snatches of rich song, without the
-slightest appearance of vanity or display, but merely as if to give
-the hearer an idea of the composition which he had mentioned.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">All this was very charming, but still there was something which made
-Charles Dudley prefer the frank, free, fearless conversation of Edgar
-Adelon. He knew not well what that something was; he could not term it
-a studiedness, but it was all too definite, too circumscribed by
-rules, too much tied down to purposes and views which allowed no
-expansion but in peculiar directions. Although there was no
-affectation, there seemed to be an object in everything he said. There
-was, in short, a predominant idea to which everything was referrible,
-and which deprived his conversation of that wide and natural range,
-that free and liberal course, which is one of the greatest charms of
-friendly intercourse. One felt that, in a very different sense from
-that in which the beautiful words were originally used--'he was in the
-world, but not of the world.'</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A time came rapidly when much was explained that was at first dark;
-but we must turn to another of our characters, whose fate was
-intimately interwoven with that of Charles Dudley. Lord Hadley, as I
-have said, was frequently absent from Brandon House; and when he was
-present, there was something in his manner which showed a change of
-thought or feeling. He attempted to flirt with Eda Brandon--a
-difficult matter at any time, but more difficult still in the
-circumstances which existed, and especially when it was done with an
-effort. His manner towards Dudley, too, was very different. He sought
-his society but little; was captious in his conversation with him, and
-somewhat petulant in his replies. He seemed not well pleased when that
-gentleman was with Eda; and marked his feelings so plainly, that
-Dudley was sometimes inclined to fear that his pupil had conceived an
-attachment to the object of his own affection. But then, again, twice
-when they were sauntering in the park before the house, Lord Hadley
-made an excuse to leave him and Miss Brandon together, and walked away
-in the direction of the Grange, remaining absent for two or three
-hours.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In the mean time, rumours spread, and the newspapers announced that
-there were threatening signs in the manufacturing districts; that
-great meetings of artisans were taking place in public and in private;
-that the people determined to have what they called 'a holiday;' and
-that some great attempt at popular insurrection was contemplated by
-those immense masses, which, congregated within a very narrow space,
-have the means of rapid communication ever open, and whose amount of
-intelligence is sufficient to make them feel the ills they suffer, and
-the wrongs they are subject to, without showing them the best means of
-relieving the one or casting off the other. The prompt and decided
-measures of government, too, were detailed in the public prints; the
-march of different regiments was mentioned; and some portions were
-displayed of the general plan for suppressing any outbreak, which had
-been formed by the great master of strategy, sufficient to prove to
-any person not infatuated by false hopes, that the movements of the
-people would be effectually checked as soon as ever they transgressed
-the bounds of law.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">To most of the little party assembled at Brandon, these reports came
-like the roar of the stormy ocean to persons calmly seated by the
-domestic hearth. They were far removed from the scene of probable
-strife; they had full confidence in the power and the wisdom of
-government. There were no manufactories for many miles around; and the
-nearest point at which there was any great congregation of artisans
-lay at some twenty or thirty miles' distance, where there were both
-mines and potteries. Nevertheless, Eda observed that her uncle read
-with the deepest attention everything that referred to the discontent
-of the manufacturing population. She saw, too, that he was uneasy;
-that there was a restlessness and an impatience about him which she
-could not account for; and she pointed it out to Dudley, who remarked
-it also. &quot;I have not seen him in this state for years,&quot; she said; &quot;and
-I cannot help thinking that something of great importance must be
-weighing upon his mind.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have heard,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;that at one time he took a very warm,
-I might almost say vehement, interest in political matters, and went
-through a contested election in the north, as the advocate of the most
-extreme pretensions of the people. I have cause to remember that
-period, dearest Eda, for with that election commenced the ruin of my
-poor father. He had represented the town for many years in parliament,
-when your uncle started against him upon principles almost republican.
-As they had been friends from boyhood, although the contest was
-carried on very fiercely by their several supporters, it was conducted
-with courtesy and kindness by themselves--as much courtesy and
-kindness, indeed, as could exist under such circumstances between men
-of the most opposite political principles. My father was returned, but
-some of the electors thought fit to petition against him, accusing his
-agents of the most extensive bribery and corruption. As the population
-was large and very equally divided in opinion, the expenses of the
-election itself had been enormous. Innumerable witnesses were brought
-before the committee on both sides; the investigation lasted for
-months; the most eminent barristers were retained by enormous fees;
-and though it ended in my father retaining his seat, an outlay of
-nearly thirty thousand pounds was incurred by the contest and the
-petition. To meet this expense, he proposed to mortgage the estates;
-when your worthy uncle, feeling, perhaps, that his supporters had not
-treated my father very well, offered to take the proposed mortgage at
-a low rate of interest. It was necessary, however, that the title
-deeds should be closely examined, and they were submitted to the
-inspection of his lawyer, a scoundrel of the name of Sherborne. This
-man, who was as keen and acute as he was unprincipled, discovered a
-flaw in the title; and instead of merely advising your uncle not to
-take the mortgage, he communicated the fact to another party, and a
-long law-suit was the consequence, which ended in our being stripped
-of the property which my grandfather had purchased and paid for. My
-father was now loaded with a very large debt besides, which he had no
-means of paying, and his spirits and his health sunk and gave way at
-once. In these circumstances, Sir Arthur Adelon acted with a degree of
-kindness which I can never forget. He purchased a very small property
-which had descended to me from my mother, at more than its real value,
-and did not even wait till I was of age to make the transfer before he
-paid the money. I had thus the means of comforting and soothing my
-father during an enforced absence from England, and the long period of
-sickness which preceded his death; and the moment I was of age I
-assigned the property to your uncle. Though I had never seen him
-myself, I wrote to thank him, at my father's death; but he did not
-answer my letter, and, what is somewhat strange, he has never adverted
-to the subject since I have been here, perhaps thinking rightly, that
-it must be a very painful one to me. I have been led into a long
-story,&quot; he continued, &quot;when I only wished to explain to you that Sir
-Arthur is known to feel very intensely upon the subject of the
-people's rights and claims. That he sympathises deeply with these poor
-men in the manufacturing districts, there can be no doubt; and I
-rather think you will find that the anxiety and uneasiness he displays
-are to be attributed to the interest he feels in them.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda mused, but did not reply. She was deeply attached to her uncle,
-who for many years had acted as a father towards her; but yet she
-might know his character better than Dudley, and might entertain
-reasonable doubts as to his being moved by the feelings which that
-gentleman ascribed to him. She did not express those doubts, however,
-and the conversation took another turn.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The fifth day of Dudley's stay at Brandon was a Sunday, and it
-commenced with a tremendous storm of wind and rain. The nearest
-village church was, as I have shown, at some distance; and Sir Arthur
-Adelon, though he courteously proposed to order the carriage to carry
-any of the party, who might desire it, to the morning's service, added
-some remarks upon the state of the weather and the likelihood of the
-servants getting very wet, which prevented any one from accepting his
-offer. A room had been fitted up at Brandon, and decorated as a
-chapel; and at the usual hour, Mr. Filmer appeared, to officiate in
-the celebration of mass.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda Brandon was not present; for, as she informed Dudley, she had
-promised her mother, before her death, never to be present at the
-services of the Roman Catholic church. Lord Hadley and his tutor,
-however, with less rigid notions, accompanied Sir Arthur and a number
-of his servants to the chapel; and somewhat to Dudley's surprise, Mr.
-Clive and his daughter also appeared soon after, notwithstanding the
-tempest that was raging without.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley felt a reverence for religion in all its forms; the worship of
-God was to him always the worship of God; and though he did not affect
-to adore in a wafer the real presence of his Saviour, he behaved with
-gravity and decorum through the whole ceremony. Lord Hadley, on the
-contrary, treated the whole matter somewhat lightly; paid little
-attention to the offices of the church; and kept his eyes fixed,
-during a great part of the service, upon Helen Clive, with a look
-which was not altogether pleasing to his tutor. Nor did it seem so to
-Edgar Adelon either; for when he glanced towards Lord Hadley for a
-moment, his colour became suddenly heightened, and his eyes flashed
-fire, giving to Dudley, for the first time, a key to what was passing
-in his bosom.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">After mass was concluded, Sir Arthur took Clive familiarly by the arm,
-and walking with him into the library, begged him not to think of
-returning to the Grange with Helen till the storm had passed. Mr.
-Clive declined to stay, however, saying that he did not feel the
-weather himself, and that, as he had come up in his own little
-sociable, Helen would be under cover as she went back. The day passed
-as other days had done; but during the afternoon Mr. Filmer paid
-particular attention to Dudley, and was altogether more cheerful and
-entertaining than he had been for some time, as if the services of his
-religion formed a real pleasure to him, the effect of which remained
-for several hours after they were over.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">The morning of the second day of the week once more broke calm and
-clear, and Dudley was musing in his room on much that had lately
-passed. From all that he had observed the day before, he feared that
-the conduct of Lord Hadley towards Helen Clive was not that which he
-could approve; and although he might have regretted much to leave the
-society of Eda at that moment, he would not have suffered any personal
-feeling to prevent him from urging an immediate removal from what he
-conceived a dangerous position, if he had not recollected that the
-young nobleman was so nearly of age as to be very likely to resist any
-interference. He was considering, therefore, how he should act, when
-he was again visited in his room by Mr. Filmer, for the purpose of
-engaging him to take a stroll in the fresh morning air.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">With many men, the effect of intense thought and mental anxiety is
-very great upon the mere body; and Dudley felt heated and almost
-feverish. He believed, too, that in the course of their ramble he
-might, perhaps, obtain some farther information regarding his pupil's
-conduct from the priest; for he well knew that the clergy of the
-Romish church look upon it almost as a matter of duty to ascertain the
-facts of every transaction in which any of their flock are concerned.
-He therefore agreed to the proposal at once; and after they had issued
-forth into the park, pondered, even while they were conversing, upon
-the best means of introducing the topic of which he was desirous of
-speaking.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As they walked on, detached masses of cloud, left by the storm of the
-preceding day, floated heavily overhead; and the shadows and the
-gleams crossed the landscape rapidly, bringing out many points of
-beauty, which were not observable either under the broad sunshine of
-summer, or the cold, gray expanse of the wintry sky.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The scenery here is certainly very lovely,&quot; said Dudley; &quot;and I think
-that of the park peculiarly so. It is more varied, as well as more
-extensive, than any park that I have seen in England.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, it is very beautiful,&quot; replied the priest, in a somewhat
-common-place tone; &quot;and, indeed, the whole property is a very fine
-one. There are few heiresses in England who can boast of such an
-estate as Miss Brandon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Miss Brandon!&quot; said Dudley, in a tone of some surprise. &quot;Do you mean
-to say that she is the owner of this beautiful place? I thought it was
-the property of her uncle.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The priest turned a short, quick glance to his face, and then replied,
-in a very marked manner, but yet with a well-satisfied smile, &quot;I am
-glad to hear you thought so, my young friend; but in answer to your
-question, this property is Miss Brandon's. Sir Arthur is only here as
-her guardian. It was much her mother's wish that she should live with
-him till her marriage; but, at the same time, she expressed a strong
-desire that her principal residence should be at Brandon. Sir Arthur
-is a very conscientious man, and he consequently, having undertaken
-the task, carries out his sister's views more fully than most men
-would be inclined to do. The bulk of his own property is in Yorkshire,
-as I believe you know; but he is not there more than a month in the
-year. The rest of his time is spent at Brandon or in London.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;May I ask,&quot; said Dudley, &quot;what there could be pleasing to you in my
-believing this property to be Sir Arthur Adelon's?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Mr. Filmer smiled. &quot;Perhaps,&quot; he said, &quot;it might be more courteous to
-leave your question unanswered than to answer it; but nevertheless I
-will not affect reserve. I look upon it, in ordinary cases, to be
-rather a misfortune than otherwise for a young lady to inherit a large
-fortune. There are three results, each very common. Sometimes her
-relations and friends arrange and bring about a marriage for her with
-a man perhaps the least suited to her on the face of the earth; some
-coarse and wealthy brute; some dissolute peer. At other times, she
-becomes the prey of a designing sharper; a man probably without
-honour, honesty, or principle: low in birth and mind as in fortunes.
-Or if she escapes these perils, and reaches the age of discretion
-unmarried, from a knowledge of the risks she has escaped, she is
-filled with suspicions of every gentleman who approaches her; doubts
-the motives of all who profess to love her, and fancies that her
-wealth, and not her heart, is the object sought. I know not which of
-these results is most to be deprecated.&quot; He made a pause, and then
-continued, with a smile: &quot;That you did not know the property to belong
-to her, shows that you can be influenced by no motives but such as
-must be gratifying to herself.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley cast down his eyes and mused for several moments. He was not at
-all aware that his conduct towards Eda had been such as to display the
-secret of their hearts to even the keenest eye; and he was surprised,
-and not well pleased, to find that it had been penetrated at once by
-the shrewd priest. As he did not answer, Mr. Filmer went on, with a
-frank and even friendly tone: &quot;I need not tell you, Mr. Dudley, after
-what has fallen from me,&quot; he said, &quot;that I wish you success, not with
-any of the rash enthusiasm of a young man in favour of a friend, but
-upon calm and due deliberation. You are a gentleman by birth and
-education; a man of high honour and feeling I sincerely believe you to
-be, and this Lord Hadley is in no degree fitted for her. Light and
-volatile as a withered leaf; with no fixed principles, and no strong
-religious feelings; full of unbridled passions, and appetites that
-have been pampered from his boyhood; the effect of wealth and high
-station, those two great touchstones of the human character, will be
-disastrous to him. He is in the high road now to become a confirmed
-libertine, and even at the present moment is labouring to destroy the
-peace of a happy family far more ancient and respectable than his own,
-and to introduce discord into a peaceful neighbourhood, where,
-happily, we have few such as himself to stir up the angry feelings of
-our nature.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You have touched upon a subject, my dear sir,&quot; replied Dudley, who
-could not help feeling gratified by many of the expressions he had
-used, &quot;in regard to which I much wished to speak with you; and I was
-meditating upon the very point when you came into my room. I have
-remarked, for some days past, that Lord Hadley has been much absent
-from the house at which he is visiting, so much so as almost to be
-discourteous; and yesterday, in the chapel, I could not help observing
-indications of feelings which I regretted much to see, and in regard
-to which you have confirmed my suspicions.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;His conduct there was very reprehensible,&quot; said Mr. Filmer, in a
-grave tone. &quot;He spends the time during his long absences from Brandon
-either in visiting at Mr. Clive's house, or in lying in wait for poor
-Helen in her walks. His object is not to be mistaken by any one of
-ordinary sagacity and knowledge of the world; but yet, Clive, though a
-very sensible man, does not perceive it. You must have remarked how
-blind parents usually are under such circumstances. He looks upon Lord
-Hadley as a mere boy, and a frank and agreeable one. He thinks that
-his visits are to himself; and the young gentleman, with more art than
-one would have supposed him capable of, takes care to go down to the
-Grange when he knows that the master is out, and has some excuse ready
-for waiting till he returns.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;From what you tell me,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;it seems absolutely
-necessary that one of two courses should be pursued: either I must
-immediately endeavour to induce Lord Hadley to remove from Brandon--in
-which case I am afraid he would resist, as in a few weeks he will be
-of age--or else Mr. Clive must be warned, and take such measures as
-may put a stop to this young man's visits.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not know that either is necessary,&quot; answered Mr. Firmer; &quot;nor
-would either have the effect that you anticipate. Lord Hadley would
-not go, or would return to pursue the same course when he is his own
-master; and in regard to warning Clive, I should have done it before,
-had I not known and felt that it might be dangerous to do so. He is a
-man of a very strong and hasty spirit: resolute, bold, determined, and
-easily moved by anything that looks like indignity, to bursts of
-passion of which you can form no idea, never having seen him roused.
-Neither have I any fear whatsoever for Helen. She is guarded not only
-by high principle, and a pure and noble heart, but by other feelings,
-which are often a woman's greatest safeguard. Lord Hadley will then
-find his designs in vain; and I do not think he would venture to
-insult her in any way.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley mused for a moment, having learned more of his pupil during
-their journey on the Continent than he had known when he undertook the
-task of guiding him. &quot;I do not know,&quot; he said, in a doubtful tone: &quot;I
-do not know.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He had better not,&quot; said Mr. Filmer, sternly; &quot;but be sure, my dear
-young friend, that there shall be an eye, not easily blinded, on all
-his actions. The interest you take in this matter raises you more
-highly in my esteem than ever; and I will own, that I could not help
-drawing a comparison, very unfavourable to this young lord, between
-your conduct and his in the chapel yesterday. Reverence to the
-ceremonies of religion is due even to decency, if not to principle;
-but there was something more in your demeanour, which gave me good
-hope that if you would sometimes attend to the various services of our
-church, receive even but slight instruction in its doctrines, cast
-from your mind the prejudices of education, and meditate unbiassed
-over the principal differences between our church and yours--of
-course, not without full explanation of all our views upon those
-dogmas which are so erroneously stated by most Protestant
-writers--your conduct gave me good hope, I say, that under these
-circumstances you might be regained to that true faith of which many
-of your ancestors were the greatest ornaments.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley smiled. The secret was now before him. The priest had really
-conceived the design of converting him; and his full and strong
-attachment to the Protestant religion, his unhesitating condemnation
-in his own heart of the errors of the Romish church, made the very
-idea ridiculous in his eyes. &quot;I fear, my dear sir,&quot; he replied, as the
-slight smile passed away, &quot;that your expectation is altogether vain.
-There is no chance whatever, let me assure you, of my ever abandoning
-the religion in which I have been brought up.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Do not be too sure, my friend,&quot; replied Mr. Filmer, smiling also; &quot;I
-have seen more obstinate heretics than yourself brought to a knowledge
-of the truth. I do not despair of you at all. You have a mind free
-from many prejudices which affect others of your religion. You are not
-at all bigoted or intolerant; and you view these matters so calmly,
-and yet devoutly, that with my firm convictions, after much study and
-thought, I cannot help thinking, if you will but look into the matter
-fully, you will arrive at a just conclusion.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I trust, undoubtedly, that such will be the case,&quot; was Dudley's
-answer; &quot;but I believe, my dear sir, that I have arrived at a just
-conclusion already. It has not been without study either, nor from the
-showing of Protestant divines, but rather from the works of your own
-church, many of which I have examined with great care and attention,
-and which have only strengthened me in my convictions. The more
-impartial a man is in forming his opinions, and the less vehement and
-passionate he is in their assertion, the more firm he is likely to be
-when they are formed, and the more steady in their maintenance.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">They had by this time reached the other side of the park, and passing
-through a little wicket gate, were entering the road beyond the walls.
-Mr. Filmer's lips were compressed as he listened, and he seemed to
-struggle against some strong emotion; but just at that moment the
-tramp of numerous feet was heard, and looking up the road, they saw a
-multitude of people, in the dress of country labourers and working
-men, advancing at a quick pace, two and two, in an orderly and
-decorous manner. Mr. Filmer and his companion paused to let them pass;
-and as they went by, talking together, Filmer could not help
-remarking, that in the countenances of many there was a stern and
-thoughtful, and in others an enthusiastic and excited expression,
-which seemed to indicate that they were engaged in no ordinary
-occupation. They passed on without taking any notice of the two
-gentlemen, although two or three times Dudley heard the name of Sir
-Arthur Adelon mentioned amongst them; and when the last had gone by,
-he inquired, not unwilling to change the matter of their conversation,
-&quot;Who can these men be, and what can be their object in this curious
-sort of array?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I really do not know,&quot; answered Mr. Filmer; &quot;but it would not
-surprise me if they were Chartists.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Have you many of them here?&quot; asked Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, yes! they are very numerous,&quot; replied the priest, &quot;both amongst
-the peasantry and the townspeople, and these may very likely be going
-to some of their meetings on the downs. They are all very orderly and
-quiet in our county, however; and, indeed, form the best behaved and
-most respectable part of our population. A great enthusiasm is very
-often extremely useful. The men who feel it are often restrained
-thereby from anything low or base, or degrading to the great principle
-which moves them. Such, my young friend, ought to be the power of
-religion upon the heart; and such it is, as you must have yourself
-seen, with a great many of the ecclesiastics of the church to which I
-belong. Base and bad men may be found in every country, and will
-disgrace every creed; but I cannot help thinking you will find, if you
-will really read and study some works which I will lend you, that the
-natural tendency of every doctrine of the Catholic religion is to
-elevate and purify the hearts of men, and to mortify and subdue every
-corrupt affection. I know,&quot; he continued, &quot;that the exact reverse has
-been stated by Protestant writers, but they have been mistaken--I will
-not use a harsher term--and will only add, study, and you will see.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will certainly read the books with great pleasure,&quot; replied Dudley;
-&quot;but at the same time I must not lead you to expect for one moment
-that they will make any change in my opinions.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He spoke in the most decided tone; and Mr. Filmer replied, with a
-slight contraction of the brows, and a very grave and serious manner,
-&quot;Then I fear your dearest hopes will be disappointed.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley felt somewhat indignant at the implied threat; but he was
-prevented from answering by the appearance of Lord Hadley, who came
-towards them, not from the side of Brandon, and who, instantly joining
-them, returned in their company towards the house, affecting an
-exuberant degree of gaiety, and laughing and jesting in a manner which
-harmonized ill with the more serious thoughts of his two companions.
-The subject of the mass, at which they had been present the day
-before, was accidentally introduced in the course of their
-conversation, which thence deviated to the ceremonies of the Roman
-Catholic religion in other countries; and the young peer said,
-laughing, &quot;If it were not for its mummeries, Mr. Filmer, I should
-think it a very good religion too, a capital religion. It is so
-pleasant to think that one can shuffle off all one's peccadilloes on
-the shoulders of another man, that I wonder who would not be a Roman
-Catholic, if he could.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A scowl, momentary, but fiend-like, crossed the countenance of the
-priest; and Dudley, who had observed it, was surprised to hear him
-say, the next moment, with a bland smile, &quot;You are a little mistaken
-in your views, my lord; and I think if you would examine the subject
-well, under a competent instructor, you would not find it so difficult
-a thing to be a Roman Catholic as you imagine.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I should prefer an instructress,&quot; answered Lord Hadley, with a laugh;
-but Mr. Filmer did not reply, finding it, perhaps, somewhat difficult
-to guide his arguments between two men of such totally different
-characters and views as the young lord and his tutor. The rest of
-their walk back through the park passed almost in silence; but from
-various indications Dudley judged that the previous gaiety of Lord
-Hadley had been more affected than real.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XIII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">To a person inexperienced in the ways of life and in human character,
-it might seem strange that a man should pursue one woman with every
-appearance of passion, and should yet, at the same time, not only seek
-the love of another, but also entertain some feeling of jealousy at
-any sign of favour for a rival. But yet this is the case every day,
-and it was so with Lord Hadley. Had he been asked whether he admired
-Helen Clive or Eda Brandon most, he would have replied, if he answered
-sincerely, &quot;Helen Clive;&quot; but she was in his eyes merely a plaything,
-to be possessed, to sport with, and to cast away; while Eda was looked
-upon in a very different light--to add wealth to his wealth; to
-flatter his vanity by the display of her beauty and her grace as his
-wife; to gratify his pride by uniting the blood of the Brandons, one
-of the oldest families in the land, to that of the Hadleys, who, to
-say the truth, required not a little to graft their young plant upon a
-more ancient stock. Whatever feelings he entertained for her certainly
-did not reach the height of passion; but yet, when he was beside her,
-he evidently sought to win regard, and it was plain that he by no
-means liked the preference she showed for Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur Adelon saw that something had gone amiss with his young and
-noble guest; and while they were sitting at luncheon, with not the
-most placable of feelings existing on the part of Lord Hadley towards
-his tutor, Sir Arthur was considering what could be the cause of the
-coldness and haughtiness of tone which he remarked, when a servant
-entering announced to Mr. Dudley that a gentleman of the name of
-Norries wished to speak with him for a few moments in the library.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur instantly turned deadly pale; but recovering himself in a
-moment, he started up before his guest could reply, saying, &quot;I beg you
-ten thousand pardons, Mr. Dudley, but I have something of much
-importance to say to Mr. Norries, and if you will permit me I will
-take up his time for a moment or two while you finish your luncheon,
-as I have got business which will call me out immediately, and perhaps
-your conversation with him may be somewhat long.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley was replying that he really did not know what business Mr.
-Norries could have with him, as he knew no such person, when, with a
-familiar nod, Sir Arthur said, &quot;I will not detain him three minutes,&quot;
-and hurried out of the room, followed by the keen, cold eye of the
-priest.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Who is Mr. Norries, father?&quot; inquired Eda Brandon. &quot;I never heard of
-him before.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;An old acquaintance of Sir Arthur's,&quot; replied Mr. Filmer, in a
-common-place tone. &quot;He was once a lawyer, I believe, and too honest a
-man for a profession from which he retired some time ago.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Not two minutes elapsed before Sir Arthur Adelon was in the room
-again. His conference with Mr. Norries had been short indeed; but it
-seemed to have been satisfactory, for when he returned his lip wore a
-smile, although his face was now a good deal flushed, as if from some
-recent and great excitement.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You will find Norries in the library, Mr. Dudley,&quot; said the baronet,
-as soon as he entered; and while Dudley rose and walked to the door,
-Sir Arthur seated himself at the table and fell into deep thought.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In the mean time Dudley proceeded to the room to which he had been
-directed, and found there, waiting his arrival, the same powerful,
-hard-featured man whom I have before described.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The keen gray eyes of Norries were fixed upon the door, and when
-Dudley entered a slight flush passed over his cheek. &quot;Mr. Dudley,&quot; he
-said; &quot;there is no mistaking you. You are very like your father.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I believe I am, Mr. Norries,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;pray be seated. You
-were well acquainted with my poor father, I presume.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, I had not that honour, sir,&quot; answered Norries. &quot;I have seen him
-more than once, however, as the partner of Mr. Sherborne, the
-Yorkshire solicitor of Sir Arthur Adelon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley's face grew stern, and he made a movement as if to rise, but
-refrained, merely saying, &quot;Mr. Sherborne's name, sir, is an unpleasant
-one to me. I should not like to speak my opinion of him to his
-partner; but were he still living, I should undoubtedly let him hear
-it in person.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I was his partner, sir, in business, but not in rascality,&quot; replied
-Norries, &quot;the full extent of which I did not know till he was dead.
-Nature did not make me for a lawyer, Mr. Dudley; and the result of my
-study of the profession has been to show me that, either by errors in
-their original formation, or by perversions which have crept in
-through the misinterpretation of judges, the laws of this land do not
-afford security against injustice, redress for wrongs committed,
-protection to the innocent, punishment to the guilty, or equity in any
-of the relations between man and man. With this view of the case, I
-could not remain in a profession which aided to carry out, in an
-iniquitous manner, iniquitous laws, and I therefore quitted it. Before
-I did so, however, it became my task to examine all the papers in the
-office of my deceased partner and myself, many of which I had never
-seen or heard of before. In so doing, sir, I found some which affected
-your father; and amongst others, several letters of his, apparently of
-importance. The latter you shall have; the other papers, relating to a
-contested election in which he took part, are at present necessary to
-myself.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I feel much obliged to you, Mr. Norries,&quot; replied Dudley. &quot;Of course
-I shall feel glad to have my poor father's letters. In regard to the
-other papers relative to the election, as that has been a business
-long settled, they can be of no service to me, and I do by no means
-wish to recall old grievances. I am now in the house of my father's
-opponent on that occasion, and I am well aware that he then acted
-honourably, and afterwards most liberally and kindly to my poor
-father.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Norries knit his brows, and shut his teeth tight, but he suffered no
-observation to escape him; and Dudley continued, saying, &quot;I do not,
-therefore, wish for one moment to revive any unpleasant memories
-connected with that contest, and think the papers referring to it just
-as well in your hands as in mine. Was this the only matter you wished
-to speak to me upon!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have nothing farther to say, Mr. Dudley,&quot; replied Norries, rising,
-&quot;but that I will in a few days send your father's letters to you at
-any place you please to mention.&quot; And after having received Mr.
-Dudley's address at St. John's College, Cambridge, he took his leave.
-Once he stopped for a moment as he was going out--thought, muttered
-something to himself, but without adding anything more, departed.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">On quitting Brandon House, Norries made his way straight to the avenue
-which I have mentioned once or twice before; and walking hurriedly
-down under the shade of the trees, he turned into a path which led
-through the copse on the right to a stile over the wall. His direction
-was towards the Grange, but he did not follow exactly the same road
-which had been pursued by Edgar Adelon. About a hundred yards up the
-lane there lay the entrance of another narrow footway which was sunk
-deep between two banks, with a hedge at the top, forming an
-exceedingly unpleasant and dangerous cut in the way of any horseman
-following the fox-hounds; and indeed there was a tradition of two
-gentlemen having broken their necks there some fifty years ago, in
-consequence of having come suddenly upon this unseen hollow way, in
-leaping the hedge above. Along it, however, Mr. Norries now sped with
-a quick step, till it opened out upon a little green, where stood two
-cottages in a complete state of ruin, to arrive at which more easily
-from the high road, the path had probably been cut in former years. On
-the other side of the green, mounting over the bank and passing
-through the fields, was a more open footway, with a stile at the
-bottom of the descent, upon which was sitting, when Norries came up, a
-short, slightly-made man, with a sharp face, and keen, eager, black
-eyes. &quot;Well, Nichols,&quot; said Norries, approaching, &quot;I have not kept you
-long.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, no,&quot; answered the other man, quickly; &quot;but what news--what news,
-Mr. Norries? What does he say?</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why he will come, Nichols, whenever we give the word,&quot; answered
-Norries, &quot;without hesitation or delay.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed!&quot; exclaimed the other; &quot;better news than I thought. I feared
-he was shirking, from what he said last time, or else that he would
-take so long to consider that we should lose our opportunity.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I took means to quicken his decision,&quot; said Norries. &quot;But let us get
-on, Nichols, for I expect Conway and Mac Dermot to join me at Clive's
-for a consultation; and we must then separate till to-morrow night.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Is Clive's a safe place?&quot; asked Nichols, following, as the other
-strode on rapidly. &quot;He is dead against us, you know, Norries.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But he would not betray any man,&quot; replied the other; &quot;and besides, he
-is out at the town, and will not be back for two or three hours.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Nothing farther was said till they reached the Grange, where, going in
-without ceremony, Norries put his head into Helen's drawing-room,
-saying, &quot;I can go into the up-stairs room which I had before, Helen
-dear, I suppose?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, certainly!&quot; answered Helen. &quot;Everything is there just as you left
-it; but my father is not at home, and will not return for some hours.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That does not matter,&quot; answered Norries; and calling one of the
-maids, he told her, if any gentlemen came to inquire for him, to show
-them up stairs to him; and mounting the steps, he led the person
-called Nichols into the room where his conference had been held with
-Sir Arthur Adelon. Helen in the mean time remained below, unoccupied,
-apparently, with anything but thought, for though there was a book
-open before her, she seldom looked at it. She was seated with her face
-to the window, which commanded a view of the garden, and through the
-trees across the river to the opposite side of the little dell in
-which it flowed. With one arm in a sling, and the other resting across
-the book upon the table, she gazed forth from the window, watching
-that opposite bank with an anxious, almost apprehensive expression of
-countenance, and if she dropped her eyes to the page for a moment, she
-raised them again instantly. Hardly three minutes had passed after
-Norries' arrival, when a figure was indistinctly seen coming over the
-slope, and Helen, starting up, exclaimed, &quot;There he is again! This is
-really too bad. I am glad my uncle is here!&quot; But before the words were
-well uttered, the figure came more fully in sight, and Helen saw that
-it was that of a perfect stranger. Another equally unknown to her,
-followed close behind the first; and she sat down again, murmuring
-with a slight smile, &quot;I frighten myself needlessly. But it is really
-very hard to be so treated. I do not know what to do. If I were to
-tell my father what he had said, and how he had treated me, he would
-kill him on the spot; and if I told Edgar all, they would fight, I am
-sure. Poor, dear, generous Edgar! I can see he is very uneasy, and yet
-I dare not speak. It is very strange that Father Peter should treat
-the matter with such indifference. I believe my best way would be to
-tell my uncle.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As she thus went on murmuring broken sentences, the two men whom she
-had seen approached the house, rang the bell, and Helen could hear
-their heavy footsteps mount the stairs.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">She had turned her head towards the door when they came into the
-house; but the moment that her eyes were directed towards the window
-again, she saw the figure of Lord Hadley, coming down the path with a
-proud, light, self-confident step, and instantly starting up once
-more, she closed the book, and ran out of the room. A maid was in the
-passage, and in an eager and frightened tone, the beautiful girl
-exclaimed, &quot;Tell him exactly what I said, Margaret. If he asks for me,
-say I will not see him. Make no excuses, but tell him plainly and at
-once, I will not.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That I will, Miss Helen,&quot; answered the woman, heartily. &quot;Shall I ask
-Ben the ploughman to thrash him if he won't go away?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">If Helen had uttered the reply that first rose in her mind, her words
-would have been, &quot;I wish to heaven you would!&quot; but she refrained, and
-saying, &quot;No; no violence, Margaret,&quot; she ran up stairs to her own
-room, and seated herself near a little table, after locking the door.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">What passed below she could not hear; but between that chamber and the
-next was a partition of old dark oak, not carved into panels, as in
-the rooms below, but running in long polished planks from the ceiling
-to the floor, with the edges rounded into mouldings, for the sake of
-some slight degree of ornament. They were tightly joined together, but
-still the words of any one speaking in a loud tone in the one room,
-could be heard in the other; and it seemed to Helen, from the pitch to
-which two or three of the voices were elevated, that one of the party
-at least in her uncle's chamber was somewhat hard of hearing. Her
-thoughts for a moment or two after she entered, were too much agitated
-for her to pay any particular attention; but all remained still below,
-and she said to herself, &quot;He has gone in to wait for my father, or to
-sit down and rest himself, as he pretends, I dare say. I wonder how a
-gentleman can have recourse to such false excuses, and here I must be
-kept a prisoner till he chooses to go.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As she thus thought, some words from the neighbouring room caught her
-ear, and instantly fixed her attention. It was without design she
-listened: by an impulse that was irresistible. Her cheek turned paler
-than it was before; her lips parted with eagerness and apparent
-anxiety; and she put her hand to her brow, murmuring, &quot;Good heaven! I
-hope my father has no share in all this! I will go down upon my knees
-to him, and beg him not to meddle with it.&quot; But the next moment other
-words were spoken, and the look of terror passed away from her
-beautiful face like a dark cloud from a summer sky. Then again the
-name of Sir Arthur Adelon was mentioned frequently, and again the
-cloud came over Helen's fair brow; but now there was surprise mingled
-with fear, for it was marvellous to her, that a man of great wealth,
-station, and respectability, should be implicated so deeply in the
-schemes which she heard.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">About half an hour passed in this manner, and then the maid came up
-and tapped at her door, saying, &quot;He is gone, Miss Helen:&quot; and the fair
-prisoner, glad to be released, opened her door and descended to the
-room below. &quot;What shall I do? How shall I act?&quot; was Helen's first
-thought. &quot;To betray them to justice I cannot, I must not; but yet it
-is very horrible. There will be terrible bloodshed! And Sir Arthur
-Adelon, too; who could ever have suspected that he would join them?
-Oh, I wish he would be warned! I will tell Eda. She has more power
-over him than any one, and he may be persuaded to refrain. My uncle
-will have his course; nothing will turn him, I am sure, and he will
-ruin himself utterly in the end; but I do hope and trust he will have
-no influence over my father. Oh, no! the men said he would have nought
-to do with it. But hark!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There were steps heard descending. Two or three people quitted the
-house, and after a lapse of a few minutes, Norries entered the room
-with a calm, even cheerful countenance, and seated himself beside
-Helen.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What is the matter, little pet?&quot; he said. &quot;You look sad and anxious.
-Is your arm paining you, my dear?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no!&quot; replied Helen; &quot;it has never pained me at all since it was
-set. I think it is quite well now.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Who was that came in about half an hour ago?&quot; asked Norries, somewhat
-abruptly. &quot;I heard the bell ring, and a man's foot in the passage.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It was Lord Hadley,&quot; answered Helen, colouring a little at the very
-mention of his name. &quot;He came in to to wait for my father, I suppose,
-or upon some such excuse.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;My dear Helen,&quot; said Norries, laying his hand quietly upon hers,
-&quot;have nought to do with him, see him as little as possible; for though
-to suspect you, my dear child, of anything that is wrong, is quite out
-of the question for those who know you, yet the frequent visits of men
-who, in our bad state of society, hold a rank far superior to your
-own, and especially of such a dissolute, thoughtless youth as this,
-may injure your fair fame with those who do not know you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The kindly tone in which he spoke encouraged Helen; and looking up in
-his face, she said, &quot;This is a subject on which I much wish to speak
-to you, for I dare not tell my father. I did not see Lord Hadley, my
-dear uncle, for I went to my own room the moment I saw him coming, and
-ordered the maid to tell him, if he asked for me, that I <i>would not</i>
-
-see him, in those plain terms.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed!&quot; exclaimed Norries, now much interested; &quot;then he must have
-done something very wrong, Helen.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He has said things to me which I cannot repeat, my dear uncle,&quot; she
-replied, with a glowing face. &quot;He wanted to persuade me to leave my
-father's house, and go away to London with him; and--and--he has
-behaved very ill to me, in short.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Did he dare?&quot; exclaimed her uncle, with his eyes flashing, and his
-cheek turning red. &quot;Your father must know this, Helen.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no, no!&quot; cried Helen Clive; &quot;I dare not tell him, indeed. I am
-sure if he knew all he would kill him on the spot. You know how very
-violent he is when he is made angry, and how angry he would be if he
-knew I had been insulted as I have been.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do know it well, Helen,&quot; replied Norries, thoughtfully, &quot;and I will
-acknowledge yours is a difficult position. You are no coquette, my
-dear child, to give this man any encouragement, even at the first,
-before he had shown himself in his true colours; and I feel sure you
-have done your best to keep him from the house.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed I have,&quot; replied Helen Clive; &quot;I have never liked him from the
-first, though I felt gratitude for the kindness which I received from
-him and his friend Mr. Dudley, and expressed it. But oh! how different
-has Mr. Dudley's conduct ever been. It was to him, indeed, I owed my
-safety, though the other was kind also at the time; but the very night
-when they had brought me here, he looked at me in a way--I cannot
-describe it--but it made me feel very uncomfortable.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And Mr. Dudley has been always kind?&quot; asked her uncle.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot tell you how kind,&quot; answered Helen. &quot;His manner was so
-gentle, so like a gentleman; and he seemed to feel so much for me in
-every way, both when he was extricating me from the heap of stones and
-earth, and afterwards when I was anxious to let my father know what
-had happened, that I can never forget it; and then, when I saw him the
-day after, there was such a difference between his conduct and Lord
-Hadley's, that in any moment of danger I would have clung to him like
-a brother, while I shrunk from the other's very look. I did not know
-why then; but I know now.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is like the race of Dudley,&quot; replied Norries, and leaning his head
-upon his hand, he fell into deep and seemingly bitter thought. &quot;How
-men may be led into great errors!&quot; he exclaimed at length. &quot;Helen,
-your father must know of all this; but I will tell him, and tell him
-why you dared not. That in itself will act as a check upon him; for
-with high hearts like his, to see the consequences of their passions
-is to regret them. But fear not, little pet, I will take care to tell
-him when he will have time for calm thought before he can act. Helen,
-it must be! A daughter must not show a want of confidence in her
-father.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I would not for the world,&quot; replied Helen Clive; &quot;but oh! take care,
-my dear uncle, for I tremble to think of the consequences.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will take care, poor thing,&quot; said Norries; &quot;although, dear Helen,
-we must never think of consequences where a matter of right and duty
-is concerned; and now farewell.&quot; Thus saying, he took his departure,
-and left her, with an anxious mind and agitated heart, to await the
-coming events.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XIV.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">The afternoon had been clear, and even warm. Every cloud had passed
-away from the sky; and when, about a quarter to six, Eda Brandon
-retired to her own room to dress for dinner, the sun, set about a
-quarter of an hour before, had left the sky all studded with stars.
-She was fond of seeing the heavens, and the curtains of her windows
-were not drawn; so that while she sat at her toilette table, with the
-maid dressing her beautiful hair, she could gaze out at the orbs of
-light in the firmament, which was spread like a scroll written with
-characters of fire before her eyes.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It was very dark, however, for--as the reader learned in moons will
-comprehend from what was said at the beginning of this work--the fair
-planet of the night had not yet risen; and as Eda continued to gaze,
-there suddenly shot up through the obscurity what seemed a bright,
-rushing ball of fire; then pausing, suspended as it were, in the air
-for a moment, it burst into a thousand glittering sparks, which
-descended slowly towards the earth again.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What can that be?&quot; exclaimed Eda. '&quot;La! ma'am, it's a rocket,&quot; said
-the maid. &quot;I shouldn't wonder if it was some of those Chartist
-people's signals. They are making a great stir about here just now, I
-can tell you, Miss Eda; and I am getting horribly afraid for what will
-happen next.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Do you mean to say that such things are taking place in this
-neighbourhood?&quot; inquired Eda, in some surprise. &quot;I think you must be
-confounding the reports from the manufacturing districts.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! dear, no, ma'am!&quot; replied the maid. &quot;My brother, who is servant
-with Mr. Gaspey, told me yesterday, that he had seen full fifty of
-them marching across, two and two, to some of their meetings; and he
-and his master both think we shall have a row. La! there goes another
-rocket: it's their doings, depend upon it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That cannot be,&quot; answered Eda. &quot;Those rockets are thrown up from the
-sea. I should not wonder if it was some ship in distress. Open the
-window, and listen if there are guns.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The maid obeyed, but all was silent, though the wind blew dead
-upon the coast; and Eda, finishing her toilette, descended to the
-drawing-room.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A number of the neighbouring gentry had been invited to dine at
-Brandon on that day, and the table was well-nigh full. As soon as that
-pause in devouring took place, which usually succeeds when people have
-eaten fully sufficient to satisfy the hungry man, and have nothing
-left but to pamper the epicure, conversation, which was very slack
-before, became animated upon the subject of the movements which were
-taking place in different parts of the country, of the designs of the
-Chartists, and of the danger of 'the people's holiday' terminating in
-anarchy and bloodshed.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda watched her uncle, for she knew well that he entertained opinions
-upon political subjects very different from those of the gentlemen by
-whom he was surrounded. Sir Arthur changed colour several times while
-the subject was under discussion; but at length a young military man,
-with somewhat rash impetuosity, exclaimed, &quot;Depend upon it, this is a
-disease that wants blood-letting. A few inches of cold iron, applied
-on the first attack, will soon cut it short.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur fired at the speech, and replied, warmly, &quot;My opinion is
-totally different, sir. If it be a disease at all, it is one of those
-that are salutary in the end, and likely to clear off a mass of evils
-which have accumulated in the pursy and pampered constitution of this
-country. But,&quot; he continued, in a more moderate tone, &quot;as the opinions
-at the table are very wide apart, it may be wise to avoid politics.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps so,&quot; replied the young officer, with a courteous inclination
-of the head; and the subject dropped, much to Eda's relief.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">She was destined, however, in the course of that evening to meet with
-a new subject of anxiety and annoyance. Lord Hadley, without actually
-getting at all tipsy, took enough wine after dinner to render him
-overbearing and irritable; and when Dudley seated himself beside her
-for a moment in the drawing-room, and said a few words to her in a low
-tone, the young peer instantly cut across their conversation, and in a
-haughty and domineering manner, gave a flat contradiction to something
-which his tutor had asserted.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Although of an amiable, and usually of a placable disposition, Dudley
-instantly retorted in severe terms: his growing contempt for the young
-peer overcoming his ordinary command over himself. Lord Hadley's words
-grew high, and tones loud; Edgar Adelon and the young officer, who had
-been one at the dinner-table, drew near; and the former listened with
-evident satisfaction to the severe castigation which the peer received
-at the hands of Mr. Dudley. It was given without loss of temper, but
-yet with an unsparing and a powerful hand; and the young man, almost
-furious, exposed himself every moment more and more, while the
-contemptuous smile of Edgar Adelon rendered his punishment still more
-bitter. The presence of Miss Brandon acted as a certain restraint; and
-as the eyes of several ladies in the room turned upon them, Lord
-Hadley, with a burning heart and a flushed cheek, turned away and left
-the room, while Edgar, with a laugh, muttered, &quot;It will do him good;&quot;
-and Dudley calmly resumed his conversation with Eda.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Miss Brandon, however, was herself much agitated and alarmed; and in
-the course of the evening, as the company from time to time broke into
-different groups, she took the opportunity of saying, at a moment when
-they were unobserved, &quot;For pity's sake, Edward, do not let the dispute
-go any farther with that foolish young man. Remember, he is but a boy,
-in mind at all events, and really unworthy of your notice.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! fear not, dear Eda,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;for your sake, if for
-nothing else, I would not suffer such an idle dispute to deviate into
-a direct quarrel. But the relations between him and me must be
-immediately altered. As long as he thought fit to demean himself as a
-gentleman and a man of honour, there seemed to be nothing degrading in
-the position that I held. Now, however, the case is different.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Other persons coming up prevented their farther conversation; and when
-the guests had taken their leave, Eda retired, not to rest, but to
-think over events which were the cause of no slight anxiety. Slowly
-undressing, she dismissed her maid, and sitting down before the table,
-wrapped in her dressing-gown, meditated painfully over the probable
-result. The moments often fly fast in thought as well as in activity;
-and Eda, in surprise, heard a clock which stood near her door strike
-one, while she was still sitting at the table. She rose to go to bed,
-but at that moment a curious sound caught her ear. It seemed to
-proceed from the park, and was that of a dull, heavy tramp, sometimes
-sounding louder, sometimes softer, sometimes distinctly measured,
-sometimes varied into a mere rustle. It struck her as very curious;
-and although she tried to persuade herself that it was a herd of deer
-passing over the gravel in the avenue, yet she was not satisfied, and
-proceeding to a window, drew back the curtains and gazed out.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The moon was not yet to be seen in the sky, but still her approaching
-light shed a certain degree of lustre before her. The night was
-certainly clearer than it had appeared shortly after sunset, and the
-stars were more faint and pale. From the left-hand side of the park,
-moving rapidly across the wide open space in front of the house, at a
-distance of not more than a hundred yards, a stream of dark human
-figures was seen, tending towards the opposite side, where the stile
-led down into the little valley with the stream and the old priory.
-There seemed to be between two and three hundred men, principally
-walking two and two; but every here and there in the line, they were
-gathered into a little knot, and apparently carrying some heavy mass
-upon their shoulders. At one spot within sight they halted, and one of
-the burdens which they carried was shifted to the shoulders of fresh
-bearers, displaying to the eyes of Eda, as the change was effected, an
-object which, to imagination, looked much like the form of a man. It
-seemed very heavy, however, and took at least eight or ten persons to
-carry it. It required some time, too, to move it from one set of
-shoulders to another; and when the party marched on again, Eda said to
-herself, &quot;This must be a train of those misguided men, the Chartists.
-How bold of them to come across the park! I trust my uncle has nothing
-to do with them; but I almost fear it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Even as the thought passed through her mind, a single figure came
-forth from the terrace just below her, and followed upon the track of
-the others. The form, however, was too slight and graceful for that of
-Sir Arthur Adelon. It was that of a young and lightly made man; and
-Eda at once recognised her cousin Edgar.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The moment she did so, she threw open the window, and leaning out,
-spoke to him in a low voice. &quot;What is all this, Edgar?&quot; she said. &quot;Who
-are those men, and what are they about?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not know, pretty cousin,&quot; he answered; &quot;but I am going to see.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! for heaven's sake, take care,&quot; cried Eda. &quot;You had better take no
-notice of them. There were two or three hundred men, and they may
-murder you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Pooh! pooh!&quot; answered Edgar. &quot;Go to bed, Eda, dear; you will catch
-cold, and then somebody will scold me to-morrow;&quot; and away he walked
-after the party of men, which he also had seen from his room as he sat
-meditating near the window. The intruders seemed to know the park
-tolerably well, but Edgar Adelon knew it better; and cutting off an
-angle here, and taking a short turn there--by a hawthorn bush, round a
-clump of chestnuts, through a copse, over a rise--he contrived to come
-in sight of them continually, without being seen himself, till at
-length they reached the stone stile, and paused around it in an
-irregular mass. The young gentleman was at that moment standing with
-his back against a large horse-chestnut tree, and he could not at all
-make out the man[oe]uvres that followed. Some of the men stood upon
-the top of the stile, and seemed, with great labour and difficulty, to
-lift a large and very weighty object over the wall. Then came another
-effort of the same kind, and then the men began to pass rapidly into
-the road beyond the park.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As soon as the last had disappeared, young Edgar Adelon darted out of
-his place of concealment, and followed; but by the time he reached the
-lane, although the moon had now risen, not a trace of the mob could be
-discovered; and he was turning away to the left, when suddenly a
-murmur of voices from the copse and valley below showed him the
-direction which those he sought had taken. There were ways through
-that copse only known to himself and the gamekeepers, unless, indeed,
-some of the neighbouring poachers were as learned in its recesses; but
-following one of these paths, he soon came within sight of the open
-space before the old priory, and a strange scene presented itself to
-his eyes. Full two hundred men were there assembled; some sitting on
-fragments of the old ruin, some sauntering idly about the little
-green, some bathing their hands in the stream, which sparkled not only
-in the light, pure and pale, of the newly-risen moon, but in that of
-two or three torches, which had by this time been lighted. In the
-centre, however, there was a group of some thirty persons, more busily
-employed, in the midst of whom shone the torches I have mentioned; and
-by their glare, Edgar now perceived, for the first time clearly, the
-heavy objects which the men had carried, and saw what they were now
-doing with them. Two small field-pieces, apparently of brass, lay upon
-the ground, detached from their carriages, which had been taken to
-pieces, and which the mob were busily putting together. A good deal of
-skill was shown in the task, and no slight eagerness appeared in the
-rough, bronzed countenances of the men around, as they looked on or
-assisted from time to time. The fixing the carriages together was soon
-complete, and then came the more laborious work of slinging the
-cannon, and adjusting them in their proper position. This was not
-accomplished without difficulty, but it was at length complete; and
-Edgar Adelon felt inclined to turn away and go back to the house, when
-suddenly a loud voice exclaimed, &quot;Now run them back into those dark
-nooks, and gather round and hear a word or two.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eight or ten men instantly applied themselves to drag the field-pieces
-into the recesses of the building, and then came forth again,
-gathering round the person who had spoken. He then placed himself upon
-a large mass of fallen masonry, and in a loud, clear tone, and with
-powerful and energetic language, pronounced an harangue, which gave to
-Edgar Adelon the astounding information that his father was looked
-upon as the leader of the rash men he saw before him, and their future
-guide and support in schemes which seemed to his fresh young mind
-nothing but mete madness. A part, at least, of their plans and
-purposes was displayed; and with a heart filled with terror and
-anxiety for his father, Edgar Adelon made his way out of the copse, to
-return to Brandon House, asking himself how he should act, and
-resolving to consult the priest as soon as he could see him on the
-following morning.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XV.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">What a whimsical thing is that strange composition--man. The very
-elements of his nature war against each other, though bound together
-by hoops of steel. The spirit and the body are continually at
-variance, and the activity of the one often renders the other inert.
-Eda Brandon could not sleep after Edgar Adelon left her; her
-imagination, ever busy, presented to her continually scenes the most
-fearful and the most terrible, where the gibbet, and the axe, and the
-deadly shot were seen and heard; and her uncle's form appeared as a
-criminal, freed for an hour or two from dark imprisonment, to endure
-the torture of a public trial. She judged of all she knew as a woman
-judges: with keen foresight and penetration, but without sufficient
-experience to make that penetration available. But still her fancy was
-busy, and it kept her waking. For more than one hour she did not
-sleep; but still she tried hard to do so, for she proposed to rise
-early on the following morning, when she knew that those whom she had
-determined to consult, as to all the questions before her, would be
-up. But such resolutions are vain. Fatigue and exhaustion imperatively
-counselled repose; and at length, when her eyes closed,
-notwithstanding all her determinations to watch, she went on in a
-profound slumber for more than one hour after her usual time of
-rising.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A morning of hurry and anxiety succeeded. Dudley had already gone out
-with the gamekeepers and Edgar to shoot; Lord Hadley was still in bed;
-Mr. Filmer had been summoned to a dying man at daybreak.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur ate his breakfast absorbed in journals and papers; and Eda,
-though she loved him, had still doubts and hesitations, which
-prevented her from speaking to her uncle on the subject predominant in
-her thoughts. At length he looked at his watch, and rose suddenly,
-saying, &quot;I must leave you, dear Eda. It is strange that Mr. Norries
-has not arrived, as I expected him on business.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">No mention was made of the peculiar influence that the one party
-possessed over the other; and the tone, too, was so commonplace, that
-Eda began to imagine she had been over-penetrating, and had imagined
-things that did not exist; so that she saw her uncle depart with
-comparative tranquillity, and remained alone for near an hour, trying
-to occupy herself with the ordinary amusements of the morning. At the
-end of that time, however, her maid opened the door of her own little
-sitting-room, saying, &quot;Miss Clive, ma'am,&quot; and Helen was soon seated
-by Eda Brandon.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What is the matter, Helen dear,&quot; said Eda, as the other, at her
-invitation, sat down on the sofa beside her. &quot;You look pale; and
-agitated I am sure you are; for however we may hide it, dear Helen,
-and however difficult it may be to detect in line or feature, the
-anxiety of the heart writes itself upon the face in characters faint
-but very distinct. You are anxious about something, Helen. Something
-has gone amiss. Tell me, dear Helen; for I think I need not say that
-if I can console or help, you have only to tell the how, to Eda
-Brandon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You are ever kind to your own little Helen, as you used to call me in
-my childhood, Eda,&quot; replied her beautiful companion. &quot;You were then
-but a child yourself, but from that day to this there has been no
-change, and it is time that I should try to return the kindness.
-Dearest Eda, it is you I am anxious for--at least yours; and I cannot
-refrain from telling you what I know, in the hope that you may be able
-to avert the danger; but you must promise me first not to mention one
-word to any one of that which I am about to say.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But, my dear Helen, how can I avert danger if I may not mention to
-any one the circumstances?&quot; inquired Eda. &quot;I am a very weak, powerless
-creature, Helen; and as you say the danger menaces mine more than
-myself, if I must speak of it to no one, how can I warn them.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Listen, listen, Eda!&quot; was the answer. &quot;You must not indeed tell what
-I relate, except as I point out; but still you shall have room enough
-to warn those you love of the danger their own acts are bringing upon
-them. Do you promise, Eda?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, Helen,&quot; replied Eda Brandon; &quot;it is for you to speak or be
-silent; and I must take your intelligence on your own conditions. Yet
-I think you might trust me entirely to act for the best, Helen.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I must not,&quot; said Helen Clive. &quot;What I have to say might involve the
-lives of others. Listen, then, Helen. Your uncle, Sir Arthur, is
-involved in schemes which will, I am sure, lead to his destruction. He
-is going this very evening to a place whence he will not come back
-without great guilt upon his head, and great danger hanging over him;
-perhaps he may never come back at all; but be sure that if he do go,
-peace and security are banished from him for ever. Persuade him not to
-go, Eda. That is the only thing which can save him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">She spoke with eager interest, and it was impossible, from her look,
-her tone, her whole manner, to doubt for one moment that she was fully
-impressed with the truth of what she said. Nor was Eda without her
-anxiety; all that she had seen the night before, all that she had
-remarked of her uncle's behaviour for several days, not only showed
-her that there was foundation for Helen Clive's assertion, but
-directed her suspicions aright; and though she paused, it was not in
-any doubt, but rather to consider how, without deceit, she could
-obtain further information from one who was not disposed to give it.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot persuade him, Helen,&quot; she said, at length, in a sad tone,
-&quot;without much more intelligence than you have given: he would only
-laugh at me. Nay, perhaps with all that you could give, such would be
-the same result. Men are often sadly obstinate, and ridicule the
-prophetic fears of woman, who sees the events in which they are called
-to mingle, but from which she is excluded, not unfrequently more
-justly than themselves, because she is but a spectator. You have
-neither told me the place to which he is going, nor the hour, nor the
-object, no, nor the inducement. Inducement?&quot; she continued, in a
-thoughtful tone, as if speaking to herself; &quot;what can be a sufficient
-inducement for my uncle, with everything to lose and nothing to gain
-by such commotions, to take part in any of these rash schemes?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I see that you have yourself had fears,&quot; answered Helen, &quot;and that
-those fears have not led you far from the truth. Then as to the
-inducement, Eda----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! yes, speak of that,&quot; replied Miss Brandon; &quot;if I knew what it
-was, perhaps I might remove it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps so,&quot; said Helen, thoughtfully, and then paused for an instant
-to consider. &quot;I think you can, Eda,&quot; she continued. &quot;If I know looks,
-and can understand tones, you certainly will be able. But there are
-several inducements, as I suppose there are in all things. There is
-the vanity, I believe, of adhering steadily to opinions once
-professed, how much soever the man, the circumstances, or the times
-may be changed; but that would have been nothing, had they not led him
-on from act to act, and whenever he wavered, whenever he thought of
-how much he risked upon an almost hopeless undertaking, still forced
-him forward by fears.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;By fears!&quot; exclaimed Eda. &quot;Of what? Of whom? Who has Sir Arthur
-Adelon to fear? What can he apprehend?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">She spoke somewhat proudly, and Helen gazed at her with a sad but
-tender look, while she replied, in a few brief words, &quot;He whom he
-fears is one whom, if generously treated, there is no cause to fear.
-His name is Dudley, Eda! What he fears, is the discovery by Mr. Dudley
-of some dark transactions in the past--I know not what, for they did
-not mention it--the proofs of which these men have in their
-possession.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda sat before her, silent with amazement, for several moments; but
-then she put her hand to her brow, and the next moment a smile full of
-hope came up into her face. &quot;If that be the inducement,&quot; she said, &quot;I
-think it will be easily removed, dear Helen. But you spoke of others;
-may they not be sufficiently strong to carry him on in the same course
-still?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no!&quot; replied Helen, &quot;that is the great motive. Take that away,
-and he will be safe. Speak to Mr. Dudley first, Eda, and get him to
-say to Sir Arthur these words, or some that are like them: 'I have
-heard of some papers to be returned to me in a few days, Sir Arthur
-Adelon, affecting questions long past; but I think it right to say at
-once, that I wish all those gone-by affairs to be buried in oblivion;
-and I pledge you my word, if those papers are given to me, I will
-destroy them without looking at them.'&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is much to ask, Helen,&quot; exclaimed Eda, with a look of
-hesitation; &quot;how can I tell that those papers do not affect his very
-dearest interests? I remember well that his father lost a fine
-property some years ago, by a suit at law. May not these very papers
-affect that transaction; may they not afford the means of recovering
-it?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They do not, they do not,&quot; answered Helen, eagerly; &quot;and if they did,
-would he not promise <i>you</i>, Eda?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The emphasis was so strong upon the word &quot;you,&quot; that it brought the
-colour into Eda Brandon's cheek; for she found that woman's eyes had
-seen at once into woman's heart. Still she shrunk from owning the love
-that was between Dudley and herself; and she replied, &quot;I had better
-ask my cousin Edgar to speak to Mr. Dudley about it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Speak to him yourself, Eda,&quot; replied Helen, with a faint smile; &quot;your
-voice will be more powerful. But let me proceed, for I must be home
-without delay. When you have Mr. Dudley's promise to speak as I have
-said, then beg Sir Arthur yourself not to go this night where he is
-going. Mind not, Eda, whether he laughs or is angry, but do you detain
-him by every persuasion in your power.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But if he should not come home?&quot; said Eda; &quot;such a thing is not
-impossible. He has been out very much lately, both by day and by
-night, and we are all ignorant of whither he goes on such occasions.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Helen once more paused before she replied, and then said, with evident
-hesitation and fear: &quot;You must send some persons down to seek him,
-then, dear Eda. Let them go down to a place called Mead's Farm,
-half-way between this and Barhampton, about eight o'clock tonight.
-There is a large empty barn there; and at it, or near it, they will
-find two or three men standing, who will not let them pass along the
-path unless they give the word, 'Justice.' Then, if they go along the
-road before them, towards Barhampton, they will find the person they
-are seeking. But, oh! I trust, Eda, he will be found before that, for
-then it will be almost too late.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Who can I send?&quot; said Eda, in a low tone, as if speaking to herself;
-but Helen caught the words, and replied, in an imploring tone, &quot;Not
-Mr. Adelon, Eda--not your cousin. He might be led on with his father,
-and ruin overtake him too.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda smiled sweetly, and laid her hand upon Helen Clive's, with a
-gentle and affectionate pressure; but, as she did so, some painful
-anticipations regarding the fate of her beautiful and highly-gifted
-companion crossed her mind, and she said, with a sigh, &quot;Do you know, I
-am almost a Chartist too, Helen!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Helen started, saying, &quot;Indeed! I do not understand what you mean,
-Eda.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What I mean is, dear Helen,&quot; replied Miss Brandon, &quot;that I wish there
-were no distinctions upon earth, but virtue, and excellence, and high
-qualities.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Helen now understood her, and cast down her eyes with a blush and a
-sigh; and Eda put her arm round her neck, adding, &quot;In time of need, my
-Helen, come to me. Tell me all and everything, and above all, how I
-can serve you; and you shall not find Eda Brandon wanting. But, hark!
-there's Lord Hadley's voice in the hall below.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Helen Clive turned pale and trembled. &quot;He will not come here?&quot; she
-said, eagerly. &quot;Do not let him come here. Oh! how shall I get away?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, what is the matter?&quot; asked Eda, in surprise; but before Helen
-could answer, another voice, rich and harmonious, but speaking in
-grave and almost stern tones, was heard. &quot;My lord, I beg your pardon,
-but this is a matter which admits of no delay. I must repeat my
-request for a few minutes' conversation with you immediately.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Lord Hadley was then heard answering sharply; and the next moment the
-voices ceased, as if the speakers had retired into one of the rooms
-below.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You do not seem to like Lord Hadley, Helen,&quot; said Eda, in a
-thoughtful tone.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I abhor him,&quot; answered Helen Clive, &quot;and I have cause. But now I must
-return to the Grange, and I will ask you as a favour, dear Eda, to
-send some one with me by the way. It is very strange to feel afraid at
-going out alone for one who has been accustomed, as I have been, to
-roam about like a free bird, without one thought of danger or
-annoyance; but now I tremble at every step I take, and watch every
-coming figure with apprehension.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And has this young man done this?&quot; asked Eda Brandon. &quot;It is sad,
-very sad; but you shall have protection, Helen.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Helen Clive did not reply, and Eda rang the bell, and gave orders that
-one of the old servants, who had been attached for twenty years to her
-father's house, should accompany Helen back to the Grange.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">They then parted, after some more brief explanations; but just as
-Helen reached the foot of the stairs, where the servant was waiting
-for her, the door of the library was thrown violently open, and Lord
-Hadley appeared with a flushed and angry countenance. Mr. Dudley was
-standing two or three steps behind him, and his cheek too was hot, and
-his brow frowning.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Without seeing Helen, and, indeed, in the blind fury of passion,
-without noticing any one else, the young nobleman turned before he
-left the library, and with a menacing gesture, said to Mr. Dudley:
-&quot;Your insolence, sir, shall not go without notice. Don't suppose your
-rash and mercenary pretensions have escaped my eyes. Be you sure they
-will be treated with the contempt they merit; but I will take care
-that they shall be pursued no farther, for they shall be exposed to
-Sir Arthur Adelon this very day.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley took a step forward and replied, with a stern look, &quot;Your
-lordship had better take care what use you make of my name in your
-discourse, for depend upon it, if you treat it disrespectfully I shall
-know how to punish you for so doing.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It is probable that more angry words would have followed, but at that
-moment two other persons were added to the group, by the advance of
-Mr. Filmer from the outer hall, and by the appearance of the butler
-from the side of the offices, carrying a tray with letters.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Two letters for your lordship,&quot; said the servant, advancing in a
-commonplace manner, as if he observed nothing of the angry discussion
-which was going on. &quot;A letter for you, sir,&quot; he continued, addressing
-Dudley, as soon as Lord Hadley had taken what he presented.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The young nobleman gave a hurried glance around; and the slight pause
-which had been afforded was sufficient to allow reflection to come to
-his aid. By this time Mr. Filmer was speaking to Helen Clive, and both
-she and the priest were moving fast towards the great doors of the
-house; but the presence of the two servants was now enough to restrain
-Lord Hadley's impetuous temper; and without opening the letters he
-hurried away towards his bed-room, leaving Dudley alone in the
-library. The butler shut the door and retired to tell the housekeeper
-and some of his fellow-servants all that which he had seen and heard,
-but which he had affected not to observe.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley, in the mean time, laid down the letter on the table, and
-stood in bitter thought. Although a man of strong command over
-himself--command gained during a long period of adversity--he was
-naturally of a quick and eager disposition, and a severe struggle was
-taking place in his bosom at that moment to maintain the ascendancy of
-principle over passion.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No!&quot; he said, at length--&quot;No. I will make one more effort to reclaim
-him. I will not dwell upon his insulting conduct towards me; but I
-will point out the wickedness and the folly of the course he is
-pursuing, and endeavour to call him back to honour and to right.&quot; The
-very determination served to calm him; and looking down upon the
-letter on the table, he took it up, saying, &quot;I wonder who this can be
-from? I do not know the hand. I must see, for the seal is black.&quot; And
-opening it, he found the following words:--</p>
-<br>
-
-<p style="text-indent:5%">&quot;<span class="sc">Dear Sir</span>,</p>
-
-<p style="text-indent:10%">&quot;We have the melancholy task of informing you of the sudden decease,
-last night, at half-past nine o'clock, of our much respected friend
-and client, the Rev. Dr. Dudley, which took place at St. John's, just
-as he was about to retire to rest. Although we know that you will be
-greatly grieved at this sad event, we are forced to intrude some
-business upon your attention under the following circumstances. About
-a fortnight ago, our late respected client, having felt some
-apoplectic symptoms, judged it right to send for Mr. Emerson, of our
-firm, in order to make his will, which was in due form signed, sealed,
-and delivered. He therein appointed you his sole executor, having
-bequeathed all his property, real and personal, to yourself, with the
-exception of a few small legacies. He has also requested you to make
-all the arrangements for his funeral as you may think proper, merely
-directing that it should be conducted in a plain and unostentatious
-manner. It is therefore very necessary that you should return to
-Cambridge as soon as possible, or that you should send your directions
-by letter. In the mean time we will take all proper steps in the
-matter, and trust to be honoured with your confidence, as we have been
-with that of your lamented relative for many years.&quot;</p>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">The letter was signed by a well-known law firm in Cambridge.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The first emotion in the mind of Edward Dudley was that of deep
-grief--grief, simple and unalloyed, for the loss of one whom he had
-truly loved; but the next was a feeling of bereavement. His staff was
-broken, his support gone, The only one in all the world who had acted
-a kindly, almost a parental part to him, for long, long years, was no
-more. He felt, as I have said, bereaved; for although the love of Eda
-Brandon, that love which had been cherished in secret by both, was a
-great consolation and a comfort, yet it was so different, both in kind
-and in degree, from the affection entertained for him by his own
-relation, that they could not be brought at all into comparison the
-one with the other. New attachments never wholly compensate for old
-ties. They fill a different, perhaps a larger place, but they leave
-the others vacant. He mourned sincerely then; and it was some time
-before the thought--which would have presented itself much earlier to
-a worldly mind, came even to his memory--the thought that the riches
-of the earth, which can never compete, in a generous heart, with those
-affections which are above the earth, but which influence so much the
-course of human life and mortal happiness, were now his. That he was
-no more the impoverished student, seeking by hard labour to recover
-the position which his family had once maintained. That he was not
-only independent, but wealthy; and though perhaps not exactly upon a
-par in point of fortune with the heiress of large hereditary
-possessions, still no unportioned adventurer, seeking to mend his
-condition with her gold. He knew that his father's first cousin had
-himself inherited a very fair estate. He knew that he had held rich
-benefices and lucrative offices; and he also knew that, though a
-liberal and a kindly man, he had been also a very prudent one, and had
-certainly lived far within his income. Thus he was certain of more
-than a moderate fortune; but although it would be folly to deny that
-such a conviction was a relief to his mind, still sincere grief was
-predominant, and he felt that the wealth he had acquired by the loss
-of a friend could in no degree compensate for the bereavement.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">While he thus meditated, he heard a quick but heavy step upon the
-stairs, the glass doors between the hall and the vestibule bang with a
-force which might almost have shaken the panes from the frame, and the
-moment after he saw the figure of Lord Hadley pass the windows of the
-library. Dudley instantly took up his hat, darted out and looked
-around; but the young nobleman had disappeared, and seeing one of the
-gamekeepers who had been out with him and Edgar in the morning,
-walking slowly away from the house, he stopped him and asked which way
-the young nobleman had taken. His manner was quick and eager, and the
-cloud of grief was still upon his brow, so that the man looked at him
-for a moment with some surprise before he answered. He then pointed
-out the way, and Dudley was turning at once to follow it, when the
-butler came out upon the terrace, saying, with a low bow, &quot;Miss
-Brandon wishes to speak with you for a few moments, sir, if you are
-not otherwise engaged.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;If the business is not of great importance,&quot; said Dudley, &quot;I will be
-back in ten minutes.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is nothing particular, I believe, sir,&quot; answered the man; &quot;she has
-just had a note from Sir Arthur to say he won't be back to dinner. I
-fancy that is all.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then say I will wait upon her in ten minutes,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;I
-wish to catch Lord Hadley for a moment before he proceeds farther. We
-have something to speak about which must be settled at once.&quot; And he
-sped upon the way, as the gamekeeper had directed. It was in the
-direction of the Grange.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Ten minutes elapsed, and Dudley had not returned. A quarter of an
-hour, half an hour, an hour; and when he came back he was evidently a
-good deal excited. He calmed himself down, however, as much as
-possible, and immediately requested an interview with Miss Brandon,
-who came down and joined him in the library, remaining with him nearly
-till dinner-time. They were at last interrupted by the priest, who
-came in search of a book, and shortly after the dressing-bell rang. At
-the dinner-table, Lord Hadley, who appeared very late, was gloomy and
-thoughtful. He never addressed a word to Mr. Dudley, and spoke but
-little to Eda or the priest, who took one end of the table. Edgar
-Adelon did not at all seek to converse with him; and when any words
-passed between them, they were as sharp as the customs of society
-would permit. Dudley was very grave, and if he still took any interest
-in Lord Hadley's conduct he might not be altogether satisfied to see
-him drink so much wine. As soon as Eda had quitted the room, however,
-Dudley rose, saying that, with Mr. Filmer's permission, he would
-retire, as he was obliged to go out for a short time; and after
-emptying two more glasses, Lord Hadley also left the table, and the
-party broke up.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The young peer took his hat in the vestibule, and walked out upon the
-terrace, asking one of the men who were in the hall if he had seen
-which way Mr. Dudley took. The man replied, &quot;Up the avenue, my lord;&quot;
-and Lord Hadley pursued the same path. It was never to return.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XVI.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">The night was dark but fine; and innumerable stars spangled the sky,
-as four men stood on watch by the side of a large old barn, within
-sight of a farm-house. Although a human habitation was there, the
-place had a desolate and solitary aspect. There was the farm-stead,
-with its ricks and stacks, it is true, showing that industry was at
-work; but not another house was to be seen around except that yeoman's
-dwelling; not a labourer's cottage even; and the ground immediately
-around was uncultivated, and presented no homely and comfortable
-hedge-rows, no protection from the bleak winds which swept over the
-adjacent downs. Immediately round about the house, the ground, sloping
-hither and thither, was covered with short turf upon a sandy soil,
-which appeared in many a yellow patch and broken bank; and between two
-of the latter ran a good broad road, heavy to travel through with wain
-or cart. At the edge of this road, and not more than twenty or thirty
-yards from it, was the large, shapeless barn I have mentioned, the
-boarding broken off in several places, and the tiling in a very
-shattered condition. Between it and the road, upon the bank, which was
-not above three feet high, were seated the men, who, as I have stated,
-were placed on watch there; and it was evident that they listened from
-time to time, for distant sounds, breaking off their low-toned
-conversation, and bending an attentive ear at the word 'Hush!'</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They can't have got there yet, William,&quot; said one of them. &quot;Remember,
-it is more than three miles.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay, but they will go it quick,&quot; answered the other.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That was at the first starting,&quot; replied the first. &quot;Their march will
-be slower after a while. It is your impatience calculates your time
-and not your wit.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I would rather be at work with them there,&quot; said another, &quot;than
-lagging here, doing nothing.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We have a post of more importance, and perhaps of more danger too,&quot;
-rejoined the second speaker. &quot;The success of the whole may depend upon
-us. Hark! there is a footstep! Perhaps it is the soldiers they talked
-of. Now, jump down and stand to your arms, my lads. Remember--you,
-William, carry the intelligence at the first sight of them, while we
-hold them in parley as long as possible.&quot; And as he spoke, he jumped
-down into the road, first snatching up a musket that lay by his side.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Whoever or whatever it was they expected, only a single figure
-appeared, and as it came up the sandy path towards them, a voice
-shouted, &quot;Stand! Give the word!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Justice,&quot; replied the clear, full voice of Mr. Dudley; and as he
-spoke, he continued to advance direct towards the men who barred the
-road.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That's the word, sure enough,&quot; said one of them in a low tone; &quot;but
-he has got no arms, and does not look like our people.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I dare say he is one of Sir Arthur's men,&quot; replied another; and after
-a momentary hesitation, they made way to let him pass. Dudley,
-however, paused in the midst of them, inquiring, in a familiar tone,
-&quot;Which way have they taken?&quot; and after hearing the reply of &quot;Straight
-on; you cannot miss it,&quot; he walked forward at the same rapid pace
-which had brought him thither.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">For a little more than two miles farther, no sound nor sight indicated
-that he was approaching the scene of any important event. The road was
-varied, sometimes passing over a part of the bare downs, sometimes
-gliding in between little copses and hedge-rows, sometimes crossing
-over a shoulder of the hill, sometimes skirting its base. At length,
-however, a distant roar was heard, as of a multitude of human beings
-talking tumultuously; and coming out of the little valley, through
-which passed the byeway he was pursuing, a strange and not
-unpicturesque scene burst upon his eyes. He was now at the foot of the
-steep ascent which led up to the old gates of the small town of
-Barhampton; and the decayed walls, with their flanking towers, were
-seen crowning the rise, at the distance of somewhat more than a
-quarter of a mile. I have said that they were seen, though the night
-was very dark, and the moon had not yet risen; but it was by a less
-mellow and peaceful light than that of the fair planet that the
-crumbling fortifications were displayed. More than a hundred links
-were blazing with their red and smoky glare around the gate and
-beneath the walls; and a sea of human beings, moving to and fro, some
-on horseback and some on foot, was shown by the same fitful flames,
-with strange effects of light and shade, varying over them every
-moment as the groups themselves changed their forms, or the links were
-carried from place to place. At the same time, a dull, murmuring,
-subdued roar was heard, strong but not loud, as of many persons
-speaking eagerly; and every now and then a voice rose in a shout above
-the rest, as if giving directions or commands.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Without pausing even an instant to gaze upon the scene, however
-strange and interesting, Dudley hurried on up the ascent, sometimes
-running, sometimes walking, till he reached the outskirts of the mob,
-where a number of the less zealous and energetic were standing idly
-by, some with arms in their hands of various kinds and sorts: muskets,
-fowling-pieces, pikes, swords, scythes set upright upon poles; pistols
-and daggers, or large knives; some totally unarmed, like himself, or
-furnished merely with a bludgeon. In advance was the denser part of
-the crowd: agitated, vociferous, swaying hither and thither, and
-seeming to attend but little to the commands which were shouted from
-time to time by several persons on horseback. The confusion was
-indescribable, and little could be seen of what was going on in front,
-though the light of the torches caught strong on one or two of the
-banners, bearing inscriptions in gilt letters, and upon the figures of
-the horsemen, who were raised above the crowd on foot. Towards one of
-these Mr. Dudley strove to force his way; but it was with difficulty
-that he gained, every moment or two, a step in advance, till at length
-he came suddenly, in the midst of the densest mass of the people, upon
-a brass six-pounder, of somewhat antique form, with the two horses
-which had drawn it up the hill. There seemed to be another a little in
-advance; but seeing the space somewhat clear on the other side of the
-gun, Dudley leaped over it, and hurried on more freely towards the
-figure upon which his eyes had been fixed, and which he recognised at
-once, though some attempt had been made to disguise the person. As he
-was passing the other field-piece, however, a man of foreign
-appearance, with a large pair of mustachios, stopped him rudely,
-telling him in French to keep back.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley replied in the same language, &quot;I must pass, sir. I wish to
-speak with that gentleman;&quot; and, at the same time, he thrust aside the
-other, who was much less powerful than himself, and was approaching
-Sir Arthur Adelon, when suddenly a broad blaze broke up just under the
-arch of the old gateway, and a loud voice exclaimed, &quot;That will soon
-burn them down.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The crowd recoiled a little, and Dudley for a moment caught sight of a
-huge pile of dry bushes which had been placed against the old gates,
-and lighted by some gunpowder. The next instant he was by Sir Arthur's
-side, and then for the first time saw, a little in advance of the
-baronet, the lawyer Norries, apparently acting as the leader of the
-multitude, and at that moment giving directions for bringing round the
-muzzles of the field-pieces to bear upon the gates as soon as they
-should be destroyed by the flames.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The tumult and uproar were so great that Sir Arthur neither saw nor
-heard Dudley, till the latter had spoken to him three times, and then,
-when he turned his eyes upon him, he started, and became very pale.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Sir Arthur, listen to me for a moment,&quot; said Dudley; &quot;bend down your
-head, and hear what I have to say.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The baronet, seemingly by an involuntary movement, did as he was
-required; and Dudley continued, in a low voice, saying, &quot;Take the
-first opportunity of turning your horse and riding away; and be
-sure----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Impossible, sir, impossible!&quot; answered Sir Arthur, in the same tone.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And be sure,&quot; continued Dudley, without heeding his reply, &quot;that if
-you do not, you will have bitter cause to regret it. Listen to me yet
-one moment, sir, before you answer.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There is a part of the gate down!&quot; cried the loud voice of Norries.
-&quot;Bring these cannon round quicker. Have you lost your hands and arms?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Sir Arthur Adelon,&quot; continued Dudley, earnestly, &quot;I was asked a
-question by those who sent me, and to it I gave a willing reply. In
-accordance with that reply I was directed to say to you, I have heard
-that some papers will be given up to me in a few days affecting
-questions long past; but I say at once, I wish all those gone-by
-affairs to be buried in oblivion, and if you will retire at once from
-this scene of treasonable violence, I give you my word that when those
-papers are given to me, I will destroy them without looking at them.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then he has betrayed me!&quot; murmured Sir Arthur, with a furious look
-towards Norries; &quot;he has forced me forward into these deeds, and then
-betrayed me. But it is too late,&quot; he added, aloud, for the preceding
-words, though they were caught by Dudley, had been uttered in a very
-low tone. &quot;I know not what you speak of, sir. If you have come here to
-put forth enigmas, I am too busy to unriddle them. It matters not to
-me whether you look at papers or not. That is all your own affair.&quot;
-And breaking off abruptly, he again gazed gloomily at Norries, and
-muttered something between his teeth, of which Dudley only heard the
-word, &quot;Revenge.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There were two holsters at his saddle-bow, such as are commonly used
-in some of our volunteer regiments of cavalry; and as he spoke, Sir
-Arthur Adelon put his right hand to one of them, while he turned his
-horse with the other. But Dudley grasped his bridle rein, saying, &quot;One
-word more, Sir Arthur, and then I must go. You are in great danger,&quot;
-he added, in a lower voice. &quot;Not only are there troops within the
-town, but in five minutes you will have the yeomanry upon you. So much
-have I learned this day. Be advised for your own sake, for the sake of
-your family. Turn your horse, disentangle yourself from the crowd, and
-make the best of your way back to Brandon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur gazed at him with a look of stupified astonishment; but ere
-he could answer, a voice shouted, &quot;The gate's down!--the gate's down!&quot;
-And immediately a rush forward took place, beginning with those
-behind, who heard the announcement without seeing what was going on in
-front.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Orderly, orderly!&quot; cried Norries; &quot;let the guns advance first.&quot; But
-as he spoke, there was a loud ringing peal of musketry from the inner
-side of the gateway, and then a straggling shot or two. A man amongst
-the rioters dropped; another staggered, pressing his hand upon his
-side, and fell; and the horse which Norries was riding reared high,
-and then came thundering down.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">At the same instant there came the sound of a wild &quot;Hurrah!&quot; from the
-side of the hill to the left, together with that of galloping horse.
-Another volley of shot rang from behind the gateway of the town; and
-then, with a cheer, a small but compact body of infantry advanced at
-the charge with fixed bayonets from within the walls. Two more of the
-rioters had fallen by the second discharge; the cry spread amongst
-them that the cavalry were upon them; those at the extreme verge of
-the crowd began to run; the centre remained firm for a moment, more
-from indecision than courage; but the next instant, panic seized all,
-and one general scene of flight and confusion followed.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley caught one more glance of Sir Arthur Adelon, but it was only to
-see that he was spurring the fine horse he rode fiercely along the
-slope towards the other side from that which now presented the
-advancing line of a well-disciplined body of yeomanry cavalry.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It was now time that Dudley should think of his own safety. He was in
-the midst of a body of rioters, whose acts amounted to treason, though
-a more lenient construction was afterwards put upon them, under the
-merciful influence of modern civilisation. With quick step, then, but
-not at a run, he turned somewhat in the direction which had been taken
-by Sir Arthur Adelon, skirted round the town to the westward, and when
-he had got in amongst some houses which had been built beyond the
-walls, turned back, as if coming towards the scene of affray.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The great mass of the people had fled down the hill towards the
-villages and copses in the interior; and it must be said that the
-yeomanry, inexperienced in such proceedings, made but few prisoners,
-considering the number of people present at the attack upon the town.
-A confused noise, however, reached Dudley's ears, of galloping horse,
-and shouts and cries; but, keeping away to the right, he avoided the
-spot where the pursuit was going on, and at the same time endeavoured
-to regain the road which led towards Brandon. He was some time in
-finding it, and even when actually upon it, did not feel sure that he
-was right, till he perceived, after having gone on for a quarter of a
-mile, a tall finger-post, of a peculiar form, which he had remarked as
-he passed before.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The road was quite solitary, although he thought he heard steps
-running on fast before him; and no one did Dudley meet with during the
-whole weary seven miles he had still to walk before he reached the
-gates of Brandon Park. Sad and gloomy were the thoughts which kept him
-company by the way from that scene of mad violence. He reflected upon
-the fate of the misled men who had fallen or been taken; and with
-still more sorrowful feelings he thought of the future condition of
-the widow, the orphans, the parents of the dead, and all that were
-connected with or dependent upon the prisoners. But it is with his own
-fate I have to do, and not with his mere meditations, and therefore I
-will conduct him at once past the old barn and lonely farm-house,
-which marked about half the distance, and bring him to the gates of
-the park. The moon was by this time rising, but the light of a candle
-was in the lodge, and the small door leading into the park, at the
-side of the greater ones, was open. Dudley passed through, and
-advanced up the avenue towards the house; but he had not proceeded two
-hundred yards, when two men started out upon him from behind the
-trees, and seized him by the shoulder.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Edward Dudley,&quot; said one, &quot;I apprehend you in the Queen's name.
-Here is the warrant.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Upon what charge?&quot; demanded Dudley, without making any resistance.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, it may be murder; it may be manslaughter,&quot; replied the
-constable; &quot;that remains to be seen. You must come to the lodge for
-to-night, sir; for I am ordered to keep you there in safe custody, in
-the little room with the round window at the back.&quot;</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XVII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">It is necessary now to leave Dudley in the hands of the constables,
-and to take up the history of another personage in the tale.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur Adelon spurred on for four miles without drawing a rein,
-and almost without giving a thought to any point in his situation,
-except the effort necessary to escape personal danger. For the first
-two miles he fancied that he heard the sounds of pursuit behind him;
-but gradually, as no one appeared, and his keenest attention did not
-confirm the impressions which fear had produced, he became convinced
-that he had escaped immediate capture; and while he still urged his
-horse furiously forward, he meditated over the perilous future. His
-course was directed along a narrow horse-path across the downs, with
-every turning of which he was well acquainted, but which added nearly
-two miles to the distance he had to go. He paid little attention to
-any external objects; but one thing could not escape his eye as he
-rode over the high grounds towering above the sea. It was a dim light,
-at the distance of about a mile from the shore, and he knew right well
-that it was burning on board a small French brig, which had brought
-over the two field-pieces the night before. The sight suggested to his
-mind the idea of flight from England; but there were many difficult
-and dangerous points to be considered before such a step could be
-taken; and after awhile, he somewhat checked his horse's speed, and
-though still proceeding at a quick trot, revolved in an intense, but
-confused and rambling manner, the circumstances which surrounded him.
-His inclination was certainly to fly; but then he remembered that to
-do so would fix upon him participation in the crimes of that night;
-that he might not be able to return to his country for long years, and
-that the rest of his life might be spent in the pains of exile. He
-recollected, too, that he had held back at that period of the attack
-upon the town of Barhampton, when the magistrates had appeared upon
-the wall, and summoned the multitude to disperse, and retire quietly
-to their homes; and he fancied that, disguised as his person had been,
-in a large wrapping cloak, with a handkerchief tied over the lower
-part of his face, and a hat unlike that which he usually wore, he
-might have escaped without observation on the part of most of the
-rioters. But then again, Dudley had seen him, spoken to him,
-recognised him. He was the only one, except Norries, that was fully
-aware of his presence on the spot, and Sir Arthur believed that he had
-seen the latter fall dead under the fire of the troops. Could Dudley
-be silenced, all might go well; but still the baronet hesitated and
-balanced, and remained undecided till the gates of Brandon Park
-appeared before him. It was necessary to come to some immediate
-decision; and yet he could not make up his mind to decide; and at
-length he determined, as most men in a state of doubt are inclined to
-do, to cast the burden upon another. &quot;I will speak with Filmer,&quot; he
-thought; &quot;and upon his advice I will act.&quot; The gates were immediately
-opened on his ringing the bell; for the tenants of the lodge, knowing
-that he was absent, had waited up for his return, and riding hard up
-the avenue, Sir Arthur entered his niece's house a little after eleven
-o'clock. A momentary hesitation crossed him when he was passing the
-threshold, as to whether he should consult with Father Peter or not;
-but that doubt was immediately put an end to, by the first words of
-the butler, who stood behind the servant that opened the door.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! Sir Arthur!&quot; he said, with a very grave face, &quot;some terrible
-things have happened----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I know--I know,&quot; cried Sir Arthur, interrupting him hastily, and
-somewhat surprised to find that the tidings had travelled so quick.
-&quot;Where is Mr. Filmer? I must see him directly. Call him to me
-immediately.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He is in the library, sir,&quot; replied the man; and passing on with a
-quick step, Sir Arthur Adelon entered the room where the priest was
-seated alone. Father Filmer was sitting at a large library-table, with
-his head resting on his hand: and as he raised his eyes to the
-baronet's countenance, with the light of the large lamp streaming upon
-his broad forehead, there was an expression of intense stern thought
-upon his face, which made Sir Arthur feel he was in the presence of
-his master more than of his friend perhaps. He closed the door, and
-saw that it was firmly shut; and as he was advancing towards the
-table, Mr. Filmer inquired, &quot;What is the matter, Sir Arthur? You are
-pale, haggard, and apparently much agitated.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Have you not heard, my good father?&quot; asked the baronet. &quot;I had
-understood that the rumour had reached Brandon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have heard much,&quot; replied the priest; &quot;but what I wish to hear is,
-what it is that has so much affected you. My son,&quot; he continued,
-rising, and gazing gravely upon Sir Arthur's face, &quot;if you would
-have comfort, consolation, and advice from one who is your old and
-long-tried friend, as well as your spiritual guide, you must have
-confidence in him. Now, in that confidence you have been wanting
-lately. You have told me half, and I have known the whole. You have
-avoided rather sought my counsel; and I have not forced it upon you,
-although I knew you to be engaged in enterprises dangerous to yourself
-and others, and knew also the inducements which forced you forwards,
-and from which I could have relieved you, if you would but have been
-guided by me. The only thing of which I was unaware, was that the rash
-attempt was to be made to-night. I see by your face, by your dress, by
-your manner, that it has been so; and I now ask you the result, not
-from any idle curiosity, but for the purpose of delivering you from
-the difficulties which your own want of confidence has brought upon
-you. Speak; and every word that you say shall be held as sacred as if
-uttered under the seal of confession.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The result, my best friend,&quot; replied Sir Arthur, &quot;is more disastrous
-than can be conceived.&quot; And he went on to give his own version of all
-that had occurred, dwelling particularly upon Dudley's appearance
-amongst the rioters, and the words which he had used. Filmer suffered
-him to proceed to an end without a single question. He did not even
-embarrass him by a look, but having resumed his seat, kept his eyes
-fixed thoughtfully upon the table, and his head slightly bent, in
-listening attention.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And now what am I to do?&quot; asked Sir Arthur. &quot;I will be guided
-entirely by your advice. There is the French brig which has been hired
-by some of these men, through the <i>
-Société Democratique</i>, now lying
-off the coast. A boat will carry me on board in half an hour, and I
-shall be safe in France, as fugitives accused of mere political
-offences cannot be claimed.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Would you ruin yourself for ever?&quot; asked Father Filmer; &quot;would you
-put a brand upon your name which can never be effaced? Think not of
-it; merely answer me one or two questions. Are you sure that Norries
-is dead?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I saw him fall with my own eyes,&quot; answered the baronet; &quot;and I think
-that one of the cannon passed over him, for the horses took fright at
-the firing.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Norries would not betray you, I think,&quot; said Mr. Filmer,
-thoughtfully; and then repeated, &quot;he would not betray you, even if he
-were living, I do believe.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But he has betrayed me to this young Dudley already,&quot; answered Sir
-Arthur Adelon, sharply. &quot;His words clearly showed that he is informed
-of all that passed six years ago. He, the son of my greatest enemy,
-has me now entirely in his power: it is that which makes it so
-necessary to fly; he saw me, spoke to me, can swear to my presence
-there.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But he, you think, is the only one?&quot; said the priest, in a tone of
-inquiry.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Assuredly,&quot; replied Sir Arthur. &quot;I have been at only two of their
-meetings; and at the last I strongly dissuaded them from the attempt,
-and said that I would take no part in it, which was the cause of
-Norries' threatening visit here. All my other communications have been
-carried on with him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then you are safe,&quot; said the priest. &quot;If any one has by chance
-recognised your person, it may easily be said that you were there to
-dissuade the people from their rash attempt; and you can call
-witnesses to prove that you had done so before.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But Dudley, Dudley!&quot; said the baronet, almost impatiently; &quot;he can
-prove all.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will provide for him,&quot; replied the priest, with a marked emphasis
-and a bitter smile. &quot;He shall be taken care of.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But how, how?&quot; cried Sir Arthur.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Come with me and I will show you,&quot; answered Mr. Filmer; and lighting
-a taper at the lamp, he led the way into the hall. Sir Arthur
-followed, in wonder and doubt, and the priest opened the door of the
-dining-room, and went in. As soon as Sir Arthur entered, his eyes fell
-upon the dining-room table, which was covered with a white cloth,
-concealing from the eye some large object like the figure of a man.
-Mr. Filmer set down the light he carried on the side-board, where two
-other wax candles were burning; and then, with a slow, firm step, and
-grave countenance, approached the end of the table, and threw back the
-cloth. Sir Arthur had followed him step by step, but what was his
-horror and surprise to see, when the covering was removed, the cold,
-inanimate features of Lord Hadley, with his forehead and head covered
-with blood, and his clothes likewise stained with gore and dust.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Good heaven!&quot; he exclaimed, &quot;how has this happened, and how does this
-bear upon my own fate?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;How it has happened,&quot; answered Mr. Filmer, &quot;remains to be proved, and
-shall be proved; and how it bears upon your fate, I will leave you to
-divine, at least for the present. That unhappy young man had a sharp
-and angry discussion this morning with Mr. Dudley. The subject was
-Helen Clive, whom he who lies there was pursuing with the basest
-intentions, and insulting with familiarities as well as importunities,
-alike repugnant to one of so high a mind. The dispute proceeded to
-very fierce and angry menaces on both parts. Dudley forgot his usual
-moderation, and the sharp terms he used were overheard by myself and
-two others. At dinner they were cold and repulsive towards each other;
-and after dinner, towards eight o'clock, Mr. Dudley left the house,
-upon what errand I do not know. That unhappy young man followed him,
-inquiring which way the other took, and I find that they were seen
-passing the lodge, and going up towards the downs. At that time they
-were in eager conversation; their gestures were warm, and their tones
-indicative of much excitement, though the words they uttered were not
-heard. Somewhat more than two hours ago, the boatmen--fishermen or
-smugglers, as the case may be--brought home that lifeless mass of
-clay, with the vital spark even then quite extinct. The account they
-gave was this: that one of their number, while watching a French brig
-lying about a mile from the shore, heard high words from the cliff
-above his head. He thought he heard a cry, too, as if for help, and
-looking up, he saw two men at the very edge of the precipice, though
-in the darkness he could but distinguish the bare outline of their
-forms against the sky. There seemed to him to be blows struck and a
-scuffle between them, and the moment after, one disappeared, for the
-dark face of the rock prevented his fall from being seen; but a loud
-cry, almost a shriek, he said, and then the sound of a heavy fall and
-a deadly groan, called him to the spot, where he found this youth
-lying weltering in his blood.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The priest paused for a moment or two, while Sir Arthur Adelon
-approached nearer and bent down his head over the dead body; and then
-Mr. Filmer, with a significant look, continued:--&quot;Mr. Dudley will have
-occupation enough. There is no other wound,&quot; added the priest,
-observing that Sir Arthur was still looking close at the corpse, &quot;but
-that occasioned by the fall. The skull is fractured, the right thigh
-broken, the brain severely injured. Death must have been very speedy,
-though he was still living when the fishermen found him, but never
-uttered a word. Now, my son, the consequences of this act are
-important to you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But was it Dudley who killed him?&quot; asked the baronet, with an eager
-look. &quot;I cannot think it; and my good, kind friend, I cannot wish to
-bring his blood upon my head, were it even to spare my own. The events
-of this night,&quot; he continued, taking the priest's hands in his and
-pressing them tight, &quot;have given me strange feelings, Filmer. I have
-seen men die, if not in consequence of my act, at least in consequence
-of acts in which I participated, and I cannot, I will not, even to
-save my own life, bring a farther weight upon my conscience.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;For whatever you do in this case,&quot; answered Filmer, &quot;the church has
-power to absolve you, and for much more than I intend you should do.
-This Dudley is an obstinate heretic, who has had the means of light
-and has refused it; and although it is necessary now, from the
-circumstances of the times, to refrain from exercising that just
-rigour which in better and more spiritual days was displayed to every
-impenitent person in his situation, yet, of course, we cannot look
-upon him with the same feelings, or find ourselves bound to him by the
-same ties, which would exist between us and a Catholic Christian. Body
-and soul he is given over to reprobation; and we have no need to go
-out of our way to shelter him in any degree from the laws of his own
-heretic land: a land which for centuries has given the true faith up
-to persecution and injustice of every kind. Let him take his chance. I
-ask you to do nothing more. The evidence is very strong against him.
-No other person was seen near this unfortunate young man. But a very
-short time could have elapsed after they were remarked together,
-apparently in high dispute, before this fatal occurrence took place.
-Other evidence may appear, and he may be proved guilty or innocent;
-but, at all events, he must be tried, and the time of that trial may
-be yet remote. The first cases that will be taken will certainly be
-those connected with these riots, and the only direct witness against
-you will be then in jail.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But how am I to act in this business?&quot; demanded Sir Arthur Adelon.
-&quot;As a magistrate, as the person in whose house both the dead man and
-the living were staying, I shall continually be called upon to share
-in the different proceedings, and my part will be a terribly difficult
-one to play, my friend.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not in the least,&quot; answered Filmer. &quot;You must refuse to act as a
-magistrate, even should you be called upon, alleging your acquaintance
-with both parties, and your natural partiality for Mr. Dudley, on
-account of old friendship between his father and yourself, as
-sufficient excuses. Whatever evidence you give may be highly
-favourable to the accused person. The testimony against him will be
-strong enough, rest assured of that.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then do you really think him guilty?&quot; demanded the baronet, gazing at
-the priest, with those doubts which a long acquaintance with his
-character had impressed even upon the mind of a man not very acute.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Nay, I do not prejudge the question,&quot; replied Filmer. &quot;As yet we have
-not sufficient grounds to go upon. All I say is, the case of suspicion
-is very strong; and what I would advise you to do, under any
-circumstances, would be to send immediately for your nearest
-neighbour, Mr. Conway, turn over the case to him, and let him judge
-whether it be not necessary instantly to issue a warrant for the
-apprehension of Mr. Dudley, when he returns. It were better that not a
-moment were lost, for although you have probably ridden fast, it
-cannot be long ere the person we suspect is here.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps he may not return at all,&quot; said Sir Arthur. &quot;It is more than
-probable that, on foot and unarmed, he has been apprehended as one of
-the rioters, but we can send, at all events.&quot; And ringing the bell
-sharply, he gave the necessary orders.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But now,&quot; continued the baronet, reverting to the topic of greatest
-interest in his own mind, as soon as the servant had left the room,
-&quot;how am I to act in regard to this attack upon Barhampton?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We must see,&quot; replied the priest. &quot;Should Norries be dead, or have
-made his escape, you must assume a degree of boldness; acknowledge
-that your views are the same in regard to general principles as those
-of the unfortunate men implicated; but declare openly that you have
-always opposed any recourse to physical force in the assertion of any
-political opinions whatever, and bring forward witnesses to prove that
-you attempted to dissuade them from all violence, refusing to take any
-part therein. That will be easily done; and should any one come
-forward to state that you were present at the attack, you can show
-that you went thither on hearing that it was about to take place, in
-order to constrain them to refrain from executing their intentions by
-every means in your power.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But how can I show that?&quot; demanded Sir Arthur.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We will find a way,&quot; replied Filmer; &quot;but that can be discussed
-to-morrow. I must now go out to console some of my little flock who
-are suffering from affliction. In the mean time you must manage this
-examination. The witnesses are the old man at the lodge, your butler,
-the head footman, Brown, and the fishermen who are now waiting in the
-servants' hall.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As he spoke he moved towards the door. Sir Arthur would fain have
-detained him a moment to ask farther questions, but Filmer laid his
-hand upon his arm, saying, &quot;Be firm, be firm!&quot; and left him.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XVIII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">At the distance of about a quarter of a mile from Clive Grange was a
-group of six or seven cottages, of neat and comfortable appearance,
-tenanted by labourers on Mr. Clive's own farm. They were all
-respectable, hard-working people; and as Clive himself was not without
-his prejudices, especially upon religious matters, he had contrived
-that most of those whom he employed should be Roman Catholics. As
-there were not many of that church in the part of the country where he
-lived, some of these men had come from a distance. He would not,
-indeed, refuse a good workman and a man of high character on account
-of his being a Protestant, but he had a natural preference for persons
-of his own views, and all things equal, chose them rather than any
-others. This preference was known far and wide; and consequently, when
-any of his distant friends wished to recommend an honest man of the
-Romish creed to employment, where they were certain to be well
-treated, they wrote to Mr. Clive, so that he had rarely any difficulty
-in suiting himself.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In one of these cottages, at a much later hour than usual, a light was
-burning on the night of which I have been speaking; and within, over
-the smouldering embers of a small wood fire, sat a tall man of the
-middle age, with a peculiar deep-set blue eye, fringed with dark
-lashes, which is very frequently to be found amongst the Milesian
-race. His figure was bent, and his hands stretched out over the
-smouldering hearth to gain any little heat that it gave out; and, as
-he thus sat, his eyes were bent upon the red sparks amongst the white
-ashes, with a grave, contemplative gaze. He seemed dull, and somewhat
-melancholy, and from time to time muttered a few words to himself with
-the peculiar tone of his countrymen.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay-e!&quot; he said, as something struck him in the half-extinguished
-fire, &quot;that one's gone out too. If the priest stays much longer
-they'll all be out, one after the other. Well, it's little matter for
-that; we must all go out some time or another, and very often when we
-think we are burning brightest. That young lad now, I dare say, when
-he went out for his walk, never fancied his neck would be broke before
-he came home again. Sorrow a bit! He got what he deserved anyhow, and
-I'd ha' done it for him if the master hadn't--Hist! That must be the
-priest's step coming down the hill. He is the only man likely to be
-out so late in this country, and going with such a slow step, though
-the lads are having a bit of a shindy to-night they tell me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The next moment the latch was lifted, the door opened, and Mr. Filmer
-walked in. The labourer instantly rose and placed a wooden chair for
-his pastor by the side of the fire, saying, &quot;Good night, your
-reverence! It's mighty cold this afternoon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I don't find it so,&quot; answered Filmer; &quot;but I dare say you do, sitting
-all alone here, with but a little spark like that. I was afraid you
-would get tired of waiting, and go to bed. I am much obliged to you
-for sitting up as I told you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! in course I did as your reverence said,&quot; answered Daniel Connor.
-&quot;I always obey my priest.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That's right, Dan,&quot; answered Mr. Filmer. &quot;Now I have come to tell you
-what I want you to do, like a good lad.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Anything your reverence says, I am quite ready to do,&quot; replied the
-Irishman. &quot;I kept the matter quite quiet as you said, and not a bare
-word about it passed my lips to any of the servants, for I am not
-going to say anything that can hurt the master, for a better never
-lived than he.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, Dan,&quot; answered the priest; &quot;but I'll tell you what you must do,
-you must say a word or two to serve him.&quot; And Filmer fixed his eyes
-keenly upon the man's face, which brightened up in a moment with a
-very shrewd and merry smile, as he replied, &quot;That I'll do with all my
-heart, your reverence. It's but the telling me what to say and I'll
-say it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well then, you see, Dan,&quot; continued Filmer, &quot;this is likely to be a
-bad business for Mr. Clive, if we do not manage very skilfully. He is
-somewhat obstinate himself, and might with difficulty be persuaded to
-take the line of defence we want, and which indeed is necessary to his
-own safety. Now the first thing that will take place here is the
-coroner's inquest.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay! I suppose so,&quot; said Connor; &quot;but they shan't get anything out of
-me there, I can answer for it. I can be as blind as a mole when I
-like, and as deaf too.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But you must be somewhat more, Dan,&quot; was the priest's reply. &quot;You
-see, if suspicion fixes to no one, and the jury bring in a verdict of
-wilful murder against some person or persons unknown, the magistrates
-will never leave inquiring into the matter till they fix it upon your
-poor master. What we must do must be to turn the first suspicions upon
-some one else, so as to keep Mr. Clive free of them altogether, and
-then he will be safe enough.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Won't that be something very like murder, your reverence?&quot; asked
-Connor, abruptly, with a very grave face. &quot;I never did the like of
-that, and I think it's a sin, is it not?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The sin be upon me,&quot; answered Filmer, sternly. &quot;Cannot I absolve you,
-Daniel Connor, for that which I bid you do? Are <i>
-you</i>
-going to turn
-heretic too? Do you doubt that the church has power to absolve you
-from your sins, or that where she points out the course to you the end
-does not justify the means?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no! the blessed saints forbid!&quot; exclaimed Connor, eagerly. &quot;I
-don't doubt a word of it; I am quite sure your reverence is right; I
-was only just asking you, like!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! if that's all,&quot; answered Mr. Filmer, &quot;and you are not beginning
-to feel scandalous doubts from living so long amongst a number of
-heretics all about, I will answer your question plainly. It is not at
-all like murder, nor will there be any sin in it. The person who is
-likely to be suspected will be able easily to clear himself in the
-end; so that he runs no risk of anything but a short imprisonment,
-which may perhaps turn to the good of his soul, for I shall not fail
-to visit him, and show him the way to the true light. But in the mean
-time, Mr. Clive will be saved from all danger; and if you look at the
-matter as a true son of the church, you will see that there is no
-choice between a believer like Mr. Clive and an obstinate heretic and
-unbeliever like this other man.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! if it is a heretic!&quot; exclaimed Connor, with a laugh, &quot;that quite
-alters the matter; I didn't know he was a heretic.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You do not suppose, I hope,&quot; replied Mr. Filmer, &quot;that I would have
-proposed such a thing if he was not. All my children are equally dear
-to me, be they high or low, and I would not peril one to save
-another.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, your reverence, I am quite ready to do whatever you say,&quot;
-answered Connor; &quot;and if you just give me a thought of the right way
-I'll walk along it as straight as a line.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The case is this, then,&quot; rejoined the priest; &quot;there was a quarrel
-between this young lord and a Mr. Dudley, which went on more or less
-through the whole of this day. Dudley went out about eight o'clock,
-and Lord Hadley followed him and overtook him, and they went on
-quarrelling by the way. Very soon after that the young lord met with
-his death. Now men will naturally think that Mr. Dudley killed him,
-for no one but you and your master and Miss Clive saw him after, till
-he was speechless. What you must do then is this:--when you hear that
-the coroner's inquest is sitting, you must come up and offer to give
-evidence; and you must tell them exactly where you were standing when
-the young lord came up to the top of the cliff; and then you must say
-that you saw a man come up to him, and a quarrel take place, and two
-or three blows struck, and the unhappy lad pitched over the cliff.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And not a word about Miss Helen?&quot; said the man.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not a word,&quot; answered Filmer. &quot;Keep yourself solely to the fact of
-having seen a man of gentlemanly appearance----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! he is a gentleman, every inch of him,&quot; exclaimed Connor. &quot;No
-doubt about that, your reverence.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;So you can state,&quot; continued the priest; &quot;but take care not to enter
-too much into detail. Say you saw him but indistinctly.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That's true enough,&quot; cried the labourer; &quot;for it was a darkish night,
-and I was low down in the glen and he high up on the side of the hill,
-so that I caught but a glimmer of him, as it were. But it was the
-master, notwithstanding, that I am quite sure of, or else the devil in
-his likeness. But, by the blessed saints! I do not think it could be
-the devil either, for he did what any man would have done in his
-place, and what I should have done in another minute if he hadn't come
-up, for I would not have stood by to see the young lady ill-treated,
-no how.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Doubtless not,&quot; answered the priest; &quot;and it would be hard that the
-life of such a man should be sacrificed for merely defending his own
-child.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no! that shall never be,&quot; answered Connor, &quot;if my word can stop
-it; and so, father,&quot; he continued, with a shrewd look, &quot;I suppose that
-the best thing I can do is, if I am asked any questions, to say that I
-didn't rightly see the gentleman that did it; but that he looked like
-a real gentleman, and may be about the height of this Mr. Dudley. I
-saw him twice at the farmhouse, and if he is in the room, I can point
-him out as being about the tallness of the man I saw; and that's not a
-lie either, for they are much alike, in length at least. Neither one.
-nor the other stands much under six feet. I'd better not swear to him,
-however, for that would be bad work.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;By no means,&quot; answered the priest. &quot;Keep to mere general facts; that
-can but cause suspicion. I wish not to injure the young man, but
-merely to turn suspicion upon him rather than Mr. Clive; and by so
-doing, to give even Mr. Dudley himself a sort of involuntary penance,
-which may soften an obdurate heart towards the church which his
-fathers foolishly abandoned, and leave him one more chance of
-salvation, if he chooses to accept of it. It is a hard thing, Daniel
-Connor, to remain for many thousands of years in the flames of
-purgatory, where every moment is marked and prolonged by torture
-indescribable, instead of entering into eternal beatitude, where all
-sense of time is lost in inexpressible joy from everlasting to
-everlasting; but it is a still harder thing to be doomed in hell to
-eternal punishment, where the whole wrath and indignation of God is
-poured out upon the head of the unrepenting and the obstinate for ever
-and ever.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is mighty hard, indeed!&quot; answered the labourer, making the sign of
-the cross. &quot;The Blessed Virgin keep us all from such luck as that!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is from that I wish to save him,&quot; rejoined Mr. Filmer; &quot;but his
-heart must first be humbled, for you know very well, Daniel, that
-pride is the source of unbelief in the minds of all these heretics.
-They judge their own opinions to be far better than the dogmas of the
-church, the decisions of councils, or the exposition of the fathers;
-and by the same sin which caused the fall of the angels, they have
-also fallen from the faith. Let no true son of the church follow their
-bad example; but knowing that all things are a matter of faith, and
-that the church is the interpreter mentioned in Scripture, submit
-their human and fallible reason implicitly to that high and holy
-authority which is vested in the successor of the Apostle and the
-Councils of the Church, where they will find the only infallible
-guide.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! but I'll do that, certainly,&quot; replied Connor, eagerly; and yet a
-shade of doubt seemed to hang upon him, for he added, the moment
-after, &quot;But you know, your reverence, that when they swear me they
-will make me swear to tell the whole truth, and if I do not say that I
-know it was Mr. Clive, it will be false swearing.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Heed not that,&quot; answered Filmer, with a frown. &quot;Have I not told you
-that I will absolve you, and do absolve you? Besides, how can you
-swear to that which you only believe, but do not exactly know. You
-told me this evening, up at the hall, that you did not see your
-master's face when he struck the blow.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! but I saw his face well enough when he was going up,&quot; replied the
-labourer.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That does not prove that he was the same who did the deed,&quot; said
-Filmer. &quot;Another might have suddenly come there, without your
-perceiving how.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He was mighty like the master, any how,&quot; said the man, in a low tone;
-&quot;but I'll say just what your reverence bids me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Do so,&quot; answered Filmer, turning to leave the cottage; &quot;the church
-speaks by my voice, and accursed be all who disobey her!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The stern earnestness with which he spoke; the undoubting confidence
-which his words and looks displayed in his power, as a priest of that
-church which pretends to hold the ultimate fate of all beings in its
-hands; his own apparent faith in that vast and blasphemous pretension;
-had their full effect upon his auditor, who, though a good man, a
-shrewd man, and not altogether an unenlightened man, had sucked in
-such doctrines with his mother's milk, so that they became, as it
-were, a part of his very nature. &quot;To be sure I will obey,&quot; said
-Connor; &quot;it is no sin of mine if any harm comes of it. That's the
-priest's affair, any how.&quot; And he retired to his bed.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XIX.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">Father Peter turned away to the right, and walked on; for he had yet
-work to do, and a somewhat different part to play before the night was
-done. The versatility of the genius of the Roman church is one of its
-most dangerous qualities. The principle that the end justifies the
-means, makes it seem right to those who hold such a doctrine, to 'be
-all things to all men,' in a very different sense from that of the
-apostle. Five minutes brought Mr. Filmer to the door of the Grange,
-and he looked over that side of the house for a light, but in vain.
-One of the large dogs came and fawned upon him, and all the rest were
-silent; for it is wonderful how soon and easily he accustomed all
-creatures to his influence. His slow, quiet, yet firm footfall was
-known amongst those animals as well as their master's or Edgar
-Adelon's, and at two or three hundred yards they had recognised it.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">After a moment's consideration, Filmer rang the bell gently, and the
-next instant Clive himself appeared with a light in his hand. He was
-fully dressed, and his face was grave and composed. &quot;Ah, father!&quot; he
-said, as soon as he perceived who his visitor was, &quot;this is kind of
-you. Come in. Helen has not gone to bed yet.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am glad to hear it, my son,&quot; replied Filmer, &quot;for I want to speak a
-few words with you both.&quot; Thus saying, he walked on before Mr. Clive
-into the room where Helen Clive usually sat. He found her with her
-eyes no longer tearful, but red with weeping; and seating himself with
-a kindly manner beside her, he said, &quot;Grieve not, my dear child,
-whatever has happened. There is consolation for all who believe.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But you know not yet, father, what has happened,&quot; answered Helen,
-with a glance at her father: &quot;you will know soon, however.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do know what has happened, Helen,&quot; said the priest; &quot;though not all
-the particulars; and I have come down at once to give you comfort and
-advice. Tell me, my son, how did this sad event occur?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is soon rumoured, it would seem, then,&quot; observed Clive, in a
-gloomy tone. &quot;I told you, Helen, that concealment was hopeless, though
-we thought no eye saw it but our own, and that of Him who saw all, and
-would judge the provocation as well as the punishment.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Concealment is not hopeless, my son,&quot; replied Filmer, &quot;if concealment
-should, be needful, as I fear it is. Only one person saw you, and he
-came at once to tell me, and bring me down to comfort you; for he is a
-faithful child of our holy mother the church, and will betray no man.
-But tell me all, Clive. Am I not your friend as well as your pastor?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Tell him, Helen--tell the good father,&quot; said Clive, seating himself
-at the table, and leaning his head upon his hand. &quot;I have no heart to
-speak of it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The priest turned his eyes to Helen, who immediately took up the tale
-which her father was unwilling to tell. &quot;I believe I am myself to
-blame,&quot; she said, in a low, sweet tone; &quot;though God knows I thought
-not of what would follow when I went out. But I must tell you why I
-did so. My father and I had been talking all the evening of the wild
-and troubled state of the country, and of what was likely to take
-place at Barhampton tonight.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It has taken place,&quot; replied Father Filmer; &quot;the magistrates were
-prepared for the rioters; the troops have been in amongst the people,
-and many a precious life has been lost.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It was what we feared,&quot; continued Helen, sadly. &quot;Alas! that men will
-do such wild and lawless things. But about that very tumult my father
-was anxious and uneasy, and towards half-past six he went out to see
-if he could meet my uncle Norries as he went, and at all events to
-look out from the top of the downs towards Barhampton. He promised me
-that he would on no account go farther than the old wall, and that he
-would be back in half an hour. But more than an hour passed, and I
-grew frightened, till at last I sent up Daniel Conner to see if he
-could find my father. He seemed long, though perhaps he was not, and I
-then resolved to go myself. I had no fear at all; for I had never
-heard of Lord Hadley being out at night, and I thought he would be at
-the dinner-table, and I quite safe--safer, indeed, than in the day. I
-was only anxious for my father, and for him I was very anxious.
-However, I walked on fast, and soon came to the downs, but I could see
-no one, and taking the slanting path up the slope, I came just to the
-edge of the cliff, and looked out over the sea to Barhampton Head.
-There was nothing to be seen there, and only a light in a ship at sea.
-That made me more frightened than ever, for I had felt sure that I
-should find my father there; and thinking that he might have sat down
-somewhere to wait, I called him aloud, to beg he would come home.
-There was no answer, but I heard a step coming up the path which runs
-between the two slopes, and then goes down over the lower broken part
-of the cliff to the sea-shore; and feeling sure that it was either my
-father, or Connor, or one of the boatmen, who would not have hurt me
-for the world, I was just turning to go down that way when Lord Hadley
-sprang up the bank, and caught hold of me by the hand. I besought him
-to let me go, and then I was very frightened indeed, so that I hardly
-knew, or know, what I said or did. All I am sure of is that he tried
-to persuade me to go away with him to France; and he told me there was
-a ship for that country out there at sea, and its boat with the
-boatmen down upon the shore, for he had spoken to them in the morning.
-He said a great deal that I forget, telling me that he would marry me
-as soon as we arrived in France; but I was very angry--too angry,
-indeed--and what I said in reply seemed to make him quite furious, for
-he swore that I should go, with a terrible oath. I tried to get away,
-but he kept hold of my hand, and threw his other arm round me, and was
-dragging me away down the path towards the sea-shore, when suddenly my
-father came up and struck him. I had not been able to resist much, on
-account of my broken arm, but the moment my father came up he let me
-go, and returned the blow he had received. We were then close upon the
-edge of the cliff, and there is, if you recollect, a low railing,
-where the path begins to descend. My father struck him again and
-again, and at last he fell back against the railing, which broke, I
-think, under his weight, and oh! father, I saw him fall headlong over
-the cliff. I thought I should have died at that moment, and before I
-recovered myself my father had taken me by the hand and was leading me
-away. When we had got a hundred yards or two, I stopped, and asked if
-it would not be better to go or send down to the sea-shore, to see if
-some help could not be rendered to him. My father said he had heard
-the boatmen come to assist him, and that was enough.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Clive had covered his eyes with his hand while Helen spoke; but at her
-last words he looked up, saying, in a stern tone, &quot;Quite enough! He
-well deserved what he has met with. I did not intend it, it is true;
-but whether he be dead or living, he has only had the chastisement he
-merited. I had heard but an hour or two before all his base conduct to
-this dear child--I had heard that he had outraged, insulted,
-persecuted her; and although I had promised Norries not to kill him,
-yet I had resolved, the first time I met with him, to flay him alive
-with my horsewhip. I found him again insulting her; and can any man
-say I did wrong to punish the base villain on the spot? I regret it
-not; I would do it again, be the consequences what they may; and so I
-will tell judge and jury whenever I am called upon to speak.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I trust that may never be, my son,&quot; replied the priest, looking at
-him with an expression of melancholy interest; &quot;and I doubt not at all
-that, if you follow the advice which I will give you, suspicion will
-never even attach to you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I shall be very happy, father, to hear your advice,&quot; answered Clive;
-&quot;but I have no great fears of any evil consequences. People cannot
-blame me for striking a man who was insulting and seeking to wrong my
-child. I did but defend my own blood and her honour, and there is no
-crime in that.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;People often make a crime where there is none, Clive,&quot; answered Mr.
-Filmer. &quot;This young man is dead, and you must recollect that he was a
-peer of England.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That makes no difference,&quot; exclaimed Clive. &quot;Thank God we do not live
-in a land where the peer can do wrong any more than the peasant! I am
-sorry he is dead, for I did not intend to kill him; but he well
-deserved his death, and his station makes no difference.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;None in the eye of the law,&quot; replied Mr. Filmer, gravely; &quot;but it may
-make much in the ear of a jury. I know these things well, Clive; and
-depend upon it, that if this matter should come before a court of
-justice at the present time, especially when such wild acts have been
-committed by the people, you are lost. In the first place, you cannot
-prove the very defence you make----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, my child was there, and saw it all!&quot; cried Clive, interrupting
-him.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Her evidence would go for very little,&quot; answered the priest; &quot;and as
-I know you would not deny having done it, your own candour would ruin
-you. The best view that a jury would take of your case, even supposing
-them not to be worked upon by the rank of the dead man, could only
-produce a verdict of manslaughter, which would send you for life to a
-penal colony, to labour like a slave, perhaps in chains.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Clive started, and gazed anxiously in his face, as if that view of the
-case were new to him. &quot;Better die than that!&quot; he said; &quot;better die
-than that!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Assuredly,&quot; replied Mr. Filmer. &quot;But why should you run the risk of
-either? I tell you, if you will follow my advice, you shall pass
-without suspicion.&quot; But Clive waved his hand almost impatiently,
-saying, &quot;Impossible, father, impossible! I am not a man who can set a
-guard upon his lips; and I should say things from time to time which
-would soon lead men to see and know who it was that did it. I could
-not converse with any of my neighbours here without betraying myself.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then you must go away for a time,&quot; answered Filmer. &quot;That was the
-very advice I was going to give you. If you act with decision, and
-leave the country for a short time, I will be answerable for your
-remaining free from even a doubt.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The very way to bring doubt upon myself,&quot; answered Clive, with a
-short, bitter laugh. &quot;Would not every one ask why Clive ran away?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The answer would then be simple,&quot; said the priest, &quot;namely, that he
-went, probably, because he had engaged with his brother-in-law,
-Norries, in these rash schemes against the government which have been
-so signally frustrated this night at Barhampton.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;One crime instead of another!&quot; answered Clive, gloomily, bending down
-his brow upon his hands again.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;With this difference,&quot; continued Mr. Filmer, &quot;that the one will be
-soon and easily pardoned, the other never; that for the one you cannot
-be pursued into another land, that for the other you would be pursued
-and taken; that the one brings no disgrace upon your name, that the
-other blasts you as a felon, leaves a stain upon your child, deprives
-her of a parent, ruins her happiness for ever.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh fly, father, fly!&quot; cried Helen. &quot;Save yourself from such a
-horrible fate!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What! and leave you here unprotected!&quot; exclaimed Clive.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh no! let me go with you!&quot; cried Helen,</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Of course,&quot; said the priest. &quot;You cannot, and you must not go alone.
-Take Helen with you, and be sure that her devotion towards you will
-but increase and strengthen that strong affection which she has
-inspired in one worthy of her, and of whom she is worthy. I have
-promised you, Clive, or rather I should say, I have assured you, that
-your daughter shall be the wife of him she loves, ay, with his
-father's full consent. If you follow my advice, it shall be so; but do
-not suppose that Sir Arthur would ever suffer his son to marry the
-daughter of a convict. As it is, he knows that your blood is as good
-as his own, and that the only real difference is in fortune; but with
-a tainted name the case would be very different. There would be an
-insurmountable bar against their union, and you would make her whole
-life wretched, as well as cast away your own happiness for ever.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But how can I fly?&quot; asked Clive. &quot;The whole thing will be known
-to-morrow, and ere I reached London I should be pursued and taken.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There is a shorter way than that,&quot; answered Filmer, &quot;and one that
-cannot fail.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The French ship!&quot; cried Helen, with a look of joy.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Even so,&quot; rejoined the priest; &quot;she will sail in a few hours. You
-have nothing to do but send down what things you need as fast as
-possible, get one of the boats to row you out, embark, and you are
-safe. I will give you letters to a friend in Brittany, who will show
-you all kindness, and you can remain there at peace till I tell you
-that you may safely return.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Clive paused, and seemed to hesitate for a moment or two; but Helen
-gazed imploringly in his face, and at length he threw his arms around
-her, saying, &quot;I will go, my child; I have no right to make you
-wretched also. Were it for myself alone, nothing should make me run
-away; but now nothing must induce me to sacrifice you. Go, Helen; get
-ready quickly. Perhaps they may think that I have had some share in
-this tumult, and suspicion pass away in that manner.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Undoubtedly they will,&quot; rejoined Mr. Filmer; &quot;and I will take care to
-give suspicion that direction. Be quick, Helen: but do you not need
-some one to aid you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will get the girl Margaret,&quot; said Helen Clive, &quot;for I am very
-helpless.&quot; And closing the door, she departed.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What shall I do with the farm?&quot; inquired Clive, as soon as she was
-gone. &quot;I fear everything will go to ruin.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not so, not so,&quot; answered Mr. Filmer, cheerfully. &quot;I will see that it
-is well attended to; and though, perhaps, something may go wrong,
-against which nothing but the owner's eye can secure, yet nothing like
-ruin shall take place. And now, hasten away, Clive, and make your own
-preparations. No time is to be lost; for if the people on board the
-ship learn that the attack upon Barhampton has failed, they may
-perhaps put to sea sooner than the hour they had appointed. I will
-write the letter while you are getting ready, and I will go down with
-you to the beach, and see you off.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">About three quarters of an hour passed in some hurry and confusion,
-ere Clive and his daughter were prepared to set out. The priest's
-letter was written and sealed; a man was called up to wheel some boxes
-and trunks down to the shore; and various orders and directions were
-given for the management of the farm during Clive's absence. The
-servants seemed astonished, but asked no questions; and Mr. Filmer
-skilfully let drop some words which, when remembered at an after
-period, might connect the flight of Mr. Clive with the mad attempt
-upon the town of Barhampton. When all was completed, they set forth on
-foot, passing through the narrow lanes in the neighbourhood of the
-house, till they reached and crossed the high road, and then,
-following one of the little dells through the downs, descended by a
-somewhat rugged path to the sea-side. Some of the boatmen were already
-up, preparing to put to sea; and as Clive had often been a friend to
-all of them, no difficulty was made in fulfilling his desire. The sea
-was as calm as a small lake; and though the water was too low to
-launch one of their large boats easily, yet a small one was pushed
-over the sands, and Helen and her father stood beside it, ready to
-embark, when a quick step, running over the beach, was heard, and Mr.
-Filmer exclaimed, &quot;Quick, quick, into the boat, and put off!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is Edgar's foot,&quot; said Helen, hanging back. &quot;Oh, let me wait,
-and bid him adieu! I know it is Edgar's foot!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The ear of love is quick,&quot; said Mr. Filmer. &quot;I did not recognise it;&quot;
-and in another moment Edgar Adelon stood beside them.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have been to the house,&quot; he said, &quot;and they told me where to seek
-you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We are forced to go away for a time by some unpleasant circumstances,
-Mr. Adelon,&quot; said Clive, gravely.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I know--I know it all,&quot; answered Edgar, quickly. &quot;I watched the whole
-attack from the hill. It was a strange, ghastly sight, and I will not
-stop you, Mr. Clive, for it would be ruin to stay; but let me speak
-one word to dear Helen--but one word, and I will not keep you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The father made no opposition; he knew what it was to love well, and
-he would not withhold the small drop of consolation from the bitter
-cup of parting. Edgar drew the fair girl a few steps aside, and they
-spoke together earnestly for a few minutes. He then pressed her hand
-affectionately in his, and each repeated &quot;For ever!&quot; Then leading her
-back towards the boat, against the sides of which the water was now
-rising, he shook Clive's hand warmly, saying, &quot;God bless and protect
-you! Let me put her in the boat.&quot; And before any one could answer, he
-had lifted Helen tenderly in his arms, walked with her into the
-shallow water, and placed her in the little bark. Clive followed,
-after another word or two with Mr. Filmer; the boatmen pushed off, and
-the prow went glittering through the waves. Edgar Adelon stood and
-gazed, till Mr. Filmer touched him on the arm, saying, &quot;Come, my son;&quot;
-and then, with a deep sigh, the young man followed him towards the
-cliffs.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I must go back to the Grange for my horse,&quot; said Edgar, as the priest
-was turning along the high road towards Brandon.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Better send for it,&quot; said Mr. Filmer. &quot;Your father has returned, and
-may inquire for you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is strange,&quot; said Edgar, following him. &quot;I could have sworn I saw
-his tall bay hunter among the people at Barhampton.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You might well be mistaken,&quot; answered Mr. Filmer; &quot;but whatever
-you saw, Edgar, take my advice, and say to no one that you saw
-anything--no, not to Eda.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar did not reply, and the rest of their walk passed in silence till
-they reached the gates of the park. They were open, and a man was
-standing at the lodge door, with whom the priest paused to speak for
-an instant, while Edgar, at his request, walked on. Mr. Filmer
-overtook the young man ere he had gone a hundred yards, and as they
-approached the house, he said, &quot;You had better go straight to your
-room, and to bed, Edgar. Unpleasant things have happened. Eda has
-retired, your father has another magistrate with him, and neither your
-presence nor mine will be agreeable.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;To my own room, certainly,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon; &quot;but not to bed,
-nor to sleep, father. I have need of thought more than rest;&quot; and when
-the door was opened, he passed straight through the hall, taking a
-light from the servant, and mounting the stairs towards his own room.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XX.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">We must now return for a short time to Mr. Dudley, having brought up
-many of the other personages connected with this tale nearly to the
-same point at which we last left himself. As soon as he had entered
-the lodge in the custody of the two constables, he demanded in a calm
-tone to see their warrant, entertaining but little doubt that he had
-been apprehended for taking some share in the riots of which he had
-been a witness, and that the ignorance of the men who held him in
-custody had occasioned the use of such very vague and unsatisfactory
-terms as 'murder or manslaughter, as the case may be.' What was his
-astonishment, however, when he read as follows:--</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;To the Constable of the Hundred of ----, in the County of ----, and
-all the other Peace Officers of the same County.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Forasmuch as Patrick Ferrars, of the parish of Brandon, in the said
-county, servant, hath this day made information before me, Stephen
-Conway, Esquire, one of her Majesty's justices of the peace, in and
-for the said county, that he hath just cause to suspect, and doth
-suspect, that Edward Dudley, Esquire, on the ---- day of ----, in the
-year of our Lord 18--, at or near the place called Clive Down, in the
-said parish of Brandon, in the said county, feloniously, wilfully, and
-of his malice aforethought, did kill and murder Henry Lord Hadley, by
-striking him sundry blows, and throwing him over the cliff at the said
-place, by which the said Lord Hadley instantly died: these are
-therefore to command you, or one of you, in her Majesty's name,
-forthwith to apprehend and bring before me, or some other of her
-Majesty's justices of the peace, in and for the said county, the body
-of the said Edgar Dudley, to answer unto the said charge, and be
-farther dealt with according to law. Herein fail not.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Good heaven!&quot; he exclaimed, in a tone of astonishment, which could
-not be assumed; &quot;do you mean to say that Lord Hadley has been killed?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Come, come, master, that won't do,&quot; said the dull brute into whose
-hands he had fallen. &quot;You know all about it, I dare say. You must
-march into that 'ere room till to-morrow morning, for there's no use
-in taking you twenty miles to the jail, to bring you back again
-tomorrow to the crowner's 'quest.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It was with great difficulty that Dudley restrained his temper. The
-charge at first sight seemed to him ridiculous, and he would have
-scoffed at it, if horror at the fate of his unhappy pupil had not
-occupied his mind so completely that no light thought could find
-place.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I ask you civilly, sir,&quot; he said, moving into the room pointed out,
-closely followed by the constables, &quot;to give me some information in
-regard to facts which I must know to-morrow morning, and in which I am
-deeply interested. If you are so discourteous as to refuse me an
-answer, I cannot force you; but at the same time I suppose there is
-nobody on earth but yourself who would think of denying me some
-information respecting a friend who, I gather from your warrant, has
-been killed.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Very like a friend to pitch him over the cliff!&quot; answered the
-constable. &quot;Howsumdever, the magistrates know all about it, and you
-had better wait and talk to them, for if you talk more to me I shall
-send down for the handcuffs: a fool I was for not bringing them with
-me. We shall sit up with ye by turns, for I am not going to let ye get
-off, master, you may depend upon it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley only replied by a contemptuous smile, and, seating himself in a
-chair, he gave himself up to thought, while the one constable took a
-place opposite, and the other retired and locked the door. For nearly
-two hours Dudley remained meditating over the strange turn which had
-taken place in his fate; and as he reflected upon various
-circumstances which had occurred during the evening, his situation
-began to assume a more serious aspect than it had at first presented.
-Not that he supposed, for one moment, he was in the slightest danger,
-for his consciousness of innocence was too great to admit of his
-believing that, when his whole conduct was explained, even a suspicion
-would rest upon him; but he recollected the violent dispute which he
-had had with Lord Hadley in the morning, in the presence of several
-witnesses, and also called to mind that when he had gone out after
-dinner, in order to fulfil his promises to Eda, he had been followed
-and overtaken by Lord Hadley, and that the first part, at least, of
-their conversation had been carried on in a sharp and angry tone. He
-remembered, too, that they had met several people, and that though in
-the end the young nobleman had seemed somewhat touched by his
-remonstrances, and surprised and vexed at his decided resignation of
-all farther responsibility regarding his conduct, no one had witnessed
-the more moderate and kindly manner in which they had parted, or could
-prove that they had parted at all before the fatal occurrence of which
-he had such vague information. The attempt to extract anything more
-from the constable he saw would be in vain, though he thirsted for
-intelligence; and his thoughts, after dwelling for some time upon his
-own case, naturally turned to the unhappy youth who had been cut off
-at so early a period, in the midst of a career of folly and vice. He
-could not help sighing over such a result; for notwithstanding
-headstrong passions, and a certain degree of weakness of character,
-which would have prevented Lord Hadley from ever becoming a great man,
-Dudley had perceived some traits of goodness in his nature, which,
-under right direction, either by the care of wise and prudent friends,
-or by the chastening rod of adversity, might have been so guided as to
-render him an estimable and useful member of society. His mind
-reverted to his own young days, and he recollected wild schemes, rash
-enterprises, some faults and follies which he now greatly regretted;
-and he thought, &quot;If I had gone on, the pampered child of prosperity, I
-might perhaps have been like him.&quot; He did himself injustice, it is
-true, but still the fancy was a natural one; and he felt, at least,
-that in his case 'the uses of adversity had been sweet.'</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The body and the mind are alternately slaves to each other. When
-stimulated to strong exertion, the mind conquers the body; when
-oppressed with fatigue or sickness, the body conquers the mind; but
-the powers of both seem sometimes worn out together, and then sleep is
-the only resource: that heavy, overpowering sleep, the temporary death
-of all the faculties; when no memory of the past, no knowledge of the
-present, no expectation of the future, comes in dreams to rouse even
-fancy from the benumbing influence that overshadows us. Such was the
-case with Dudley at the end of those two hours. He had gone out early
-in the morning in the pursuit of healthful exercise; but in the course
-of his ramble with Edgar Adelon, subjects had arisen which moved him
-deeply. His young companion, with all the warm enthusiasm and
-confidence of his nature, had poured forth to him all the stores of
-grief, anxiety, and indignation, which had been accumulating in
-silence and in secret since first he had become aware of Lord Hadley's
-pursuit of Helen; and Dudley, entering warmly into his feelings, had
-chosen his course at once. He had determined to speak decidedly to his
-pupil; to place before his eyes the scandal and the wickedness of that
-which he was engaged in; to demand that it should either cease at
-once, or he quit Brandon; and in case he refused, to resign all
-farther control over him, and instantly to make the young peer's
-relations in London aware of the fact and the cause. Then had come the
-fierce and angry discussion with Lord Hadley, followed by an agitating
-conversation with Eda; another dispute with his pupil, perhaps more
-painful than the first; the hurried and anxious walk to Barhampton,
-and the troubled scene which had taken place there. He was exhausted,
-mentally and corporeally; and at the end of two hours he slept,
-leaning his head upon his folded arms, and remaining so still and
-silent, that it seemed as if death rather than slumber possessed him.
-His sleep lasted long, too, and he was aroused only by some one
-shaking him roughly by the shoulder on the following morning. Dudley
-started up, and wondered where he was; but gradually a recollection of
-all the facts returned; and the man's words: &quot;Come, master, the
-crowner is sitting,&quot; required no explanation.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Somewhat to Dudley's surprise, when he reached the door of the lodge,
-he found the carriage of Sir Arthur Adelon waiting for him; and
-entering with one constable, while the other took his seat upon the
-box, he was driven up the avenue to Brandon House. The servants at the
-door showed no signs of want of respect, and he was immediately
-conducted between his two captors into the library, where he found a
-number of persons assembled in a confused mass at the end of the room,
-and the coroner's jury seated round the large table, near the windows.
-In the centre was a portly man in a white waistcoat, with a pompous,
-wine-empurpled face, and an exceedingly bald head, whom he concluded
-rightly to be the coroner. Several magistrates were also in the room,
-amongst whom were two persons with whom he had dined at the table of
-Sir Arthur Adelon a few days before; but Dudley looked in vain for the
-baronet himself, or for any well-known and friendly face. He wanted no
-support, it is true; for he was not timid by nature, and he was
-conscious of innocence; but yet he would have felt well pleased to
-have had friends around him. One of the magistrates shook hands with
-him, however, and the other bowed; while some people near the coroner
-whispered to that officer, whose eyes were instantly fixed upon the
-new comer.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Edward Dudley, I believe,&quot; he said, aloud; and when Dudley
-signified that it was so by bending his head, the other continued:
-&quot;Although not strictly necessary, sir, inasmuch as this is an inquest
-for the purpose of ascertaining how a certain person met with his
-death, and we consequently as yet know nothing of accused or accusers,
-yet, as I have been given to understand that a warrant has been issued
-for your apprehension under the hand of my worshipful friend, Mr.
-Conway, I have thought it best that you should be present, in order
-that you should watch proceedings in which you are deeply interested.
-You will remark that it is not necessary for you to say anything upon
-this occasion, and to do so or not must be left to your own
-discretion.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I thank you for your caution, sir,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;although, having
-been bred to the bar, it was not so necessary in my case as it might
-be in some. I have no knowledge of the circumstances which have caused
-any suspicion to fall upon me, and shall hear with interest the
-evidence which may be given regarding facts that I am utterly
-unacquainted with.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ahem!&quot; said the coroner. &quot;We will now hear the witnesses in the
-natural order, gentlemen of the jury. By the natural order, I mean the
-order in which the facts connected with the discovery happened. Our
-first question will be, where and how the body was found; next, whose
-the body is--for you will remark, gentlemen of the jury, that at the
-present moment all we know is, that the body of a dead man has been
-found under exceedingly suspicious circumstances, and we must have it
-identified; then we must inquire how he came by his death. If the
-person who first found the corpse is in court, let him stand forward.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A man of somewhat more than six feet high, in a round jacket and
-oilskin hat, advanced to the table, and gave his evidence in a very
-clear and intelligent manner, saying, &quot;I was standing out upon the
-sand last night, near upon low water----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Where at?&quot; asked the coroner. &quot;Pray describe the place as accurately
-as possible.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, it was just between Gullpoint and our cottages at St. Martin's,&quot;
-replied the boatman; &quot;and the hour might be about eight, or near it.
-The water was not quite out, so it must have been about eight. I was
-standing looking out after the French brig, which had been making
-signals like, with lights of different colours, which I did not
-understand, when all in a minute I heard some one give a sort of loud
-cry, just as if they had been hurt or frightened. It came from the
-land, and I heard it quite plain, for the wind set off shore, and
-turning round, I looked up in the way that the sound seemed to come
-from----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Was it moonlight?&quot; asked the coroner.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Lord bless you, no, sir!&quot; replied the boatman; &quot;but the night was not
-very dark, for that matter. However, as I turned, I heard a bit of a
-row at the top of the cliff, and I could see two men standing up there
-close together, one a tall man, t'other a little shorter; and the tall
-one hit the other twice or three times, and then down he came. I could
-see him fall back, but after that I lost him, for you see, sir, as he
-tumbled down the cliff, it was darker there. When they were a-top,
-they had got the sky behind them; but when he fell, he got into the
-gloom, and I saw no more of him, till hearing a cry almost like that
-of a gull, only louder, I ran up as hard as I could. As I came over
-the shingle near the cliff, I heard a groan or two, and just below the
-rock I found the young man who is in t'other room, lying with his feet
-to the beach and his head to the cliff; so, you see, he must have
-turned right over, once at least, as he tumbled.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What distance were you from the cliff when you saw the two men
-quarrelling?&quot; asked the coroner.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It might be a hundred yards or more,&quot; replied the boatman; &quot;perhaps
-two.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And did you see them clearly?&quot; inquired the officer.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Clear enough to see what they were about,&quot; answered the fisherman,
-&quot;but not to see their faces.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You have said one was tall, the other shorter,&quot; continued the
-coroner; &quot;do you see any one here of the height of the taller one, as
-far as you can judge?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man looked round him, and it so unfortunately happened that
-Dudley, anxious to hear all the evidence, had taken a step or two
-forward. The boatman's eyes instantly fell upon him, and pointing him
-out with his hand, he said, &quot;Much about that gentleman's height, I
-should think.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Do you mean to say, that you think he was the man?&quot; asked the
-coroner, while a slight frown came over Dudley's face.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, that's another case,&quot; answered the stout boatman. &quot;All that I
-could see, as they stood and I stood, was, that the one was taller
-than the other a good bit, and that the tall one knocked the short one
-over the cliff.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The three succeeding witnesses were of the same class and profession
-as the first; but they proved nothing more than the finding of the
-injured man, his insensible condition when they came up, and his
-death, without having spoken, as they carried him to Brandon House.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I think we must have the evidence of Sir Arthur Adelon,&quot; said the
-coroner, looking towards one of the servants, several of whom were in
-the room. &quot;Pray present my compliments to him, and say that I should
-be glad of his presence for a few moments.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur, however, did not appear immediately; and when he entered,
-there was a good deal more agitation in his manner than he could have
-desired. His first act was to shake hands with Dudley, in a friendly,
-even a warm manner; and the coroner, rising, bowed low to one of the
-great men of the neighbourhood, apologising for troubling him, as he
-called it.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is necessary, Sir Arthur,&quot; he said, &quot;to make a few inquiries, as I
-am given to understand that the unfortunate young nobleman who met
-with his death last night in so tragical a manner, has been for some
-days an inmate of your house, as well as the gentleman who labours
-under suspicion--as to whether you are aware of any circumstance
-tending to corroborate the charge--any quarrel, I mean, between the
-parties, or anything likely to produce so fatal a result?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Of nothing in the world,&quot; replied Sir Arthur Adelon, in a frank tone.
-&quot;Lord Hadley and my friend, Mr. Dudley, have always appeared, in my
-presence, at least, upon the very best terms. What took place
-yesterday I am not aware of, as I was out the greater part of the day,
-until late in the evening, having heard very unpleasant rumours, which
-have proved, alas! too correct, and wishing to ascertain the facts,
-and to see what could best be done for the good of the community.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">His eye glanced to Dudley's face as he uttered the last somewhat vague
-and double-meaning words; but the countenance he looked at remained
-perfectly calm and firm, without the slightest perceptible change of
-expression.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then you have no cause, Sir Arthur,&quot; inquired the coroner, &quot;to
-suppose Mr. Dudley at all implicated in this transaction?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;From my own personal knowledge, none in the world,&quot; answered the
-baronet. &quot;There are always rumours afloat after deeds are done, but if
-my deliberate opinion could have any weight, I should say that Mr.
-Dudley is perfectly incapable of intentionally injuring any man. That
-he would do much to save or serve a fellow-creature, I believe; but
-nothing to wrong or aggrieve one.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;High testimony,&quot; said the coroner, in a pompous tone. &quot;I am much
-obliged, Sir Arthur;&quot; and looking at a slip of paper which he held in
-his hand, he pronounced the name of Patrick Ferrers. The butler at
-Brandon House immediately stood forward, and without much questioning,
-made a deposition somewhat to the following effect:--&quot;I knew the late
-Lord Hadley; I have known him since he has been at Brandon House. He
-was the same gentleman whose body now lies in the dining-room. He was
-here about ten days before he met with his death. I know also the
-prisoner, Mr. Dudley, I never saw any quarrel between them till
-yesterday, when Mr. Dudley and Lord Hadley came home about the same
-time together, and Mr. Dudley insisted on speaking in private with
-Lord Hadley. Mr. Dudley seemed a little cross, and they went into this
-room together. I went in the mean time to fetch some letters which had
-been brought while they were out. When I came back, I saw Lord Hadley
-coming out of the library, Seemingly in a great passion. He shook his
-fist at Mr. Dudley, and seemed to be using very hard words, which I
-did not hear. Mr. Dudley was then a step or two behind him, but he
-seemed very angry too, though not so angry as his lordship; and I
-could hear every word he said, though perhaps I cannot recollect them
-exactly now, but I know that they were something like, 'You had better
-take care what you say of me, my lord, for if you treat me
-disrespectfully, I will punish you, depend upon it.'&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The coroner looked towards Mr. Dudley, who observed, in a quiet tone,
-&quot;The words were not exactly those, but the meaning is given with
-sufficient accuracy.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Go on,&quot; said the coroner. &quot;Did you observe anything of a similar
-nature during the rest of the day?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;About an hour after,&quot; continued the butler, &quot;Lord Hadley went out
-again, Mr. Dudley followed him, and I heard the gamekeeper say----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We must have nothing upon hearsay,&quot; exclaimed the coroner; &quot;the
-gamekeeper, I dare say, can answer for himself. Speak to what is
-within your own knowledge.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;When Mr. Dudley came back, I was in the hall. The porter let him in,
-but we both remarked that he looked a deal ruffled. At dinner, he and
-Lord Hadley seemed very cool and snappish to each other; and
-immediately after dinner Mr. Dudley went out, and Lord Hadley went
-after him, asking Brown, the head footman, which way the other
-gentleman had gone. I heard him myself, so that I can speak to; and
-that is the last I saw or heard of either of them, till his lordship's
-body was brought in last night, and Mr. Dudley came here this
-morning.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;John Brown!&quot; said the coroner, and the head footman stood forward. He
-corroborated the greater part of the butler's testimony, and added but
-little else, except an expression of his own opinion that the young
-lord and Mr. Dudley had been out of sorts with each other, as he
-termed it, all the preceding day.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The gamekeeper was then brought forward, and stated, that he was just
-walking away from the house, after having been out with Mr. Dudley and
-Mr. Adelon during the whole morning, when the former came up to him
-with a quick step, asked which way the young nobleman had taken, and
-followed him as fast as he could go.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man and woman at the lodge were then called, and proved that, a
-little before eight on the preceding night, they were standing
-together at the door of their cottage, when the young peer and Mr.
-Dudley passed out of the park. The man said that they were talking
-very angrily, and the woman that they were speaking very quick, but
-she remembered hearing Mr. Dudley say, &quot;Such conduct is most
-reprehensible, my lord, and will receive chastisement sooner or
-later.&quot; Both she and her husband deposed that the young peer and Mr.
-Dudley took their way towards the Downs, and a labourer stated that he
-had seen two gentlemen going on in the same direction, one of whom was
-tall like the prisoner, and the other somewhat shorter. &quot;They were
-then speaking quick and sharp,&quot; he said, &quot;and one of them was tossing
-his arms about a good deal.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A pause for a moment or two succeeded, and then the coroner raised his
-voice, saying, &quot;Is there any one else who can give evidence in this
-case? Let it be recollected that it is the bounden duty of all men,
-when a crime has been committed, to assist in bringing the criminal to
-justice.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Please your worship,&quot; said a tall, raw-boned man, coming forward
-towards the table, &quot;I think I can say a word or two, if you would be
-kind enough to hear me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We are here to listen to every one who can speak to any facts
-connected with the death of the unfortunate young nobleman whose body
-has been lately viewed by the jury,&quot; was the coroner's reply. &quot;Speak
-to facts, without entering into hearsay, my good man; and in the first
-place, tell us what is your name and occupation?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am a labourer by trade, and my name is Daniel Connor,&quot; answered the
-witness; &quot;and as to facts, it's just them I've got to speak about, for
-I suppose I am the only man, except the boatman, who saw the thing
-done. I was just taking a walk quietly upon the Downs, over above St.
-Martin's when I saw the young lord--I've seen him many a time before
-down at Mr. Clive's farm--come walking along very dully like. I saw
-him quite well, though he didn't see me, for he was walking along the
-road in the little dell, and I was sitting down above.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, I thought you said you were walking,&quot; said the coroner.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;To be sure I was,&quot; answered Daniel Connor; &quot;sorrow a thing else. I
-was taking a walk and sitting down, your worship, as many a man does,
-I believe.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Was there any one else with Lord Hadley?&quot; asked the coroner.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That I can't just say,&quot; answered Connor. &quot;There was nobody close to
-him, or I should have seen them both at once, and there might be
-somebody not far off, as indeed there was; but you see, your worship,
-I leaned back upon the turf, for I didn't want to be disturbed in my
-meditations.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ah!&quot; said the coroner. &quot;Go on, my man.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, a minute after--it might be two minutes, perhaps, for I won't
-be particular as to that--I heard two men quarrelling, and looking up
-to the sky, I saw them clear enough.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What! in the sky?&quot; said the coroner.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, agin it,&quot; replied the witness; &quot;for both their feet were upon
-the ground at that time, but just at the edge of the cliff, where
-there's a bit of a rail. They were hitting each other about, and
-being a peaceable man anyhow, having had enough of rows in my own
-country--that's Ireland, your worship--I sat quite still, and then the
-one gave the other a great knock, and away he went back over the
-railing, and so I walked quietly home, and saw no more.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Be so good as to describe the man who struck the other, and knocked
-him over the cliff,&quot; said the coroner.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, that's mighty difficult to do,&quot; answered Daniel Connor, &quot;seeing
-that they were fifty yards off and more, and looked just like two
-black shadows on the wall.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Did you ever see him before?&quot; demanded the crown officer, somewhat
-impatiently.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Maybe I have,&quot; answered the witness; &quot;but I should not just like to
-say for certain.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But you had no doubt in the case of Lord Hadley,&quot; rejoined the
-coroner.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That was natural like,&quot; answered Daniel Connor; &quot;for he came within
-ten yards of me, and t'other was a good bit farther off when I saw
-him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Let me try, Mr. Coroner,&quot; said the foreman of the jury. &quot;Was he a
-tall man or a short man, witness?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! it was a tall man he was,&quot; replied Connor; &quot;I dare say an inch
-taller than I am, and I'm no bantam.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Did you ever see that gentleman before?&quot; continued the foreman,
-pointing out Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I think I have, your honour,&quot; answered the witness.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Was he the man you saw strike Lord Hadley on the cliff?&quot; demanded the
-coroner, in a stern tone.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I shouldn't just like to swear,&quot; answered Daniel Connor; &quot;but he's
-not unlike him, any how.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">For the first time a sense of danger reached Dudley's bosom; and
-stepping forward at once, he placed himself directly before the
-witness, and gazed sternly in his face. An impression--a feeling,
-without any apparent cause, and which he could not account for
-himself, took possession of him, that the man was wilfully giving
-untrue evidence. But his severe searching look had no effect upon the
-mind of Daniel Connor. It was under a more powerful influence; and
-though in reality by no means a bad or malicious man, yet, relying
-upon the assurances of the priest, he looked upon the matter between
-Dudley and himself rather as a game that they were playing than
-anything else; and the same shrewd, momentary smile passed over his
-countenance which had once crossed it while conversing with the priest
-during the preceding night. He gave a glance at the prisoner's face,
-and in answer, as it seemed, to his gaze, he said, &quot;Ay--yes, sir, you
-are mighty like him, any how; but I should not just like to swear.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Will you allow me, sir, to ask this man some questions?&quot; inquired
-Dudley, addressing the coroner.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Undoubtedly,&quot; replied that officer; &quot;and the jury will be very happy
-to hear any explanation you may have to give regarding this affair.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Now, answer me truly,&quot; said Dudley. &quot;What were you doing upon the
-Downs at that hour of the night?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Just taking a walk, your honour,&quot; replied the man.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And what had you been engaged in all day?&quot; demanded Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I had been ploughing all the morning from daylight till dinner-time,&quot;
-answered Connor; &quot;and arter that, I had been doing a many little jobs
-about the farm.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And yet after that you went to take a long walk over the Downs,&quot; said
-Dudley. &quot;Now will you swear that Lord Hadley did not come up the road
-you mention, alone.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, I won't swear that,&quot; replied Connor, &quot;for I did not see. He was
-alone, sure enough, when I first set eyes upon him; but you see, your
-honour, some one must have been very near him, for a minute or two
-arter, some one pitched him over the cliff.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Was he walking fast or slow?&quot; asked Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Mighty slow, considering that it was a cold night,&quot; answered the
-witness.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And yet you thought fit to sit down and meditate on that cold night,&quot;
-remarked Dudley. &quot;Did you hear any words spoken between the young
-nobleman and the man who killed him?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, ay! there was plenty of talk,&quot; replied Connor, &quot;but I didn't hear
-what they said.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Now, you have said that you knew Lord Hadley at once,&quot; continued
-Dudley; &quot;it was a dark night, and he was down in a road below you, you
-assert; and yet you declare that you cannot be sure of who was the man
-who afterwards struck him, though they were then both clear out
-against the blue sky.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I didn't say I wasn't sure,&quot; answered the witness, somewhat
-maliciously. &quot;I may be sure enough, and yet not like to swear, your
-honour.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley asked several other questions, but they were to no purpose, or
-only served to confirm the impression already produced. He himself
-felt that it was so; and with a slight touch of that eager impatience
-which had once been strong in his disposition, before adversity had
-tamed it, he exclaimed, turning towards the jury, &quot;I know not,
-gentlemen, what is this man's object--perhaps, indeed, I ought not to
-assume that he has any object--but all his words are evidently
-calculated to give you a false view of the case. As has been sworn by
-other persons, I did go out yesterday, immediately after dinner. I was
-joined by Lord Hadley. There was some discussion between us as we
-walked along, but it was not of so angry character as that of the
-morning; and allow me to say, that the dispute between us was entirely
-as between tutor and pupil. I found it necessary to reprehend some
-part of Lord Hadley's conduct, and he being very nearly of age,
-angrily resisted all authority, and refused to listen to my counsel.
-As we walked along together last night, although there were occasional
-bursts of passion on his part, I thought that my arguments had
-produced some effect, and we parted at a spot where the high road
-towards Barhampton is traversed by the path leading from Clive Grange
-over the downs, and through the brake in the hills to the sea-shore.
-He was then calm, though somewhat gloomy; and I walked on nearly to
-Barhampton, where I was a witness to a very serious riot. I returned
-immediately towards Brandon, and was seized in the avenue by two
-constables, who refused to give me any information farther than merely
-showing their warrant. I call God to witness that I never saw Lord
-Hadley after we parted at the cross-road! This is all I have to say,
-and the only explanation of my conduct that can be given.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps, sir, you will have the goodness to inform us what it was
-that took you to Barhampton at so late an hour,&quot; said the coroner.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur Adelon, who had been standing near the table, drew back,
-and walked towards the end of the room, as if about to quit it, but
-paused amongst the crowd before he reached the door. Dudley remarked
-the movement of apprehension; but he was resolved not to betray him on
-any account, and he replied, after a moment's pause, &quot;I went on
-private business, sir.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;A curious hour to transact business,&quot; said the coroner. &quot;Can you not
-explain the nature of it, even in general terms?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;In a certain degree, I have no objection,&quot; replied Dudley. &quot;It
-related to some papers belonging to my father, and I wished to say a
-few words upon the subject to a gentleman whom it was necessary for me
-to see that night. I had no means of seeing him at an earlier hour, or
-in every respect I should have preferred it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The coroner paused thoughtfully for a moment or two, and then asked,
-&quot;Have you anything to add, sir?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley signified that he had not, and the room was ordered to be
-cleared.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As soon as the coroner was alone with his jury, he addressed them in a
-somewhat long and florid speech, being a man rather fond of his own
-eloquence. His observations in regard to the general duties of persons
-in their situation, may be spared the reader; but after having
-discussed that topic for some time, he proceeded to comment upon the
-evidence. &quot;It is proved,&quot; he said, &quot;that Mr. Dudley and the
-unfortunate young nobleman had been upon bad terms during the whole of
-that day; that they had quarrelled, and used threatening language to
-each other; and that they continued in dispute till the last moment
-they were seen together. I do not wish to make the case worse than it
-is, gentlemen of the jury, or to say that Mr. Dudley went out with any
-evil intentions towards his pupil. There is no animus shown, and it
-must be recollected that he went out first, and his lordship followed;
-but I do mean to say we have it clearly before us, that they were both
-in that state of mind which rendered a quarrel of the most serious
-description, even to acts of violence, extremely probable. Then we
-trace them together for some way, on the road to the very spot where
-the fatal occurrence took place. Even by Mr. Dudley's account, not
-many minutes could have elapsed between the time at which he says they
-parted, and the time when Lord Hadley met with his death--hardly time
-enough for the young nobleman to have met and quarrelled with another
-man. Then we have the evidence of the fisherman or boatman, and the
-evidence of the labourer, Daniel Connor, each account confirming the
-other. The one says that the fatal blow was struck by a tall man, such
-as you have seen Mr. Dudley is; the other, that the person who
-quarrelled with, and ultimately killed Lord Hadley, was a tall man,
-very much like Mr. Dudley, though, from the darkness of the night he
-will not absolutely swear to him. Now, gentlemen, this is a very
-conclusive train of evidence taken by itself; but let us examine Mr.
-Dudley's own statement. He admits all the previous facts: the
-quarrelling in the morning; the going out at night; the being followed
-by Lord Hadley; their walk together towards the very spot; and their
-arrival at a place which, as far as my recollection serves, is only a
-few hundred yards from the scene of the tragedy. Mr. Dudley, indeed,
-says that he there left Lord Hadley, and walked on towards Barhampton,
-upon business of which he will give no distinct account. Doubtless he
-might walk to Barhampton, and that he did go somewhere is very clear,
-for he did not return to Brandon Park, we are informed, till about
-midnight; but it is just as probable as not, that he should wander
-about for some time after committing such an act as certainly was
-perpetrated by some one. That he did do so is not the slightest
-presumption of innocence, but rather, perhaps, the contrary. Then,
-again, we have to consider the conduct of Lord Hadley, and to ask
-ourselves was it probable that, after parting with Mr. Dudley, he
-should go on, in a cold unpleasant night, to stroll upon the downs,
-without, as far as we know, any object whatsoever. It is evident that,
-when he last went out from this house, he followed his tutor, to speak
-with him on the same painful subjects which had led to such severe
-quarrels in the morning. When their discussion was at an end, it would
-seem much more likely that he should return to Brandon House, where a
-pleasant family party was waiting his return. Such would probably have
-been his conduct if Mr. Dudley's statements were correct. But does it
-not naturally suggest itself to your minds, as much more likely, that
-the dispute was carried on vehemently between the two gentlemen; that
-the young nobleman took the path over the downs, followed, at some
-short distance, by his tutor; that more irritating words passed when
-they reached the top of the cliff, and that the fatal blow was struck
-which hurried the young nobleman into eternity. It is for you,
-gentlemen of the jury, to consider all these facts, and to decide upon
-your verdict. If you judge that the hand of Mr. Dudley did really slay
-the young nobleman, the manner of whose death is the subject of
-inquiry, you will have to choose between two courses. If you believe
-Mr. Dudley entertained a premeditated design to kill his pupil--of
-which, I confess, I see no trace in the evidence--you will bring in a
-verdict of 'Wilful Murder.' If, on the contrary, you think that the
-act was committed in a moment of hasty passion--for, remark, the fact
-of the blow not having been intended to produce death is no
-justification--you will then bring in a verdict of 'Manslaughter;' and
-whatever view you take, you will remember that this is only a
-preliminary inquiry, and that the person upon whom suspicion falls
-will have the opportunity, at an after period, of bringing forward any
-evidence he pleases, to prove his innocence.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The jury took very little time to deliberate. They were most of them
-sensible men, in a respectable station of life, perhaps a little too
-easily bent by the opinions of a superior; but even had not the
-coroner's own view of the case been so evident, they probably would
-have come to the same decision. After a few words had passed between
-them, to ascertain that they were all of one mind, their foreman
-returned a verdict of &quot;Manslaughter against Edward Dudley.&quot;</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXI.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">When Dudley was taken out of the library where the coroner's jury sat,
-he was surrounded in the hall by several persons, all eager to have
-some conversation with him. Mr. Conway, the magistrate who had signed
-the warrant for his apprehension, spoke to him in a good-humoured way,
-expressing his sorrow that he had been called upon to perform so
-unpleasant a duty. Dudley bowed stiffly, but did not reply, for he was
-neither pleased with the act nor the apology; but he was immediately
-succeeded by another magistrate, who, with as much kindness and more
-judgment, pressed him to call every little particular of his walk on
-the preceding night to his mind; to put them down while they were
-still fresh in his memory; and to try to recollect every one he had
-seen or spoken with between the period of his quitting Brandon and his
-return, in order to prepare an unbroken chain of evidence for his
-defence. &quot;I have known a man's life saved,&quot; he said, &quot;by keeping a
-note-book, in which he wrote down at night everything that had
-occurred to him during the day.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley thanked him for his suggestions, and felt that he did not
-believe him guilty; but at the same time he perceived very clearly
-that the magistrate concluded the coroner's jury would give a verdict
-against him. Almost at the same moment Sir Arthur Adelon came up, and
-with a very peculiar expression of countenance pressed his hand, but
-without speaking. The next moment Edgar came in from the park, through
-the glass doors. His whole appearance betrayed great agitation. His
-eye was flashing, his cheek flushed, and there was a nervous,
-excitable quivering of his lip as he approached Dudley, which told how
-much he was moved. He wrung the prisoner's hand hard, with a swimming
-moisture in his eyes which he seemed ashamed of; but his tongue failed
-him when he tried to speak, and all he could say was, &quot;Oh, Dudley!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You do not think me guilty, I am sure, my young friend,&quot; said Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Guilty!&quot; cried Edgar--&quot;guilty! Oh! no, no; guilty of nothing but of
-too high and noble a heart. I have been out all the morning since I
-heard of this dreadful affair, seeking for evidence all the way you
-went; but I have been able to find none. Which way did you take after
-you passed the lodge?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It matters not, Edgar, at present,&quot; answered Dudley. &quot;Many thanks for
-your kindness, but all that must be thought of hereafter. I can easily
-see how these good gentlemen will decide, and I must have counsel down
-from London, who will gather together the necessary testimony to prove
-my innocence of an act I never even dreamed of. I shall call upon your
-kindness, I dare say, Edgar, in the course of this affair.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Believe me, my dear sir,&quot; said Sir Arthur Adelon, &quot;nothing shall be
-wanting on my part to give you every assistance. I need not tell you
-that, as I said before the jury, I am fully and entirely convinced of
-your innocence, and shall ever remain so, being certain, from what I
-know of your character, that you are quite incapable of committing
-such an act, even in a moment of anger.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Let me add my assurance, also, Mr. Dudley,&quot; said the priest,
-approaching with his quiet step. &quot;You are not a man to give way to
-hasty bursts of passion.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I trust not, Mr. Filmer,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;and on the present
-occasion there was no provocation. In the morning, indeed, Lord Hadley
-used very intemperate language towards me; but at night, though he had
-evidently drunk more wine than was wise, yet, as I have often remarked
-with him before, the effect was to render him more placable and
-good-humoured.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Showing that he was not bad at heart,&quot; said Mr. Conway: &quot;<i>in vino
-veritas</i>, Mr. Dudley.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not think he was bad at heart, by any means,&quot; replied Dudley.
-&quot;Prosperity and weakness of character ought to bear many of the sins
-which are laid upon the shoulders of a bad disposition. I trust, Sir
-Arthur,&quot; he continued, &quot;you will have the kindness to break this sad
-event to poor Lady Hadley, who, although she has, thank heaven, other
-children to console her, will feel her loss most bitterly.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Some farther conversation of the same kind took place, during which
-the same little crowd continued round the prisoner, while Edgar Adelon
-kept his place close to Dudley's side, with a look of impatience and
-anxiety which led the latter to believe that his young friend had
-something of importance to communicate. It was by this time about
-half-past nine, the usual breakfast hour at Brandon House, and the
-spot where Dudley stood was directly opposite the foot of the great
-staircase. The two constables were close behind him; and as I said
-before, the magistrates and others who had been present at the inquest
-as spectators, had remained around him in the hall, not expecting that
-the coroner's address to his jury would be so tediously long as it
-proved.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They are a long time in finding their verdict,&quot; said one of the
-magistrates; and as he spoke Edgar Adelon crossed over to his father,
-and said, &quot;Would it not be better that we should wait in your
-justice-room? Eda will be down directly, depend upon it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I forgot--I forgot,&quot; said his father. &quot;I had better go and
-communicate to her what has taken place.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Does she not know?&quot; asked Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing, nothing,&quot; replied the baronet, and was advancing towards the
-stairs; but he was too late, for Miss Brandon had turned the first
-flight from her own room before he reached the foot. She paused for an
-instant, seeing such a number of people in the hall; but the next
-moment she proceeded, with a look of apprehension; for the sight at
-once awakened fears in regard to her uncle, though she had been
-assured, before she retired to rest the night preceding, that Sir
-Arthur had returned safe and well.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The baronet advanced to meet her; and Dudley, yielding to the impulse
-of his heart, took a step or two forward to say a few words, the last,
-perhaps, he might be able to speak to her for some months. Eda's eyes
-were fixed upon him as she came down the last two steps; but ere he
-could reach her the head constable caught him rudely by the collar,
-exclaiming, &quot;Come, come, master, I mustn't lose hold of ye, seeing as
-how this is a case of murder.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda gazed wildly in Dudley's face for an instant, and then dropped
-fainting on the floor of the hall.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Look to her, Edgar; look to her, Edgar!&quot; said Dudley, in a low voice.
-&quot;Do not let her alarm herself so. Tell her, for heaven's sake! that
-the charge is false, nay, absurd.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A number of persons ran forward to assist Miss Brandon, and carried
-her into the breakfast-room. At the same moment the door of the
-library opened, and the constables were ordered to bring in the
-prisoner. They hurried him in without ceremony, and he found the jury
-still seated round the table, and the coroner on his feet, with a
-written paper in his hand. &quot;The verdict of the jury,&quot; he said, aloud,
-&quot;is Manslaughter against Edward Dudley, Esquire. Constables, I have
-here made out a warrant for the committal of that gentleman to the
-county jail; but of course, if the magistrates who ordered his
-apprehension think fit to proceed with their own separate
-investigation of the case, it will be your duty to consult their
-convenience as to the time of his removal; and I will add, that you
-are bound to put him to no unnecessary inconvenience consistent with
-his safe custody, a course which I must say you do not seem to have
-followed hitherto.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The chief constable held down his head with a dogged look, but without
-reply; and Mr. Conway, standing forward, addressed the coroner,
-saying, &quot;I, as the magistrate who issued the warrant, do not see any
-necessity, sir, for taking this matter at all out of the hands of your
-court. The case has undergone here a very minute and well-conducted
-investigation, and I do not think anything could be added which may
-not quite as well be brought forward at the assizes.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The two gentlemen bowed to each other with mutual polite speeches, and
-Dudley was removed in custody of the two officers.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;A pack of fools,&quot; murmured Edgar Adelon, in no very inaudible tone;
-and following Dudley out of the room, he crossed the hall to the
-breakfast-room, when the constables seemed somewhat puzzled how to
-proceed with their prisoner. The next moment, however, Edgar returned
-with his father, who advanced direct towards Dudley, saying, &quot;I grieve
-very much, Mr. Dudley, that the jury have thought fit to come to this
-conclusion; but you must use my carriage over to ----, and as I am one
-of the visiting magistrates, I will take care that the short residence
-which you must submit to in a prison shall be rendered as little
-inconvenient to you as possible.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley thanked him for his kindness, took leave of Edgar, and in a few
-minutes was rolling away to a town at the distance of about sixteen
-miles, with one constable by his side, and the other on the box.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The first reflections of the prisoner were naturally not very
-pleasant; but those which succeeded were still less agreeable. A hard
-fate seemed to pursue him. Born to station, affluence, and ease, he
-had set out in life filled with bright hopes and eager expectations.
-The sparkling cup of youth had seemed replete with pleasant drops of
-every kind, and he had little dreamed, while such bright things
-appeared upon the surface, that there was such a bitter draught below.
-He had indulged in many a wild and ardent fancy, and sated, if not
-spoiled, by the cup of success, had longed, as every young man has
-longed, for change, for new pleasures, for pursuits opposite to those
-which he had followed, for enjoyments differing in their novelty to
-the joys which he had tasted. Ah! little does one know in youth, when
-we seek a change of condition, what it is we pray for. Even if that
-very alteration which we desire is granted to us, we find it loaded
-with evils unforeseen, with inherent cares and anxieties which we had
-never perceived, with consequences destructive of all our bright
-expectations. But how often does it happen that when pampered
-happiness seeks mere abstract change, from satiated appetite and the
-desire of fresh enjoyment, the chastening hand on high sends bitter
-reverses, to teach us the value of the blessings we despised, and to
-lead us to that humble thankfulness which is rarely to be found in the
-ungrateful heart of prosperity. Adverse fortune had fallen upon him
-early, and coming to a strong and thoughtful mind, had produced the
-full fruits of the wholesome lesson. Fortune, and all that fortune
-gives, had been lost, and even the society of a wise and affectionate
-parent had been taken away. He had had to soothe the departing hours
-of a beloved father through a long sickness; he had had to struggle
-with difficulties and to undertake labours never contemplated at the
-outset of his career; and now, when both love and fortune smiled upon
-him for an instant again, like a gleam of sunshine through a stormy
-cloud, the light seemed snatched away as soon as given, the flame of
-hope extinguished as soon as kindled. But he had felt and acknowledged
-the uses of adversity; and although, with the natural superstition
-which is in every man's heart, which led men in ancient, and even some
-in modern times, to believe in the ascendancy of a propitious or
-unpropitious star, he had first felt inclined to suppose that his evil
-fortunes dogged him as a destiny from which he could not fly, yet
-reason and religion taught him that the sorrows which are sent by the
-Almighty are ordained in mercy, and in the end, he said, &quot;This may be
-salutary too.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The first fruit of true Christian resignation is exertion; and giving
-up all useless ponderings upon the past, as he rode along, he turned
-to provide against the future; but strange to say, his thoughts became
-more gloomy as he did so. He tried to collect and arrange in his mind
-all the evidence he could bring forward in his defence; but with a
-feeling of pain and apprehension, to which he had never before given
-way, he perceived nothing that he could add at the assizes to that
-which had been brought forward before the coroner's jury. He had seen
-nobody from the moment when Lord Hadley quitted him, till he came upon
-the men on watch at Mead's Farm. Of these he knew not one even by
-name; and he was too clear-sighted not to perceive, even in his own
-case, that his having met them some time afterwards, was no proof
-whatever that he had not committed previously the act with which he
-was charged. To show an object in going out at that late hour of the
-evening might indeed have some effect; but yet he felt it would be
-impossible, with a regard to his own honour, for so small an
-advantage, to betray the confidence which had been placed in him, and
-to ruin Sir Arthur Adelon, with very little benefit to himself. One
-slight probability, indeed, in his favour might be raised, by his
-proving the cause of the angry discussions which had taken place
-between himself and Lord Hadley; and yet he felt a repugnance either
-to cast an imputation upon the dead, or to bring forward the name of
-Helen Clive under such circumstances. He did not indeed entertain such
-romantic notions of honour and chivalrous courtesy, as to think that
-it would be unjustifiable to do either, if his own safety absolutely
-depended upon it; but he resolved, in the first place, to consult his
-counsel as to whether it was necessary, and then to send a message to
-Mr. Clive, telling him that such was the case. With that exception he
-had nothing to add to what he had already said; and although it would
-tell in his favour to show that the dispute between himself and his
-pupil was honourable to himself, and showed a mind not likely to
-commit a crime, yet he saw very clearly that it was no distinct
-evidence of innocence. All these thoughts occupied him long; his
-companion, though more civil than before, was dull and gloomy; and
-Dudley was still meditating on his course, when the first houses of a
-town came in view, and then a large stone building, with emblematic
-fetters over the gate; and in two minutes more he was within the walls
-of a prison.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">There were two persons in Brandon House who suffered deeply on the
-morning when Dudley was carried away to prison; and each mistakenly
-encouraged some degree of self-reproach, such as none but delicate
-minds can feel, for having unwittingly and unwillingly placed one they
-loved in a dangerous and painful position. Eda Brandon thought, &quot;Had I
-not taxed his generosity to forgive, uninquiringly, injuries of which
-he knew not the extent, and to go forth to save from disgrace and
-danger the very man who had inflicted them, this false charge could
-never have been brought.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar Adelon said to himself, &quot;If I had not communicated to him all my
-suspicions regarding the conduct of this young reptile lord towards my
-sweet Helen, he would not, in a fit of generous indignation, have done
-that which has brought him into peril and sorrow. Oh, that I had had
-any other friend at hand to consult upon the conduct I should pursue!
-Oh, that Helen, telling me all, had justified me in driving forth the
-viper from my cousin's house! Oh, that Father Peter had not withheld
-the tale of all the insults that she suffered, till it was too late
-for me to act, and another had punished the offender as I ought to
-have done!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Such thoughts passed through his mind about two hours after Dudley's
-removal from Brandon, and while Eda was still in her own room, to
-which she had been carried as soon as the house had resumed its usual
-state. Mr. Filmer and Sir Arthur Adelon were closeted in the library;
-and the only apparent result of their conversation as yet had been an
-order for one of the grooms to ride as fast as possible to Barhampton,
-and bring four post-horses to carry the baronet on his way to London.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What can I do? How can I act?&quot; Edgar Adelon asked himself. &quot;I must
-have some one to consult with, and I know not whom. I do not believe
-my father loves Dudley in his heart. I have seen him eye him with an
-expression of dislike; and I will not trust the priest. Good man as he
-is, his policy is always a subtle one. It is a pity that, with those
-Italians, amongst whom he lived so long, he acquired that covert and
-indirect mode of dealing. His purposes and ends are always right, I do
-believe: too right and honest to be sought by crooked means. I must
-talk with Eda; she is candour and truth itself, and yet has wit enough
-to put all Filmer's arts at fault. I will talk with her;&quot; and with his
-usual hasty action, he was going at once to put his purpose in
-execution, when he heard his father come out of the library, go up the
-stairs, and knock at his cousin's door.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur remained long with his niece; and Edgar, who remained in
-the room below for some time, thought he heard his father's voice
-sometimes raised higher than usual. At other times, however, it
-sounded with a low murmur, as if holding a long and earnest argument.
-The young man grew impatient at length, and going forth into the park,
-he wandered about for nearly an hour, and when he returned, found Sir
-Arthur's post-chariot at the door, ready to bear him away.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Your father has been waiting for you, Mr. Adelon,&quot; said the butler;
-&quot;he is in the breakfast-room.&quot; And Edgar immediately directed his
-steps thither, without asking any questions.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, Edgar, did you not know I was going?&quot; demanded the baronet, as
-soon as his son appeared; and then, without waiting for a reply, he
-proceeded: &quot;It is necessary for me, my dear boy, to go up to London at
-once, to break the sad intelligence of Lord Hadley's death to his poor
-mother. In the mean time, I think it will be better for you, more
-decent, more proper, to meddle as little as possible with the affairs
-of a gentleman charged with having produced his death, at least till
-after he has had a fair trial, and is acquitted or found guilty. I
-have some other business of importance to transact in London, but I
-trust to be down in time to be present at the funeral, if it is to be
-performed here. Mr. Filmer will make all the necessary arrangements,
-according to the directions he will receive.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar Adelon was, like most young men, somewhat wrong-headed. His
-disposition was too firm and generous for him to be spoiled, as it is
-usually called; but he had been very much indulged, and usually took
-his own way. He never, indeed, showed the least want of respect
-towards his father, in word or manner; but he generally followed the
-course which suited him best, with less reverence in his actions than
-in his deportment. On the present occasion, then, he made no reply,
-but remained determined to do everything he could for Dudley,
-notwithstanding all opposition. After a few more words from Sir
-Arthur, Edgar accompanied his father to the door of the carriage, took
-leave of him, and then at once mounted the stairs to Eda's room, and
-knocked at the door.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Go into my little sitting-room, Edgar,&quot; said Eda, who knew his step,
-&quot;and I will come to you directly. I wish much to speak to you, my dear
-cousin.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">But Eda kept him some time waiting, and when she came at length, Edgar
-saw that tears had been late visitants in her eyes.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Do not grieve, Eda, dear,&quot; said Edgar, taking her hand kindly. &quot;This
-will all pass away; but let you and I sit down together, and consult
-what can best be done for poor Dudley. He will be acquitted, to a
-certainty, I think: nay, I am sure.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not know, Edgar,&quot; answered Eda; &quot;but in the mean time we must do
-all we can to help and comfort him; and that is why I wished to speak
-with you so much, for I know no one but you who seem to love him
-here.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, yes! there is one other, Eda,&quot; answered Edgar, with a smile; &quot;one
-who loves him very well, I think.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The colour rose in Eda's cheek, but she raised her eyes to his,
-answering at once, &quot;There certainly is, Edgar, and I have just told
-your father so. I avow it, Edgar, the more frankly, because it is
-necessary, if we really would serve him, to have no concealments from
-each other. We have jested and laughed over such things, Edgar; but
-now it is necessary that we should speak plainly, both of your
-situation and mine.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;First, then, tell me what my father said,&quot; answered Edgar. &quot;I promise
-you, Eda, dear, I will have no concealments from you now. You are a
-sweet, kind, affectionate girl as ever lived, and you have neither
-pride nor prejudices which should make me afraid to tell you all my
-own feelings. Let me hear what my father answered when you told him of
-Dudley's love, and what you said to him again.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He said much, Edgar, that was very unpleasant,&quot; replied Eda; &quot;but do
-not let me dwell upon it. He found me firmer than he expected, and he
-is now fully aware of my intentions, and moreover, aware that he can
-never change them: at least I hope so, for what I said should leave no
-doubt. But now to other matters. I think you have a sincere affection
-for Dudley: is it not so?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I would lay down my life for him,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon. &quot;But when I
-said that there was another who loved him well too, I did not
-altogether mean you, Eda, but I meant Mr. Filmer.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda waved her hand and shook her head. &quot;Your religious feelings blind
-you, Edgar,&quot; she said. &quot;Mr. Filmer does not love him: never has loved
-him. There was a peculiar look came into his face the very first
-moment he saw Dudley here, which you did not remark, but which I did,
-and which I have remarked more than once before, when any one whom he
-hates approaches him. It is but for a moment, but it is very distinct;
-and moreover, I have seldom seen any one call up that look who has not
-somehow fallen into misfortune. Do you remember the farmer Hadyer,
-upon your father's estate in Yorkshire, and how, after being in very
-prosperous circumstances, he was soon totally ruined? Well, the first
-time I saw the poor man come up to speak to your father when Mr.
-Filmer was present, that look came into the priest's face.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Nay, it is you are prejudiced, Eda,&quot; replied her cousin. &quot;What
-offence could poor Hadyer have given to Father Peter, and how was he
-instrumental in his ruin?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;His wife had been a Catholic, and became a Protestant the year
-before,&quot; answered Eda. &quot;How his ruin was brought about, I do not know;
-but I heard Mr. Filmer dissuade your father from granting what Hadyer
-asked, and which seemed to me but just and equitable. He said nothing
-in the man's presence; but when he was gone, and he found your father
-was inclined to accede, he urged that if your father granted the
-remission of half a year's rent to one farmer on account of the flood
-which carried away double the value of corn, he would have some such
-accidents happening to some of the tenants every year. But all this is
-irrelevant; Mr. Filmer loves him not: of that I am quite sure. We must
-seek other counsel, Edgar, and find means to prove Dudley's innocence.
-There is one, I think, who can supply it, if she will, and you must go
-to her and seek it; for, if I am not mistaken,&quot; and Eda smiled as she
-fixed her eyes upon him, &quot;your voice will be more powerful with her
-than that of any other human being.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You mean dear Helen Clive,&quot; replied Edgar. &quot;Eda, you have made your
-confession; and mine is soon made. Helen Clive shall be my wife,
-whatever obstacles may stand in the way. She, too, would, if she
-could, I am sure, show sufficient justification for what Dudley did.
-It was an act of righteous vengeance upon as base a man as ever
-breathed.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What do you mean, Edgar?&quot; exclaimed Eda Brandon, gazing at him as he
-spoke, with a flushed cheek and flashing eye. &quot;You do not really
-believe that Dudley did kill this unhappy young man?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do, Eda,&quot; answered her cousin; &quot;but listen to me.&quot; And he proceeded
-to tell her all he knew--and it was but a part--of Lord Hadley's
-conduct to Helen Clive. He spoke, too, of how he had himself, on the
-preceding morning, informed Dudley of the facts, acknowledged his own
-love for Helen, and asked the advice of his friend as to the course he
-ought to pursue.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He soothed, comforted, calmed me, Eda,&quot; continued the young man: &quot;and
-in the end, told me to leave the affair in his hands, and he would
-take care that my own dear, gentle Helen should be insulted no more.
-From the evidence given by the servants, it is clear that Dudley and
-the other had a bitter quarrel upon this very theme; that the
-wrongdoer was insolent in his wrong, and provoked his monitor more
-than patience could endure. Dudley is by nature fiery and impetuous,
-Eda, and depend upon it, they met last night; this base peer provoked
-his nobler friend, and Dudley struck a blow which, though
-unintentionally, punished him as he deserved.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda mused sadly for a moment; but she then replied, &quot;No, Edgar, no!
-Your father told me that Dudley solemnly denied the act. Were it as
-you say, he would not have done so. Impetuous he may be; but most
-decided in right and truth he is, and always has been. He would have
-told the tale of what had happened as it did happen; the act and the
-motive would have stood forth clear together, and he would have left
-the rest to fate. But besides, I know he did not do it. He went out at
-my request, on business, which nothing, I am sure, would have turned
-him from. The dinner was somewhat late, the hour named fast
-approaching, and I could see his anxiety to go. He would not, I know,
-have gone ten steps out of his way at that moment on any account
-whatever. No, Edgar, he did not do it; and Helen, perhaps, may help us
-to the proofs, for she must know who the men were that Dudley was to
-meet near Mead's farm. There were others about, too, I am sure, and by
-their testimony we may perhaps show, step by step, every yard of the
-way that Dudley took. Go to her, Edgar--go to her at once. Why do you
-shake your head?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Because, dear Eda, Helen is no longer within reach,&quot; replied Edgar
-Adelon; &quot;she embarked last night with her father, who was implicated
-in this mad rising and attempt upon Barhampton.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda sat speechless with surprise and consternation, Her hope of
-proving Dudley's innocence had been based entirely upon the
-information which could be given by Helen Clive; and now to find that
-she was gone, and evidently to a distance, too, seemed to strike her
-with despair. From her uncle, and from the servants, she had gleaned a
-very accurate idea of all the evidence which had been given before the
-coroner's jury; and she had seen, from the first, the difficulties of
-her lover's situation, with far more alarm than he himself had felt;
-but her mind was quick and intelligent, and turned, after a temporary
-pause of consternation, to consider what was best next to be done.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Fear not, Eda, dear,&quot; continued Edgar, seeing the expression of alarm
-upon her face; &quot;I must soon hear where Helen is. She has promised to
-write to me whenever she arrives in France, and to let me know where
-she is to be found. At all events, the priest must know.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Stay, stay, Edgar!&quot; said Eda. &quot;Helen's evidence would be too late. My
-uncle tells me the assizes will be held in ten days, and you must
-trust Mr. Filmer in nothing, Edgar. You think I am prejudiced, but it
-is not so. I know him, my dear cousin. But there is another way. If we
-could but find a person named Norries, he might assist us.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, that was the very leader of these men,&quot; said Edgar, somewhat
-sharply. &quot;I heard him myself harangue them two nights ago on the
-little green before the old priory, and he used my father's name in a
-false and shameless manner.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Alas! in too true a manner, Edgar,&quot; answered Eda. &quot;I must tell you
-all now, Edgar, for Dudley must not be sacrificed. His object in going
-out that night, was to save my uncle from participating in acts that
-may bring ruin on his head. Whether he succeeded in persuading him to
-desist or not, I do not know, for I did not dare to ask your father;
-but be assured, Edgar, that up to eight o'clock last night, it was Sir
-Arthur's intention to be present with, if not to lead, the people who
-attacked Barhampton. It was I who urged Dudley to go.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But what could he do?&quot; demanded Edgar. &quot;You know my father in such
-circumstances attends to no advice.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;True,&quot; answered Eda; &quot;but Dudley had a power over him, Edgar.&quot; And
-she proceeded to explain all that she herself knew of the dark
-transactions in which Sir Arthur Adelon had been engaged in former
-years. She put it gently and kindly, not as an accusation, but as an
-unfortunate fact; and she told how generously Dudley had promised at
-once, when he heard the means Norries had employed to urge her uncle
-forward on so fatal a course, that he would assure Sir Arthur, on his
-word of honour, to destroy the papers spoken of, without even looking
-at them.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar's check at first flushed, and then turned pale, and in the end,
-he covered his eyes with his hands, and remained buried in thought.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Helen told me,&quot; continued Eda, willing to lead his mind away from the
-more painful part of the subject, &quot;that whoever I sent to seek my
-uncle would find some men waiting near the place called Mead's farm.
-There were watches, she told, along the whole line of road, and some
-of them surely saw Dudley pass. At all events, Norries can give
-information, if any one; and the only difficulty will be to find him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will find him,&quot; cried Edgar Adelon, starting up; &quot;but then,&quot; he
-added, &quot;perhaps he may have left the country too. I will seek him,
-however, let him be where he will, and find him if it be in human
-power to do so, for Dudley shall not suffer for his noble and generous
-devotion.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But let us consider, Edgar, how Norries can best be heard of,&quot; said
-Eda; but Edgar waved his hand with that bright, happy thing, the smile
-of youthful confidence, upon his face, and answered, &quot;I will find him,
-dear girl, I will find him. I know several of the men who were with
-him. I recognised their faces at the priory; but I will about it at
-once, for there is no time to be lost.&quot;</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXIII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">It was a dark and stormy night when Edgar Adelon, mounted upon a
-powerful horse, which seemed wearied with long travel, rode along
-towards a little village near the sea-coast, about twelve miles from
-Brandon. The rain beat hard upon him, dashing in his fair face, and
-almost blinding man and steed; the wind tossed about the curls of his
-hair like streamers round his head; neither great coat nor cloak
-sheltered his delicate form from the blast or the down-pouring deluge;
-but still he spurred on, seeming heedless of the tempest that raged
-around. He entered the street of the village; he passed the little
-alehouse, where there were lights and laughing voices within; and he
-drew not a rein till he reached the last cottage but one upon the
-right hand side, before which he checked his horse suddenly, and
-sprang to the ground. Fastening the bridle round the paling, he went
-forward and knocked at the door, and then immediately lifted the latch
-and went in, saying, &quot;Martin Oldkirk lives here, I believe?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A short, square-built, vigorous-looking man rose from the fire-side,
-and eyed him with a suspicious look as he entered. He had been reading
-a sort of newspaper, small in size and apparently badly printed, by
-the light of a single tallow candle; but he instantly put the paper
-away, and shaded his eyes to examine the visitor.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; he said, at length, &quot;my name is Martin Oldkirk. What do you
-want with me?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I want to speak a few words with you,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon, closing
-the door behind him, and advancing to the table. &quot;You know a gentleman
-of the name of Norries, I believe?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man hesitated, and then replied, &quot;I have seen such a person, I've
-a notion. He called here once, but that's all.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You know me, however, I suppose?&quot; answered Edgar Adelon.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I think I have seen you before somewhere,&quot; replied Oldkirk, with
-an indifferent air. &quot;You are the baronet's son over at Brandon, I
-fancy.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Exactly so,&quot; replied the young gentleman; &quot;and Harry Graves, who
-works for Mr. Mead, told me that you could give me some information.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What about?&quot; demanded the man, abruptly.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;About this very Mr. Norries,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon, fixing his eyes
-upon him. &quot;I have been eight days hunting him, and find, at last, that
-you are the only man who knows where he is.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That's a lie, at least!&quot; answered the man, in an insolent and
-swaggering tone; &quot;and you may tell Harry Graves so for me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar smothered his indignation at his companion's brutality, and
-replied, &quot;At all events you know where he is to be found, and you must
-tell me where he is, for I must speak to him immediately upon business
-of importance.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You won't hear from me,&quot; answered the man; &quot;for mayhap I do not know
-where he is. If you want him you must find him for yourself.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; said Edgar, sternly. &quot;You must find him for me, or if you don't
-you must take the consequences.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And what may they be?&quot; asked the labourer, with no less insolence in
-his manner, but with a contemptuous smile curling his lip at the same
-time.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, simply, that I shall give you up to justice,&quot; answered Edgar
-Adelon, &quot;as one of the rioters who treasonably attacked the town of
-Barhampton.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You would find that difficult to prove,&quot; answered the man, &quot;because I
-was not there.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not so difficult as you imagine,&quot; answered the young gentleman. &quot;I
-have the written testimony of three witnesses to show that you were
-present; and if you do not do what I require, depend upon it I will
-use those means to convict you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man had taken two steps round the table, and he now sprang at once
-between Edgar and the door, exclaiming, &quot;Then d--mn me if I don't
-knock your brains out for your pains. I'm not to be bullied in that
-way.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As he spoke, he was advancing upon the young gentleman; but when he
-was within not much more than two yards, Edgar suddenly drew a pistol
-from between his waistcoat and his shirt, where he had put it to keep
-it dry, and presented it at Oldkirk, cocking it at the same time with
-a loud click.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I came prepared for all that,&quot; he said, with a bitter smile. &quot;They
-told me you were a desperate fellow, and that they were all afraid to
-come near you. Take another step and you are a dead man.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Martin Oldkirk paused and gazed at him with a look in which a certain
-portion of admiration was joined with surprise. &quot;Upon my life,&quot; he
-said, at length, &quot;you're a brave little devil! but this is hardly
-fair, sir. Now, let us sit down and talk over the matter. I see what
-stuff you're made of, and I don't think you'd do what's wrong, or wish
-me to do so either.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, keep your distance, then,&quot; said Edgar Adelon. &quot;You are a
-stronger man than I am, and the pistol only puts us on a level. As to
-wishing you to do what's wrong, I have no such desires nor intention.
-I wish you to do what is right, and that I will show you in a minute.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Oldkirk retreated to his former situation, and waited without reply
-for Edgar Adelon to go on. &quot;You have heard me request you,&quot; said the
-young gentleman, seating himself opposite to him, &quot;to tell, show, or
-lead me to the place where Mr. Norries lies concealed. Now, I have not
-the slightest intention whatsoever of injuring that gentleman in any
-way. No consideration would induce me to betray him; and I give you my
-word of honour that his secret shall be as safe with me as it is with
-you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, upon second thoughts,&quot; replied the peasant, &quot;I should guess it
-would, seeing that that which hurts him might hurt your own father,
-Mr. Adelon; and mayhap it's about your father's affairs that you are
-going to speak with him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar shut his lips tight; and after a moment's pause replied, &quot;I know
-nothing of my father's affairs, Mr. Oldkirk, and I will not deceive
-you about it. My business with Mr. Norries has no connexion with my
-father whatsoever. I desire to speak with him in regard to matters
-which I am sure he takes some interest in. A gentleman, a very dear
-and intimate friend of my own, has been apprehended and committed for
-trial, charged with an act which he did not commit, and in regard to
-which, I think, Mr. Norries may furnish some information which may be
-useful to my friend's defence.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That he won't,&quot; replied Oldkirk, abruptly. &quot;He'll inform against no
-one, I'll answer for it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You mistake and interrupt me,&quot; said Edgar Adelon, with a slight
-degree of haughtiness in his manner. &quot;I neither expect nor desire that
-he should turn informer; but I think he may be able to give me the
-names of several persons who saw my friend on the night in question,
-and who can bear testimony to where he was at certain times, so as to
-prove that it was impossible he could commit the crime with which he
-is charged.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That's another affair,&quot; said Martin Oldkirk; &quot;and if you assure me,
-sir, upon your word of honour, that you have no other object than
-this, I don't mind lending a hand; but at the same time you see, Mr.
-Adelon, when a thing is trusted to me by any persons I mustn't tell
-other people anything about it till I have asked leave.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is fair enough,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon; &quot;I pledge you my word of
-honour that I have no other object whatever in seeking Mr. Norries
-than that which I have stated; and I have no objection to tell you the
-circumstances of the case, in order that you may communicate them to
-Mr. Norries himself before he sees me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! that's not needful, sir,&quot; replied the man. &quot;I guess well enough
-what it is all about: this gentleman that is accused of killing the
-young lord up at Brandon, who was buried t'other day. I don't think
-you need trouble your head much about it, for every one knows well
-enough he didn't do it, and they'll never get a jury to condemn him;
-but for the matter of that, I don't blame a gentleman who wants to
-help a friend, and an innocent man too, at a pinch like that. But
-you'll have a long way to go, sir, though it's all in your way home
-too.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not mind how far it may be,&quot; answered Edgar, &quot;nor whether it be
-in my way or not. Mr. Norries I will see, and this very night, too, if
-it be possible. I am quite ready to go, if you are willing.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, that's right,&quot; replied Oldkirk. &quot;I like a man that's ready to
-do anything to serve a friend. So come along, we'll set to work at
-once; but you'll have to stay behind, maybe for ten minutes or so,
-while I ask leave. If I get it, well enough; if I don't get it, I
-suppose you and I are to have a tussle.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I'll think of that as we go along,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon; &quot;but, at
-all events, we'll have a truce till you come back again from your
-mission, and fair play on both parts, my good friend.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Agreed,&quot; said Oldkirk. And putting up his pistol in his breast again,
-the young gentleman followed him quietly out of the house, and taking
-his horse's bridle over his arm, walked on by the man's side in
-perfect confidence.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">This conduct seemed to please him not a little, for he was much more
-conversible and open than he had been at first; but he still kept a
-guard upon his communications, taking care not to say a word which
-could lead his companion even to suspect where Norries lay concealed.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The way was long, and the drenching rain poured upon the two
-wayfarers, as amongst the narrow lanes and between the high hedgerows
-which distinguished the inland parts of that country, they wandered on
-for more than an hour. They passed one village, a hamlet, and some
-scattered houses; but Edgar, in his wanderings, had made himself
-acquainted with every rood of the country round Brandon, and he
-perceived that each step he took brought him nearer home. At length,
-Martin Oldkirk stopped by the side of a little church at the distance
-of about five miles from the park, and said, &quot;Now you must wait here
-for me, master, till I can get leave to bring you on. But you are very
-wet, and that's a bad thing for a genteel lad like you. If you like
-it, I can get you a glass of spirits from that farm-house there, where
-you see the light glimmering.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It would, perhaps, be better for me to go in there and wait for you,&quot;
-replied Edgar; &quot;for although I care little about bad weather, having
-been accustomed to brave it all my life, yet the rain dashing heavily
-in one's face is not pleasant.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That will not do, sir,&quot; replied the man; &quot;they might track us, if
-they saw you and me together.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then, I will put my horse under the yew tree and go into the
-church porch,&quot; said the young gentleman; &quot;spirits I do not drink, and
-shall do well enough without them.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There are worse things on a wet night,&quot; answered the other; and
-turning away, he left Edgar to follow his own course.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The church porch alluded to was a deep, old Norman projection from the
-face of a building, the greater part of which was of more modern date;
-for successive church-wardens had each done his best to spoil, by
-additions and improvements, what had once been a small but very
-beautiful piece of architecture. There, however, under the round and
-richly moulded arches, Edgar Adelon found a temporary shelter, while
-an old yew tree, planted probably by Saxon hands, protected his horse
-from the fury of the storm. Time seemed to pass very slowly to his
-impatient spirit, and as the porch approached close to the road, he
-listened, though for some time in vain, for a coming step. At length
-one sounded at a distance, and in a minute or two more his guide was
-at his side.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well,&quot; cried Edgar, eagerly, &quot;what news?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It won't do, sir, tonight,&quot; replied the man. &quot;I was directed to tell
-you that you must not come on now, but that if you will be there
-to-morrow evening at nine, you will not only see him you want, but get
-all the information that he can give.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is very unfortunate,&quot; answered Edgar; &quot;the assizes open the day
-after to-morrow; this trial will be one of the first, in all
-probability, and we shall have no time to prepare. But I will be
-wherever you will name, of course; or will you come and guide me?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will be there waiting for you,&quot; said the other; &quot;but you must swear
-not to say one word to any person which can lead people to find out
-where the gentleman is, on any account whatever.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Most willingly,&quot; replied Edgar Adelon; &quot;under no circumstances
-whatever, by word, or look, or sign, will I betray the place of his
-concealment, upon my honour.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That will do,&quot; rejoined Oldkirk. &quot;And now, to tell you where to come.
-I dare say you know the country pretty well?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! yes,&quot; answered the young gentleman; &quot;there are few parts within
-twenty miles round where I could not find my way.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then, do you know the old workhouse at Langley?&quot; asked the
-countryman. &quot;It stands just at the back of the village.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Perfectly,&quot; replied Edgar. &quot;Am I to be there?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You will find me near the door at nine to-morrow,&quot; said Oldkirk. &quot;And
-now, master, can you find your road home?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;As easily as if it were broad day,&quot; answered his companion. &quot;And now,
-Oldkirk, let me say, I am sorry I used a threat towards you; but you
-must forgive it; for when one is so deeply interested as I am in
-proving the innocence of a friend, one often says things one would not
-say at another time.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There, don't say any more about it,&quot; replied the other. &quot;May be some
-day you may lend me a hand, and that will clear all scores; so good
-night, sir!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar bade him farewell, mounted his horse, and spurred on towards
-Brandon, seeing not a living creature till he came within a hundred
-yards of the park gates. His heart was lightened, and his spirits,
-which had been greatly depressed, rose high at the thoughts of
-serving, nay, perhaps of saving, one for whom, from the first, he had
-in his young enthusiasm conceived the warmest friendship. The wind had
-somewhat abated, but the rain still continued when he approached the
-park, and the night was so dark that his horse was nearly upon a
-foot-passenger before he saw him. The person whom he overtook was
-walking slowly on, with an umbrella covering his head and shoulders;
-but the sound of the falling hoofs startled him, and made him jump
-aside just as Edgar checked his horse.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Is that you, Edgar?&quot; said Mr. Filmer, turning round; and Edgar
-immediately sprang to the ground, apologizing for having nearly ridden
-over him. &quot;The truth is, father,&quot; he said, &quot;I was riding fast to catch
-dear Eda before she goes to bed, and to tell her the tidings which
-have made me very joyful.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Let me share them,&quot; said Father Filmer; &quot;for if I judge rightly they
-will be joyful to me too.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am sure they will,&quot; cried Edgar, forgetting, in the
-light-heartedness of the moment, the caution which Eda had given. &quot;By
-this time to-morrow, I trust to be able to prove Dudley's innocence
-beyond a doubt.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is indeed most satisfactory,&quot; answered the priest. &quot;But are you
-quite sure, my young friend? Youth is apt to be sanguine; too
-sanguine, alas! not to meet with disappointment.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I trust such will not be the case now,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon; &quot;for
-at nine to-morrow I am to meet one who can give me information if he
-will.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Mr. Filmer was well aware that his hold upon the mind of the young
-gentleman who was now walking on beside him was much less strong than
-that which he possessed over Daniel Connor, Sir Arthur Adelon, or even
-Mr. Clive. He knew that to attempt to force his secrets from him, by
-representing a full communication thereof to the priest in the light
-of a religious duty, would be at once treated by Edgar as a ridiculous
-assumption, and that he must therefore take a very different course
-with him from that which he had pursued with others; as, indeed, he
-had done in addressing every one of the persons I have named above. To
-no two of them had he put forth exactly the same motives in exercising
-the influence which he possessed over them. The general line he took
-was still the same, indeed, though he modified his arguments to each
-individual; but now he was obliged, in a degree, to choose a new
-direction.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I seek no confidence, my son,&quot; he said, &quot;but that which is voluntary.
-You have been a little reserved lately, but that matters not; though,
-perhaps, I might have aided you more than you know. When I ask you,
-therefore, who is the person you have to meet, and where you are to
-meet him, I do not want you to tell me anything you may be disposed to
-conceal, and have only in view your own safety; for you must remember,
-Edgar, that these are somewhat dangerous times; and if I am not much
-mistaken, the people you have to deal with are rash and violent men,
-who will not scruple at anything which may serve their purpose.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There is not the slightest danger,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon. &quot;I know
-who and what they are quite well; and they know that I would not
-betray them for any consideration whatever. That which prevents me
-from telling you whom I am going to meet and where, is that which has
-hitherto prevented me from speaking with you as openly as I could
-wish: namely, that the affairs with which I have to do are not my own,
-and that other persons are compromised throughout the whole matter. I
-could not, therefore, in honour reveal to you any of the particulars;
-and in this case especially, I am bound, by a most solemn promise, to
-discover nothing to any one.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is very well,&quot; replied the priest. &quot;I have no curiosity; and I
-shall be perfectly satisfied if you can prove that our young friend is
-totally innocent. At nine tomorrow, did you say? Well, may you be
-successful; for I myself am quite sure of Mr. Dudley's innocence, and
-therefore trust it may be clearly established. You had better,
-therefore, mount again, and get home to your fair cousin as soon as
-possible, for I know she is very anxious, unnecessarily so, I believe;
-but we must always make allowances.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Thus saying, he seemed to drop the subject; and after walking a few
-steps farther with him, Edgar Adelon sprang into the saddle, and rode
-on towards Brandon Park.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXIV.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">By half-past eight o'clock Edgar Adelon was at the door of the old
-workhouse at Langley. The building had long been disused, but though
-not in the best order in the world, it could not be said to have
-fallen into decay. When a harsh and parsimonious law was substituted
-for one which was excellent in itself, but had been long and sadly
-misused; when poverty was first virtually pronounced criminal, and
-punished by statute; when the vices of the past, and the follies of
-rich magistrates, were visited upon the present generation, and upon
-the heads of the poor; when those whom God had joined together were
-put asunder by legislation, and when a deputy parliament,
-irresponsible directly to the people, was created to make laws and
-regulations for those who are denied a voice in the senate, or a vote
-at an election; when the medical attendance of the sick and the needy
-was first contracted for by scores, as bullocks and sheep are paid for
-at a toll-gate; when charity put on a pedant's gown, and national
-benevolence was circumscribed by iron theories, the poor of Langley
-had been transferred to the union house, and the old workhouse had
-been put up to auction.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It was bought by a person who wished to establish a school: a wild,
-eccentric, clever philanthropist, who fancied that he could bend man's
-stubborn nature to his own Utopian schemes of excellence. The school,
-however, as might have been expected, proved a complete failure; and
-after keeping it up for two years, he abandoned it in despair. No
-purchaser could be found to take the building off his hands; and
-leaving the charge of it to an old man and his wife, he spent a few
-pounds annually in checking the course of decay, but seemed to forget
-it altogether, except when he paid the bills. There was a little space
-of ground round it, and a low wall; and within that wall Edgar Adelon
-now stood, waiting for the coming of his guide. He doubted not that
-the person he sought was to be discovered within the large, rambling
-old building: and finding that his impatient spirit had carried him
-thither a good deal before the time, he walked round it more than
-once, looking up to the windows, to see if he could discover the room
-which Norries inhabited. All was dark, however, except where, from a
-room on the ground floor, close to the door, streamed forth a solitary
-light; and mounting the steps, the young gentleman looked in, and
-perceived the old man in charge and his wife seated at their little
-fire. He now began to doubt that Norries was there. It might merely be
-a place of rendezvous, he thought; and as time wore on, he fancied
-that his guide was long in coming, and then that he would not come.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The night formed a strong contrast with the last: it was fine, and
-calm, and clear, and at length a step was heard at a good distance,
-approaching rapidly. Edgar would not wait for the new-comer's
-approach, but went to meet him, and in a few minutes he could perceive
-the figure of Martin Oldkirk.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay, sir, you are too soon,&quot; said the man. &quot;I am before my time; but
-come on, and we shall soon find him we want. Now, wait here for me a
-minute,&quot; he continued, when they reached the door of the workhouse;
-and walking round towards the back, he disappeared. After remaining
-impatiently for about five minutes, Edgar thought he heard a bolt
-withdrawn, and expected to gain admission; but the sound ceased again,
-and in an instant or two afterwards, he heard a step once more. The
-next moment the voice of Oldkirk called him; and he found the
-countryman standing at the western angle of the building.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Stop a minute, Mr. Adelon,&quot; said the man; &quot;are you very sure that you
-have not let out the secret to any one?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;To no one upon earth,&quot; answered Edgar. &quot;You surely do not suspect me
-of such baseness?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir, I don't suspect you of baseness, at all,&quot; replied Oldkirk;
-&quot;but young gentlemen will be imprudent sometimes.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have not in this instance, at all events,&quot; answered Edgar. &quot;I have
-not said a word to anybody which could give the slightest idea of
-whither I was going when I came out.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is strange enough,&quot; answered the other, in a thoughtful tone.
-&quot;There are two men and a little boy standing talking together at this
-hour of night, at the corner of the lane. They seem to be doing
-nothing. I wonder what they can want?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing connected with me, depend upon it,&quot; answered Edgar, becoming
-somewhat impatient. &quot;It seems to me nothing unusual that two men
-should be standing there talking.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But the boy comes from a place close by Brandon,&quot; replied Oldkirk. &quot;I
-dare say it is all right, however, so we had better go in;&quot; and
-proceeding to the door, near which Edgar had been waiting, he opened
-it, first lifting the latch. The first room they came to was a little
-stone hall, where paupers had often waited for their daily allowance
-of bread, or meat, or soup, or for medical aid; and there Edgar Adelon
-paused, while Oldkirk shut and bolted the door.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Now we must find our way in the dark,&quot; said the latter, as soon as he
-had completed his task. &quot;It won't do to carry a light about here. Keep
-close behind me, sir.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Following his footsteps, Edgar went forward through a door, which
-closed behind them with a weight and pulley, and then along a stone
-passage, at the end of which the man said, &quot;Here are the stairs;&quot; and
-mounting about twenty steps, they came to the upper story of the
-building. It seemed, as far as the young gentleman could judge, a
-strange, rambling sort of place, with rooms on the right hand and on
-the left, and paved passages between them, through several of which he
-was led, till at length, stopping suddenly, Oldkirk said, &quot;I will wait
-for you here. Go straight on, sir, till you see a light shining
-through the keyhole of a door; just push that open and go in, but
-don't be longer than you can help.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar followed his directions without reply; and a moment after, in a
-turn of the passage to the left, saw the light the man had spoken of,
-not only shining through the keyhole, but through a chink of the door,
-which was ajar. Pushing it open, as he had been told to do, he took a
-step forward, and a scene unpleasant and even painful was before him.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The room was a small square chamber, lined with squalid panelling, and
-floored, like the rest of the building, with stone. The rain of the
-preceding night had come through the roof at one corner, staining the
-ceiling and the walls. There was but one window, covered not only with
-a large moveable shutter, formed of planks of wood, but with a
-blanket, pinned up with two forks, so as to prevent the slightest ray
-of light from finding its way out through the crevices. The air felt
-hot and close, although there was neither fire nor fire-place, and the
-night was cold. In one corner was a bed, of the most humble
-description, without curtains, and by its side stood a chair and a
-table, the latter supporting several phials partly filled with
-medicine, and a tea-cup, as well as a solitary tallow candle, with a
-long, unsnuffed wick, set in a large, dirty, tin candlestick. The
-bedding seemed to consist of a mattress or palliass, part of which was
-apparent, two or three coarse rugs and a sheet, with an ill-filled
-bolster, doubled up to support the head.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As soon as Edgar entered the room, the form of a man raised itself
-slowly and painfully up in the bed, supporting itself on the right
-arm, and a pair of hollow eyes gazed at him earnestly. The head was
-surrounded with a bandage, and the wild gray hair floated loose about
-it; while beneath appeared a countenance full of intelligence, but
-worn and haggard, apparently with sickness and suffering. The hue of
-robust health was totally gone; and the pale, yellow, waxy tint of the
-skin seemed more sallow from a black plaster down one check, and a
-gray and reddish beard of eight or nine days' growth. No one,
-probably, who had known Norries in health, would have recognised him
-at that moment; and Edgar Adelon who had never seen him, except once
-as a boy, imagined at first that there must be some mistake.
-Association, as it is called, is perhaps one of the most extraordinary
-phenomena of the human mind: not alone in the rapid power which it has
-of awakening recollection from the slumber of long years to the things
-of the past, but in the strange difference of the means by which it is
-itself excited. With one man it is a sight; with another, a sound;
-with another, an odour; with another, a taste, which calls up suddenly
-scenes and circumstances and persons, which have been long buried
-beneath the sand and rubbish of passing things in the course of years.
-With Edgar Adelon the exciting cause, in almost all instances, was
-sound; and the moment Mr. Norries spoke, he recollected his voice, and
-the place where he had last beheld him; and all that then took place
-flashed back upon his memory like a scene in a dream.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Are you Mr. Adelon?&quot; demanded the wounded man.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The same,&quot; answered Edgar.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What! not the boy who came to call upon Mr. Sherborne, with Sir
-Arthur Adelon, some six or seven years ago?&quot; rejoined Norries. &quot;How
-you are changed!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Greatly, I believe,&quot; replied Edgar; &quot;but you are very much changed
-too, Mr. Norries, and I regret to see that the alteration has been
-effected by illness.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay!&quot; answered the other, gloomily, &quot;they have brought the strong man
-to infant weakness, and the daring man to skulk in a hole like this.
-If others had been as resolute and as vigorous, the case would have
-been different. But I have not regrets for myself, Mr. Adelon. I
-regret that another opportunity has been lost for my country: an
-opportunity which may never return. I regret that my countrymen, in
-their feebleness and their timidity, have suffered the golden moment
-to slip from them, after boasting that they were ready to seize it,
-and to dare all odds to render it available to the common good. They
-fled, sir, like a flock of sheep, from a handful of men in red coats,
-and I am almost hopeless of them. I went down, it is true, almost at
-the first, with a bitter wound in my side, and my horse shot under me;
-but if they had then rushed on--ay, though they had trampled the soul
-out of my body--they would have gained the day, and I would have
-blessed them. Nevertheless, the time may yet come, and I will live for
-it. Only one success, to give them confidence in themselves, to knit
-them together, to prove to them that they can fight and conquer if
-they will, and all is secure. It is the novelty of the thing that
-scares them: and those Frenchmen, too, who ran at the very first shot,
-what do they deserve? But I forget; we are rambling from the point.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You seem to have been badly wounded, indeed,&quot; replied Edgar, as the
-sick man sunk back upon his pillow, exhausted with the stern vehemence
-of his own thoughts; &quot;but tell me, Mr. Norries, have you proper
-attendance here? Such wounds as yours would need a skilful surgeon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They were sharp ones,&quot; answered Norries, &quot;and not few; for I had just
-staggered up, and was calling some few stout hearts around me, when
-the cavalry dashed in amongst us. One cut at me, and gashed my cheek,
-and another brought me down with a blow over the head. They passed on,
-thinking me dead; and so I should have been very soon if that brave
-fellow, Oldkirk, had not dragged me away, and hiding me and himself in
-a dry ditch, bound up my wounds and stanched the blood. There has been
-many a man ennobled for a worse deed; but he will have his reward here
-or hereafter. The people here are very kind to me, too. I saved their
-little property for them one time, by the few scraps of law I ever
-learned, and they are grateful: it is a marvel, as this world goes. I
-have a surgeon from a distant town, and I drink his drugs, and let him
-probe my wounds, and let him torture me as much as he will; not that I
-have any faith in him, but because it pleases the good people, who
-think that something is being done to serve me. I need no surgeon, Mr.
-Adelon, but nature and a strong constitution. Surgeons and lawyers,
-the craft is much the same; the one tortures and destroys the body,
-the other the mind--both rascally trades enough! But let us think of
-other things. You have been seeking me--why?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I thought Oldkirk had told you,&quot; replied Edgar. &quot;I gave him all the
-needful particulars last night.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He told me something of it,&quot; answered Norries, &quot;but not the whole.
-Besides, I forget. Lying here in this gloomy sickness, my thoughts
-wander over many things, like the dove of the deluge, finding no place
-to rest upon. Let me hear the business from your own lips.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is very simple,&quot; replied Edgar Adelon. &quot;A friend, for whom I have
-more deep regard than I feel for any man living, is accused of having
-killed the young Lord Hadley on the very night of the attack upon
-Barhampton. He went out from Brandon at about eight o'clock, and was
-followed by that lord: they were seen passing the lodge, and walking
-on together in high dispute. Lord Hadley was brought home dead, having
-been struck over the cliff by some one, whom the coroner's jury choose
-to believe was my friend: not without some grounds, it is true.&quot; And
-Edgar proceeded to detail the evidence given, dwelling minutely upon
-the circumstances, in order to show Norries the danger of the position
-in which Dudley was placed. &quot;My friend,&quot; he continued, &quot;declares that
-he went on to the very gates of Barhampton that night; that Lord
-Hadley parted from him at the spot where the path from the Grange
-crosses the high road, and that he never saw him after. He met several
-men near Mead's farm, it would seem; but we have reason to believe
-that there were others scattered along the whole line of road he took,
-and that some of them must have seen his parting from Lord Hadley, and
-be able to bear testimony to the fact. If you know, as we imagine, who
-these men were, and can give me information, so that their evidence
-may be obtained, I beseech you, Mr. Norries, to do so; for the lawyers
-who have been brought from London assure us that is the only hope of
-obtaining a favourable verdict for my friend Mr. Dudley.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Dudley, the friend of one of the name of Adelon!&quot; replied
-Norries, in a low, marvelling tone; &quot;that is a strange phenomenon! An
-Adelon strive to save a Dudley! That is stranger still. But true, your
-mother's was kindlier blood. Is your father aware of what you are
-doing?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;My father is in London, detained by business of importance,&quot; answered
-Edgar; &quot;but I know to what you allude, Mr. Norries. Some quarrel
-existed in former years between my father and Dudley's, but that is no
-reason for enmity between their children.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;A quarrel!&quot; exclaimed Norries, raising himself again upon his arm.
-&quot;Do you know, Mr. Adelon, that your father ruined his? Do you
-know--but no, you do not; I will tell you. Dudley's mother was your
-father's first love. They had been rivals for honours at school, at
-the university, and they then became rivals for her hand. Sir Arthur
-was encouraged by the mother, but Charles Dudley was accepted by the
-daughter. He was successful here, as he had always been before, and
-your father is not a man to forget such things, sir. He ruined him, I
-say.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is false!&quot; exclaimed Edgar. &quot;It cannot be true.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not true!&quot; cried Norries; &quot;do you dare tell me it is not true? But
-this is all vain--lying here, the veriest child might insult me at
-will. But I tell you it is true, and I have the papers which prove it.
-He waited long for his revenge, but it came at last. He took advantage
-of a temporary pressure on his enemy--a pressure caused by his own
-acts, and offered in kindly words to lend money on a mortgage, merely
-and solely for the purpose of getting Dudley's title-deeds into his
-lawyer's possession; for that cunning lawyer had taught him that there
-never was a title in which a flaw could not be found. It was all done
-by his directions--all done for one object. The flaw was soon
-discovered, the title disallowed, the secret told to the next heir,
-and Mr. Dudley ruined. I can prove it step by step, the whole
-machinations from the beginning to the end, for that lawyer was my
-partner, and the papers are now in my possession.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And you used them, Mr. Norries,&quot; replied Edgar, with a mixture of
-anger and sorrow in his tone, &quot;to force my father on in a course which
-might be his ruin. Do not talk of ungenerous conduct, for surely this
-was not generous.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I used them, sir,&quot; replied Norries, sternly, &quot;to keep him to
-principles which he had long before asserted, to promote the
-deliverance of my country, to favour the people's right. I have since
-regretted, perhaps, that I did so; for I am weak, like other men, and
-the result having been unfortunate, may wish I had not employed the
-means which the object justified. I ought to have given those letters
-to Mr. Dudley, and will do so now, if he and I both live. And now,
-sir, with that knowledge before you, I will help you to save the young
-man, if you please.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar sat silent for a moment or two, with his eyes bent fixedly upon
-the wall, and Norries at last asked, &quot;What say you? would you save
-him?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Assuredly!&quot; replied Edgar Adelon, with a start; &quot;can you doubt it?
-Whatever be the consequences, can you suppose that I would hesitate to
-deliver my friend, or that I would see an innocent man suffer for a
-crime in which he had no share?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then you are one of the noble and the true,&quot; replied Norries, warmly;
-&quot;one of the few, the very, very few. Give me your hand, Mr. Adelon;
-and forgive me that I have pained you by such sorrowful truths.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar gave him his hand, but turned away his head with a sigh, and
-Norries continued. &quot;That every word I have uttered is true, you shall
-have proof,&quot; he said. &quot;If I live, I will show you those letters.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No!&quot; answered Edgar, sharply; &quot;I will not look into one page of them.
-He is my father, sir, whatever he may have done. To me he has no
-faults, nor would I willingly see any in his conduct to other men. If
-you will aid me to prove Dudley's innocence, Mr. Norries, I will thank
-you most deeply; but say no more to me of my father or my father's
-acts.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;So be it,&quot; answered Norries; &quot;to Mr. Dudley's business, then. First,
-be sure he did not kill Lord Hadley. I may know, or at least guess,
-who did. But of that I can prove nothing. Secondly, there was but one
-man, as far as I recollect, near the spot where the two roads cross.
-My memory of that night is somewhat indistinct, indeed, and there may
-have been two. One certainly was Edward Lane, the blacksmith; the
-other, a man named Herries, living near Barhampton, but I am not sure
-of his station. Seek out Lane first, and tell him I sent you to him
-with my request that he will voluntarily tender his evidence. He must
-make some excuse for being there at that hour of the night. He is
-resolute and bold, but somewhat wrong-headed, and you may have trouble
-with him, though I think my name will satisfy him. The other man will
-tell you at once if he was there or not, if you but say that I desire
-it. Tell Mr. Dudley, for me, too, that I regret much what has
-happened, and that I cannot serve him farther. You say that he went as
-far as the gates of Barhampton--I know not what could bring him
-thither, and assuredly I did not see him there; but that is no marvel,
-for I had much to do.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He went upon a kindly errand, Mr. Norries,&quot; replied Edgar, &quot;and
-certainly was there, for he said it, and Dudley's word is not to be
-doubted. But I will detain you no longer to-night, as you seem
-exhausted, and perhaps our conversation has been too long already. I
-thank you much for the information you have given me, and I am sure
-Dudley will be grateful also.&quot; Thus saying, the young gentleman shook
-hands with the sick man, and left him.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXV.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">At the end of the stone passage, Edgar found Martin Oldkirk waiting
-for him; and proceeding in silence, they issued forth from the old
-workhouse, but not by the front entrance, passing through a small door
-at the back, the key of which the countryman seemed to possess for his
-own private use, as he put it in his pocket after having turned it in
-the lock. As soon as they were a few steps from the building, Edgar
-turned towards his companion, saying, &quot;I must find Lane, the
-blacksmith, to-night. I suppose, my shortest way is through Langley?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir,&quot; answered Oldkirk, &quot;I will show you a shorter way than that;
-and I had better go with you too, for if I don't, you'll not make much
-of Edward Lane. We must take the first turning through the fields:
-there's a stile a couple of hundred yards up.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Without reply Edgar proceeded along the road; and they had nearly
-reached the stile of which Oldkirk spoke, when four or five men and a
-little boy sprang out from the hedge upon them. Two of them seized
-Edgar by the collar; and though he made an effort to shake himself
-free, it is probable he would have offered no violent resistance if
-Oldkirk had not struck violently right and left, knocking down one of
-the assailants, and severely hurting another. The men struck again in
-their own defence, and a general scuffle took place, in the midst of
-which, without knowing from what hand it came, Edgar received a severe
-blow on the head from a stick. The fire flashed from his eyes, his
-brain seemed to reel, and everything passing from his sight, he fell
-senseless to the ground.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">When Mr. Adelon recovered his recollection, he could not for some
-minutes conceive where he was, for all the objects around were new and
-strange to him. He was stretched upon a bed in a large but low-roofed
-room, with a woman and two men standing by him, and applying some cold
-lotions to his head. His brain seemed confused and dizzy, and a
-violent aching pain over his brows showed him that he had been very
-severely handled. The remembrance of all that had occurred came back
-to him almost immediately; and turning to one of the men, he demanded
-where he was, and why he had been so assaulted.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You are at Farmer Grange's for the present, master,&quot; replied the man;
-&quot;and no one would have hurt you, if you had not resisted. We came out
-to get hold of a party of those Chartists who are charged with being
-concerned in that business at Barhampton, and if you choose to go
-consorting with them, you must take the consequences.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Have you a warrant?&quot; demanded Edgar, raising himself on the bed.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We've got warrants against five or six on 'em,&quot; answered the man;
-&quot;Martin Oldkirk, Neddy Lane, Eaton, and others.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Have you a warrant against me?&quot; demanded Edgar; &quot;though I need not
-ask the question, for I know very well you have not.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;As to that, I can't say,&quot; was the man's answer, &quot;for I don't know who
-you are yet; but you were consorting with one of 'em, at all events.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You know very well that I am Sir Arthur Adelon's son,&quot; replied the
-young gentleman; &quot;and I demand that you show me your warrant against
-me. If you have one, I shall submit to the law, of course; but if you
-have not, I insist upon your suffering me to go home directly.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That I shan't do, you may be sure,&quot; said the man. &quot;I don't know who
-you are, or anything about you; and I shall wait till the constable of
-the hundred comes back, at all events. He's gone to Barhampton to find
-a surgeon for your head, that you would have broke, whether we liked
-it or no. He won't be long, I dare say, and you must stay quiet till
-he returns.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Resistance would be in vain Edgar well knew, and he was forced to
-submit, though most unwillingly; but gradually a stronger power
-mastered him. Violent and general headache came on, a sensation of
-feverish langour spread over his limbs, and by the time that the
-little clock which was ticking against the wall struck two, he felt
-that he was almost incapable of moving.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In about half an hour afterwards the head constable of the hundred
-came back from Barhampton, with the surgeon who was accustomed to
-attend Sir Arthur Adelon's family; and after examining his patient's
-head, and having felt his pulse, asking two or three questions at the
-same time as to what sensations he experienced, he drew forth his
-lancet, and proceeded, according to the old practice, to bleed his
-patient largely. Whether the custom of so doing be good or not, Edgar
-Adelon certainly felt great relief, though a degree of faint
-drowsiness spread over him at the same time. To his inquiry as to
-whether he could not be moved to Brandon, the surgeon shook his head,
-saying, &quot;Impossible;&quot; and Edgar then proceeded to complain of the
-manner in which he had been treated by the constable and those who
-accompanied him. In the midst of his statement, however, the
-overpowering sensation of weariness which he felt prevailed over even
-anger on his own account and anxiety for his friend, his eyelids
-dropped heavily once or twice, and he fell into a profound sleep.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">When he woke on the following morning it was broad daylight, and he
-found Mr. Filmer sitting by his bedside. His head still ached, but he
-felt better than on the preceding night, and a long explanation ensued
-as to the occurrences which had brought him into the state in which
-Mr. Filmer found him. As it was clear no warrant was out against him,
-and the men who had apprehended him had retired from the farm-house,
-somewhat apprehensive of the consequences of what they had done, Edgar
-expressed his determination to rise immediately and pursue the object
-which he had in view when he was seized. He explained in general terms
-to his companion the nature of the business he was upon; and no
-arguments of the priest, bearing upon the state of his own health, and
-the danger of the step he proposed, would have had any effect, had not
-Mr. Filmer added the assurance that Mr. Dudley's trial would not come
-on for several days, as he had received intimation that very morning
-that it was far down on the list, and that all the Chartists who had
-been taken at Barhampton were to be proceeded against in the first
-instance.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Besides, Edgar,&quot; he said, &quot;the object you have in view can perhaps be
-more easily attained. If you will tell me the name of the man you are
-seeking I will go to him myself, and find means, one way or another,
-to bring him hither to speak with you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The idea seemed to Edgar a good one, for in truth he felt little equal
-to the task, and after a few words more of explanation, Mr. Filmer set
-out upon his errand. As he went, Edgar turned his eyes towards the
-clock, and perceived to his surprise that it was nearly noon; but the
-priest did not return till the sky was beginning to grow gray, and
-then brought the unpleasant intelligence that Edward Lane was nowhere
-to be found.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He has probably heard of there being a warrant out against him,&quot; Mr.
-Filmer said, &quot;and has concealed himself till these assizes are over;
-knowing well, as we all know, that it is one of the bad customs of
-this country, whatever be the government, to let political offenders
-off easily if they avoid the first pursuit of justice, while those who
-are early apprehended have the law administered not only with
-strictness but with passion.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I must find him, at all events,&quot; said Edgar, &quot;and that speedily.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I shall know where he is by to-morrow morning,&quot; replied Mr. Filmer,
-with a meaning smile. &quot;I have directed several shrewd and trustworthy
-members of my own flock, who know him well, to obtain information, and
-communicate it to me at once. I will then let you know, my dear son.
-So make your mind easy, for not an hour shall elapse after I have
-received the intelligence before it is in your possession.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Again Edgar Adelon suffered himself to be tranquillized by assurances
-which would have had no effect, had he not been enfeebled by illness.
-The next morning when he woke his headache was gone, and his mind was
-fresh and clear, but he still felt very feeble, and willingly lay in
-bed till the good farmer's wife brought his breakfast, and the hour
-appointed for the surgeon's visit had nearly come. He wondered,
-indeed, that Mr. Filmer had not been with him, that Eda had neither
-come nor sent; and the doubts which she had raised regarding the
-sincerity of the priest began to recur unpleasantly to his mind. He
-became uneasy, restless; and when the medical man at length arrived,
-three quarters of an hour after his time, he shook his head, saying,
-&quot;You are not quite so well today, Mr. Adelon, and must remain
-perfectly quiet.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is lying here idle,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon, &quot;when I have many
-important things to do. I should be quite well were I up.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You must rise on no account to-day,&quot; replied the surgeon; &quot;and,
-indeed, I am very glad to find that you did not get up, which I almost
-anticipated you might do, as I am a little later than the hour I
-appointed. I know your impatient spirit of old, my young friend.&quot; And
-he smiled facetiously.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I certainly thought you never would come,&quot; replied Edgar; and the
-surgeon, fearful that he might have given some offence to the son of a
-wealthy patient, hastened to explain. &quot;The fact is,&quot; he said, &quot;that I
-was anxious to hear the trial of some of these Chartists, and rode
-over to ---- early this morning. I was detained, however, longer than
-I expected by a poor woman who is suffering under ----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But what came of them?&quot; exclaimed Edgar Adelon, eagerly, well knowing
-that when the worthy gentleman got upon an interesting case there was
-no end of it. &quot;The Chartists, I mean. Were any of the trials over?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no!&quot; answered the surgeon. &quot;Their trials are put off till the
-next assizes. The case of your acquaintance, Mr. Dudley, was just
-coming on. I should have stayed to hear it if I had had time; but as I
-promised to be over here by eleven I hurried away, otherwise I would
-have brought you all the news.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He spoke in the most commonplace tone in the world; and Edgar at that
-moment hated him mortally; but he said not another word, and kept his
-eyes shut almost all the time that his surgeon remained, as if he were
-inclined to go to sleep again. As soon as the man of healing was gone,
-however, he sprang up in his bed, hurried on his clothes, and without
-even waiting to wash himself or brush his hair, surprised the good
-woman of the house by appearing in the kitchen of the farm.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;La, sir!&quot; she exclaimed, &quot;I am glad to see you up again. I hope
-you're better.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! yes, quite well now, thank you, Mrs. Grange,&quot; replied the young
-gentleman, with a swimming head and a feeling of faint weakness in all
-his limbs. &quot;I am going out to take a ride, if your husband will lend
-me a horse.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That he will, I am sure, sir,&quot; answered the farmer's wife; and
-running to the window of the kitchen, she screamed out into the yard,
-&quot;Grange! Grange! here is Mr. Adelon quite well again, and wants you to
-lend him your nag to take a ride.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, wife,&quot; answered the farmer, coming out of a barn on the
-opposite side of the court. &quot;When will he like him?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Directly,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon, eagerly, and speaking over the good
-woman's shoulder; &quot;it will refresh me and do me good.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He shall be up in a minute, then, sir,&quot; answered the farmer. &quot;I am
-glad to see you well again. I'll just take some of the hair off his
-heels, and comb out his mane a bit----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">But Edgar did not stay to hear more, and hurrying back into the room
-to which he had been first taken, sought for his hat, which he found
-sadly battered and soiled. Without waiting even to brush off the dirt,
-he proceeded at once to cut short the farmer's unnecessary
-preparations, and mounting the horse, as soon as he could obtain it,
-rode away at a quick trot towards the county town. He knew not what he
-sought; he had no definite object in going; but he felt that he had
-been deceived, that he had been kept in idleness, while the fate of
-his friend was in jeopardy, and his impatience increased every moment
-till the farmer's nag was pushed into an unwonted gallop. He slackened
-his pace a little, it is true, as he entered the town, but still rode
-very fast to an inn close by the courts, and ringing the bell
-furiously, gave his horse to the hostler.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In a few moments he was pushing his way through the crowd in the
-entrance, and the next instant he caught sight of Dudley, standing
-with his arms crossed upon his chest, and his eyes fixed upon the
-jury-box. His brow was calm, but very stern; there was no fear in his
-fine eyes, but they were grave, even to sadness. On the opposite side
-were the jury, with their foreman leaning a little forward; and at the
-same instant a voice, coming from just below the bench, demanded, in a
-loud tone, &quot;How say you, gentlemen of the jury; Guilty, or not
-guilty?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Guilty of manslaughter, my lord,&quot; replied the foreman.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The eyes of Edgar Adelon turned dim, his brain reeled, and he fell
-back amongst the crowd without uttering a word.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXVI.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">Two years had passed.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Two years! What is it? who can say? Different to every being in the
-whole wide range of universal existence, Time is the true chameleon,
-and takes its colour entirely from the things through which it glides.
-Now gray and dull, now bright and shining, now purple with the mingled
-hues of exertion and success, rosy with love and hope, or azure with
-faith and confidence! Years, what are they? Nothing: for to many they
-have no existence; mere spots in the wide ocean of eternity, which
-realize the mathematician's utmost abstraction when he defines a point
-as that which hath no parts, or which hath no magnitude--neither
-length, breadth, nor thickness. Yet to others how important are years,
-how full of events, and feelings, and actions! How often is it that,
-in that short space of two years a life is crowded; so that when we
-look back at the end of mortal existence, there, gathered into those
-four and twenty months, stands out the whole of active being, and all
-the rest is idleness and emptiness, the broad selvages of the narrow
-strip of cloth.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Two years, too, viewed from different positions in the wide plain of
-life, how different do they appear! The prospective and the
-retrospective changes them entirely. It is the looking up and looking
-down a hill, for the perspective of time is very different from that
-of substantial objects. The vanishing point comes close to the eye
-when we gaze back; is far, far removed when we gaze forward. At every
-period of life, too, it changes, and with every feeling of the heart,
-with every passion of our nature. To the young man the two years just
-passed stretch far away, filled with incidents and sensations all
-bright in their novelty, and vivid to the eye of memory. To the old
-man they are but a space, and that space empty. He hardly believes
-that the time has flown which has brought him two strides nearer to
-the grave. Say to the eager and impetuous youth, two years must pass
-before you can possess her whom you love, and you spread out an
-eternity before him, full of dangers and disappointments. Tell the
-timid clinger to life's frail thread, you can but live two years
-longer, and the termination seems at the very door. Pain, pleasure,
-hope, fear, thought, study, care, anxiety, our moral habits, our
-corporeal sensations, our thirsty wishes, our replete indifference;
-all contract or expand the elastic sphere of time, and we find at last
-that it is but a phantasm, the sole existence of which is in change.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The sun, and the moon, and the stars, were given, we are told, to be
-for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and for years; and
-regularity was given to their motions, that order might be in variety;
-but variety is not less infinite because all is rendered harmonious,
-and regular recurrence only serves to work out spaces in the ever
-teeming progress of change. It is not alone that the vast whole does
-not present at any time two things exactly alike; but it is that all
-things in that whole, and the whole itself, are altering every
-instant, and every fraction of an instant, which gives us the infinity
-of variety. All is in movement, upon, throughout, and round the earth.
-All is undergoing change, but it is the vastness, the violence, the
-rapidity of that change, which marks time, or, in other words, marks
-the march of the shadow.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Two years had passed with their changes, and of those I shall speak
-hereafter. Suns had set and risen, day and night had been, months had
-succeeded weeks, hearts were cold that were then warm, eyes were dim
-that were then bright, the shade of gray had come upon the glossy
-hair, sickness and health had changed places in many a frame, states
-had seen revolutions, men had perished and been born, vice and virtue
-had triumphed or had failed, monarchs had died, and good and wise men
-passed away; shipwreck and flame, and war and pestilence, and accident
-and sorrow, had done their part; and bursting forth again from a
-thousand different sources, the teeming life of earth had sprung up
-and glittered in the sun, as if but the more abundant for that which
-had been abstracted from it. The world had grown older, but not less
-full; and those who had aided the work, and had undergone the change,
-were hardly conscious that it had taken place.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Two years had passed.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXVII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">It was evening. The sky was of a deep purple, seldom seen in any part
-of the northern hemisphere. There was a line of light upon the western
-sky, not yellow, not red: I know not the name of the colour; it was
-dying-day colour; the last gleam of the eyes of expiring light.
-Everything was solemn and grand. There was a deep stillness in the
-air, a vastness in the wide expanse, a profundity in the hues of every
-object, a silence and a grandeur in the whole, that sank into the
-soul, and filled the mind with imaginings melancholy though grand. One
-might stand there, and fancy one-self the first or the last of created
-beings upon earth, with the first or the last sunset before him.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It was a mountain-top, high over the flat lands around, starting up
-from the scrub abrupt and precipitous, and wherever the eye turned
-there was neither road, nor living thing, nor human habitation. Not an
-insect was heard, there was no wind in the heavens, the trees rested
-motionless, not a lizard was seen upon the rocks. Dark waves of
-magnificent vegetation flowed away like a sea from the feet, and a
-distant glimpse of the Austral Ocean, with the light of the sinking
-sun skipping along over its vast, solitary bosom, was the only thing
-that relieved the magnificent monotony; and yet it was a sea without a
-sail, without an oar.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Ten steps farther, and the summit will be gained!</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The ten steps were taken, and then all was changed. Another scene
-broke upon the view, infinite in its variety, magnificent in its
-colouring, and varied by life. But what life? Not that of man; not
-that of any creature which holds familiar intercourse with him. The
-savage beast and the wild bird of the wilderness were there; but
-neither flocks, nor herds, nor but, nor mansion, nor anything to show
-that the human foot had ever pressed before that beautiful and awful
-scene.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There, in centuries long passed, had flamed the wild volcano, lifting
-up its beacon-tower of flame over the untravelled seas of the far
-south. There had poured the torrent of the red lava; there had heaved
-and panted the earthquake ere the fire burst forth; there, perhaps,
-from the depth of the ocean, had been hurled up, in the last fierce
-struggle which burst the gates of the prison-house, and set free the
-raging spirit of the flame, the mighty masses of rock piled upon rock,
-precipice above precipice, coral and lava, limestone and basalt, the
-floorwork of the waters mingling in rifted masses with the barriers
-that hemmed it in, and all cemented together by a stream of manifold
-materials fused in the internal fire.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Towering up in wild, irregular walls, assuming strange shapes, but
-everywhere gigantic in size, the crags of lava surrounded a vast,
-profound basin, the crater of the extinct volcano. Precipice upon
-precipice, jagged rock rising beside jagged rock, formed the ramparts
-and the embrasures of the desert fortress; and the eye of the
-wanderer, as he looked down, caught suddenly a scene the most
-opposite, in the hollow space below, where soft green turf, of the
-richest verdure, carpeted the bosom of the cavity, till it reached the
-brink of the deep dark lake that filled up half the expanse.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Opposite, and surrounding about three-quarters of the lake, rose
-precipitous cliffs of pure white coral, some seventy or eighty feet in
-height, looking down into, and reflected from the waters; and, as if
-to make them harmonise with the solemn gloom of that still tarn, every
-here and there a large white bird skimmed over the waves, and carried
-a line of light along with it.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There was something which moved, too, under the nearest clump of tall
-trees, which were scattered wide apart over the carpet of verdure; but
-a mass of rock, which rolled down from the wanderer's foot, scared the
-creature which had caught his eye, and its wild and enormous bounds
-showed him in an instant that it was not, as he had fancied and
-feared, a human being like himself.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He had but little cause to fear. Never had the spot been visited by
-anything in the form of a man, unless it were the wildest and lowest
-of the race--the Australian savage--and that but rarely, if at all.
-Amidst the solitary peaks of Mount Gambier he stood alone; perhaps the
-first since the creation who ever set a footstep there.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As he gazed towards the west, the sun sank, and a greenish shade
-spread over the blue. He cast his eyes over the land through which he
-had lately passed: it was all one gray, indistinct mass. He looked
-down into the vast hollow of the hills; the colouring had suddenly
-faded, and darkness filled the chasm. But then, as if in compensation,
-the moment after came forth the stars, large and lustrous, bursting
-forth all at once, and spangling both the bosom of the heaven and the
-deep waters of the lake below.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Here will I live or die,&quot; said the wanderer; &quot;it matters not which.&quot;
-And placing his bundle under his head, he laid himself down beneath
-the edge of the rock, and gazed up towards the sky.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">A heavy dew fell during the night, and when the wanderer, whom we have
-seen climb that steep hill on the preceding evening, woke on the
-following day, his clothes were full of moisture, and his limbs felt
-stiff and weary. If he had desponded on the night before, it was well
-nigh despair that he now felt. He rose slowly, and gazed over the
-scene around him--the vast, voiceless solitude--and there was no
-comfort in it. He felt the spirit of desolation spreading its icy
-influence more and more strongly every moment over his heart, and he
-knew that if he gave way to it, even in the least, it would overwhelm
-him entirely, would put out strength and effort, hope, action, life
-itself. And yet he scarcely knew why he should struggle; the voice of
-despair still asked him what he had to live for. Every earthly object
-of existence seemed gone; why should he struggle to preserve that
-which had become valueless? &quot;Who would covet,&quot; he asked himself, &quot;the
-possession of a desert, and what is life to me but one tract of arid
-barrenness!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Strange, when the mood is nicely balanced, how small a grain of dust
-will turn the scale! A memory came upon him as the words passed his
-lips, a memory of early years, when, in the wanton spirit of youth,
-almost of boyhood, he had pictured to himself the free life of the
-children of Ishmael as an object of wild desire; and now he asked
-himself, &quot;Who would covet the possession of a desert?&quot; He recollected
-how he had dreamed of scouring the wide sands upon his fleet steed,
-climbing the red rocks, resting in his light tent, and living a life
-of free enjoyment and unrestrained exertion. The remembrance changed
-the current of his feelings, and gazing forth over the scene around,
-lit up and brightened with the rising sun, he asked himself another
-question: &quot;Why should I not, in the midst of this vast and beautiful
-solitude, realise those visions of my early youth?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Alas! long since then, experience and passion, and many a sweet and
-many a bitter lesson, had placed in his hands the keys of other
-enjoyments. He had tasted the food which makes early pleasures
-insipid; and when he thought again of those very simple dreams, he
-felt that there would be something wanting even in their fulfilment.
-Where were the friendly and the kind? Where were the bright and
-beloved? Where were the dear companionships? Where the elevating
-society? Where the food for the thoughts? Where the employment for the
-mind? Above all, where was the honoured name, the respect, the esteem
-which had once been his? And he felt too bitterly that what has been
-must still be had, even for peace: that it is deprivation, not denial
-of joys, that is unhappiness. Could he consent to live on in such
-circumstances? Was there anything within the scope of probability
-which could make life endurable? Could he debase himself to the sordid
-joys of those around him? Could he live a life of slavery and labour,
-with that barrier placed at the end of the course of exertion and
-obedience, which limited the utmost range of hope and expectation to
-free association with the low, the vile, and the base; to the
-accumulation, perhaps, of dross; to become a great man among the
-meanest of his race? That was not to be thought of; and what was the
-alternative? To live a roving life in the bush, companionless, if not
-with savages the most debased and barbarous of the human race; to fly
-the face of civilised man as a pestilence; to have neither
-acquaintances, nor friends: no social life, no love. Solitude,
-solitude! It is a lovely thing to abstract contemplation. The mind of
-man, not called upon to try the vast experiment, looks upon it, as
-upon every great endeavour, as bringing a reward with it equal to the
-difficulties and the impediments; but brought nearer, placed within
-the reach of effort, we cannot grapple with the mighty task. The
-feeble heart shrinks from it; the firm mind doubts and hesitates. We
-feel how sad and terrible it is to be alone; we learn that it is the
-antithesis of our nature.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It were better to die, he thought. There were hopes beyond the grave,
-which taught him that death was not solitude. That kindly voices would
-hail his coming. That, purified from all earthly imperfections,
-friendships high and holy--the friendships of the just made
-perfect--would console him for the loss of earthly esteem. But in life
-there was love, too--human, passionate love; and when he asked
-himself, what was to make up for that, the mind paused and pondered.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Let us not blame him, that he was still a being of clay; that he could
-not shake off the affections of this earth; that he could not
-altogether wish to die, while affections, deep and strong, bound him
-to the state of being in which God had placed him. That was the only
-tie to life yet left unsevered; but as the last, it was the strongest.
-He had often thought of these things before. He had often asked
-himself, &quot;Will she, too, believe me guilty? Will she cast me from her
-heart, as society has cast me from its bosom? Will she forget me? Will
-she wed another?&quot; And the deep love within his breast, imaging that of
-another, had ever answered, &quot;No, no, no! It cannot be.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The same voice was still strong, but yet there was a langour, a
-depression spreading over his whole frame, which dulled his ear even
-to the voice of the syren, Hope. Though she might love him, said
-Despair, what chance did there exist of his ever seeing her again?
-Condemned for life, unable to return, marked out as a felon, sent as a
-convict to a distant land, without means, without object in return,
-what could he do? His heart sunk at the thought. He must wither out
-there--there, in the midst of that wild solitude, falling back daily,
-as the progress of man advanced, to avoid recognition and fresh
-anguish.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He thought not, it is true, of raising his hand against his own life;
-such a purpose never presented itself as a temptation. He had too much
-faith; but he felt disposed to give up all exertion, to yield without
-a struggle to his adverse fate, to lay himself down and die. Still,
-however, one voice said, &quot;Live!&quot; and the last spark of human hope was
-fanned into a flame, faint, but yet sufficient to light him to
-exertion.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">With feeble hands and weary limbs he opened the knapsack which he had
-brought thither, took out the axe which was strapped upon the top, and
-then from the inside drew slowly forth some lines and fish-hooks,
-saying to himself, &quot;The good old man thought he bestowed an invaluable
-present on me when he gave the means of supporting life, but yet I
-could hardly feel grateful for the gift. I will not hesitate, however,
-between two courses, and as I have determined to live, will make an
-effort to save life.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In truth, he knew not well how to set about his task. The first thing,
-indeed, was to build himself a cabin; and choosing out an indentation
-of the rock, through which no wet seemed to have percolated, he
-resolved to fix his residence there, at least for the first; by doing
-which he was likely to spare much labour, enclosing it only on one
-side. He chose young and slight trees from amongst the infinity which
-grew around, and sharpened some of them for palisades, after he had
-hewn them down with the axe; but ere he had half completed even the
-necessary preparations, he felt faint and weary; and though not
-hungry, he resolved to see if he could procure some food to renew his
-strength.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Choosing out a thin and pliant sapling, he descended towards the bank
-of the lake slowly and with great difficulty, for the precipices were
-tremendous, and the natural paths few. At length, however, he
-accomplished it. And then came the question, when he reached the brink
-of the clear and limpid waters, of what was to be his bait? The sorrow
-which approaches despair is often bitterly imaginative; and as he sat
-with his head resting on his hand, and pondered, he thought of all the
-baits with which man is angled for and caught by his great enemy in
-the world; and oftentimes a rueful smile came upon his fine but worn
-countenance, in which he himself, and passages in his past existence,
-shared the sarcasm with his fellow men.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The sun rose while he thus wasted time, and pouring into the crater,
-filled it with ardent light. He felt very thirsty, and kneeling down
-upon the brink, which was covered with soft turf, he drank of the
-clear wave. As he did so, a large fly, of a peculiar golden colour,
-skimming away, settled on the face of the windless waters at a short
-distance, and instantly a fish, springing half out of the lake,
-enclosed it within its voracious jaws. &quot;We are all destroyers,&quot;
-thought the wanderer; and looking along the banks, he caught one of
-the same insects, fastened it to the hook upon his line, the line to
-the rod, and cast the baited snare upon the clear bosom of the water.
-The living objects of man's chase have doubtless their traditions; but
-the fish of that lake had never been taught human guile, and the
-instant the hook touched the water a large animal was upon it. To draw
-it to the shore cost the weak and weary man a considerable effort; but
-another and another, both considerably smaller, were soon after taken;
-and, satisfied with his spoil, he slowly ascended the steep paths
-again towards the place where he had commenced building his hut.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He had observed at that spot a tree, some of the branches of which had
-been shivered by the lightning, and with these he contrived to light a
-fire, and prepare his meal. After partaking of it frugally, he once
-more set to work again, to construct a dwelling which would give him a
-shelter from the not unfrequent storms of that land, and afford a
-defence against wild beasts, or wilder men, during the night.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It was, as may well be conceived, of the rudest and the simplest kind.
-The stakes he planted side by side, at a short distance from the rock,
-where a ledge of coral, projecting at the height of seven feet,
-overhung the turf about two yards, and formed a sort of roof. The door
-puzzled him greatly; for though he remembered well the expedients of
-the solitary mariner in Juan Fernandez, and often in thought drew a
-comparison between his own fate and that of Crusoe, yet he was
-destitute of many of the implements which the other had possessed. His
-axe and two gimlets had been given him in compassion by an old
-inhabitant of a very distant part of the colony, and these, with a
-large knife, formed all his store of tools. When the palisade was up,
-however, and the space, left open at first between the edge of the
-ledge and the top of the posts, had been covered over with twisted
-branches, the little strength which had been left was exhausted, and
-he lay down to rest beneath the shelter of a blackwood tree. Weariness
-and heat soon produced their usual effect, and he slept.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It was about three o'clock. His rod and fishing-line lay beside him,
-as well as the axe with which he had worked, and the chips and
-fragments of the small trees he had cut down were scattered all
-around. He had slept for a full hour; and during that time a change,
-to him of considerable importance had taken place in the scene. No
-human eye beheld it, but a large bird of prey, which was soaring aloft
-over the heights of Mount Gambier, saw a party ride rapidly through
-the plains below, and halt upon the first acclivity of the mountain.
-It consisted of six persons, only one of whom seemed of superior rank.
-There were, however, nine horses, three of which carried heavy
-burdens, consisting of sacks, bags, and cases. Each of the horsemen
-had a gun over his shoulder; and as soon as they had drawn the rein,
-they sprang to the ground, and commenced unloading the baggage,
-amongst which was found a small tent, requiring nothing for its
-erection but one of those poles that were easily to be procured in the
-neighbouring woods.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We shall have plenty of time to go up and come down again before it
-is dark,&quot; said the chief person of the party, speaking to one who
-seemed to be a servant. &quot;Give me the other gun, Maclean. We may get
-some specimens. I must have some more caps, too, for these will not
-fit it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">After a few more words and directions to the other men, the leader
-and two more commenced the ascent of the hill, which, from the spot
-they had already reached to the summit, did not occupy more than
-three-quarters of an hour, and then the stranger turned round and
-gazed, saying to himself, &quot;How magnificent!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I think we had better get on, captain,&quot; said his servant, Maclean.
-&quot;The sun's getting down, and we shan't have much time.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Pooh, nonsense!&quot; answered the other, looking at his chronometer; &quot;it
-is only a few minutes past four. This is the twenty-first of December,
-Midsummer-day, and we shall have light till half-past nine or longer.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We are a good bit farther north than we were at Hobart Town, five
-days ago, sir,&quot; replied the servant, seeing that his master still
-paused to gaze; &quot;and you will not have so much light as you think
-for.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, it does not much matter,&quot; answered the officer, a good-looking
-young man, with a very intelligent and benevolent expression of
-countenance. &quot;We can find our way down, I dare say, even in the dusk,
-especially if they light a fire to cook the kangaroo.&quot; He paused for a
-moment, and then said, in a meditative tone, &quot;I dare say we are the
-first human beings, certainly the first Europeans, who ever set their
-feet upon this hill.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I don't think it, sir,&quot; replied Maclean, who had taken a step or two
-nearer to the high precipitous rocks which surrounded the vast crater.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed!&quot; exclaimed his master. &quot;What makes you think so, my good
-friend?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That, captain,&quot; answered the man, pointing with his finger to a spot
-on the ground, a little to the right of himself and his master, on
-which, when Captain M---- turned his eyes that way, he saw lying a
-scrap of paper with something written upon it. On taking it up, he
-found that it was part of the back of a letter, with the English
-post-mark distinct upon it. The writing consisted only of a few words,
-or rather fragments of words, being a portion of the original address,
-and it stood thus:--&quot;----dley, Esq.--Brandon House,--onshire.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It signified very little to the eyes that saw it, for he knew not
-where Brandon House was, nor anything about it; but yet what strange
-feelings did the sight of that letter call up in his breast. Where was
-the writer? Where the receiver of that letter? Who could he be? What
-had become of him? What brought him there? were questions which the
-mind asked instantly, with a degree of interest which no one can
-conceive who has not stood many thousand miles from his own land, and
-suddenly had it and all its associations brought up by some trifling
-incident like this that I relate.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Putting his gun under his arm, and holding the paper still in his
-hand, Captain M---- walked slowly and thoughtfully on, passed through
-a break in the high wall of rocks, and gazed down into the basin of
-the mountain. The magnificence of the scene was gradually drawing his
-mind away from other thoughts, when his servant touched his arm, and
-said in a low voice, &quot;We had better be a little upon our guard, sir,
-for there are more people about us than we know of, and I have heard
-that our friends who take to the bush are worse devils than the people
-of the country; and they are bad enough. Look down there, and you will
-see the axe has been at work--ay, and there's a man lying under that
-tree. He looks mighty like as if he were dead.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I see, I see,&quot; answered Captain M----. &quot;You stay here with Johnstone,
-while I go on. Put a ball in each of your guns, however, in case of
-the worst; though I don't think, if we do not injure them, they will
-try to do any harm to well-armed men.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I wouldn't trust them,&quot; replied the servant; &quot;but we'll keep a
-look-out, sir, and I think I could put a ball in an apple at that
-distance.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Captain M---- advanced quietly, not wishing to wake the man if he were
-sleeping, till he was close to him; and so profound was his slumber,
-that the young officer gazed on him nearly for a minute without his
-having heard the approach of any one. At length Captain M---- stooped
-down, and shook him gently by the arm. The other instantly started up,
-and laid his hand upon the axe by his side; but the officer at once
-addressed him in a kindly tone, saying, &quot;Do not be alarmed; it is a
-friend.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;A friend,&quot; answered the stranger, rising to his full height, with the
-axe in his hand, and gazing at him from head to foot; &quot;that is a word
-easily said; but here it cannot be a true one. I have no friends,
-sir.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;In that, perhaps, you may be mistaken,&quot; answered Captain M----. &quot;As
-for myself, I trust I am a friend to the whole human race; but what I
-meant to say was, that I am not an enemy.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That one understands,&quot; answered the other; &quot;though it is somewhat
-difficult, too, in a land where nature seems to have planted fraud and
-enmity amongst the human race, and to which other countries send the
-offscourings of their population to propagate new crimes, and even
-degrade the barbarous wickedness they found.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The words and the appearance of his strange companion struck the young
-officer very much. His tone was high and proud, his look grave and
-thoughtful; and though there was a certain degree of bitterness in
-what he said, yet there was that gentlemanly dignity in the whole
-which could not be mistaken.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is strange to meet you, sir, in this place,&quot; said Captain M----,
-after a moment's thought. &quot;I had imagined, till a moment ago, that I
-was the first European who had ever climbed this hill.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You are the second, I believe,&quot; answered the stranger. &quot;I was the
-first; at least I can find no trace of any one of that adventurous
-race, who, in pursuit of wealth, dominion, science, pleasure, or
-health, penetrate into almost every part of the known world, having
-been here before me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then you are alone?&quot; said his visitor.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Quite,&quot; replied the other. &quot;You have men with you, I see,&quot; and he
-turned his eyes towards the servant and his companion, who were
-standing at a little distance. &quot;Whatever be your object, whether you
-come to take me, or are merely here from the curiosity which sets half
-our countrymen running over the world, you have but one man, and that
-a wearied and exhausted one, to deal with.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Set your mind at rest,&quot; replied Captain M----, who saw that there was
-some lingering suspicion still in the stranger's bosom. &quot;I have no
-commission, and certainly no wish, to disturb you in any way; neither
-did I come to these countries altogether from mere curiosity. A desire
-to benefit my fellow-creatures, and a strong interest in the fate of
-men whose crimes have shut them out from the general pale of society,
-but not, I trust, from the compassion of their brethren, or from the
-mercy of their God, first led me to a neighbouring island; and I am
-extending my wanderings through this uncultivated but beautiful
-country, with a hope of turning to account for others what I have
-myself observed. Perhaps you can give me some information; and I
-promise you, as a man of honour and a gentleman, never to say a word
-to any one which can do you the least detriment. I see you must be a
-man of superior education, and I should imagine of superior rank, to
-those who are usually met with in this country; and I am sure, after
-the candid expression of my views, and the pledge I have given you
-will not scruple to say anything that can further my objects.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have nothing to say,&quot; answered the other, seating himself where he
-had before been lying. &quot;I know little, have seen little; but all I
-have seen has been iniquity, and villany, and vice, and folly, and
-ignorance, in high and low, master and servant, convict and tyrant. I
-am inclined to cry with the Psalmist, 'There is none that doeth good;
-no, not one.'&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Captain M---- smiled somewhat sadly. &quot;I am afraid you are quite
-right,&quot; he answered; &quot;and it has long been my conviction that the
-system of what is called convict discipline in these colonies not only
-does not tend in the slightest degree to reform an offender, but tends
-to degrade his moral character to the lowest possible point. It is my
-belief that even the system followed at a very rude period of our
-history, and when the person sentenced to transportation was actually
-sold as a slave to the planters of America, though corrupt and
-abominable in a high degree, was really less detrimental to the
-unhappy convict than that upon which we now act. I have always held
-that we have no right to condemn a man's soul as well as his body; and
-I feel that we are here instrumental in plunging those whom we expel
-from our own country into vice and crimes more horrible than they ever
-contemplated when they committed the act which brought them hither.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The stranger smiled brightly. &quot;You seem to me,&quot; he said, &quot;to be the
-first really benevolent and reasonable man who has visited a place of
-abominations. But even you, perhaps, have not considered all. What
-little I can tell you, I will tell. Call down your men from above, and
-seat yourself here by me, and in the face of nature, and of the God
-who willed it to be 'very good,' I will tell you truly, without even a
-shade of deceit, all that my own short experience has shown.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot do so now,&quot; replied Captain M----, &quot;for I have got more
-companions below, and must go down to them before it is dark,
-otherwise they would probably come to seek me. But cannot you go down
-with us? You shall be kindly treated, I promise, and free to return
-whenever you please.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The stranger shook his Load. &quot;No,&quot; he said, &quot;I will never seek man
-again! I will lie in my own lair, like the beast of the field. Here I
-have beauty and excellence around me uncontaminated; but wherever
-man's foot treads, there is violence, and evil, and corruption.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well,&quot; replied the young officer, &quot;I will not press you, if you do
-not like it; but if you will permit me, I will come up again
-to-morrow, and we will talk of all these subjects fully, before I go
-back to Tasmania. There is a surveying vessel off the coast, which
-will wait for me till I come down; but in the mean time I would fain
-know what you meant when you said, in speaking of the abominations and
-evils of the convict system, that I had not considered all. It is
-probable, indeed, that I have not, although I have given great
-attention to the subject; but I wish to know what it was to which you
-alluded.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The stranger laid his hand on Captain M----'s arm, and said, &quot;In the
-fallibility of human judgment, in the difficulties of proof, and in
-the imperfection of law, it must often happen, and does often happen,
-that a man perfectly innocent is condemned with the guilty. Were it
-only that he had to suffer in person from the sad mistake, the event
-might be lamented, perhaps excused. But what have those lawgivers and
-those statesmen to reproach themselves with, who have framed a system
-which, in all cases of such error, must be fatal to the eternal
-happiness of the man unjustly condemned, which plunges him into an
-atmosphere pestilential to every good feeling of the heart, to every
-high principle, to every religious thought! Do they not know that vice
-is contagious? Have they not inoculated hundreds with the moral
-plague? Have they not even denied the sick the help of spiritual
-physicians in the pest-house to which they have confined them? I tell
-you, sir, it is from this that I have fled. Innocent of even the
-slightest offence towards my fellow-men, though doubtless culpable in
-much towards my God, I could have borne the labour, and the slavery,
-and the disgrace, if not without murmuring, yet with patience. But
-when I found that I was to remain, bound hand and foot, amidst beings
-corrupted beyond all cure, and daily to accustom my eyes and my mind
-to scenes and thoughts which could leave no high or holy feeling
-unblasted in my heart, I said, 'Man has no right to do this,' and I
-broke my chain.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Captain M---- seemed much moved, and he wrung the stranger's hand
-hard. &quot;I am sorry for you, sir,&quot; he said; &quot;I am sorry for you. I will
-come up to-morrow, and we will talk more. In the mean time, tell me
-what I must call you to myself; I know that many persons in your
-situation take an assumed name. It is that which I mean.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have taken none,&quot; answered the stranger, with a sad smile; and
-then, pointing to the fish lying on the grass, he added, &quot;You must
-think of me, if we never meet again, as the Nameless Fisherman of the
-Nameless Lake.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Nay, we shall meet to-morrow, if you are still here,&quot; answered
-Captain M----.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I shall be here, if I am alive,&quot; replied the stranger, &quot;to-morrow,
-and the next day, and for the years and months to come, till death
-relieves me. But perhaps even before to-morrow there may be an end of
-all. I have felt ill: the body has given way beneath the mind; the
-strong rider has well-nigh killed the weak horse; and this morning I
-felt as if I were incapable of any exertion. I did make it, however,
-and methinks I am better for my labours. But now, adieu! The sun has
-reached a point whence his descent will be rapid, and darkness will
-overtake you if you have far to go.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Farewell!&quot; answered Captain M----. &quot;I scarcely like to go and leave
-you here alone, or to think of what you will have to endure in this
-solitude, if you persist in remaining here. How you are to procure
-food, or shelter, or clothing, I do not perceive.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The skins of beasts,&quot; replied the stranger, &quot;will give me clothing
-good enough for my state: the fish of the lake must give me food.
-Bread, indeed, I may never taste again, but there are fruits and roots
-which may supply its place. Then as to shelter, the clefts of the
-rock, the caverns by which it is pierced, will afford all that I need;
-and as for means and appliances to make these things available, nature
-must furnish and teach me. Surely I shall not be more helpless than
-one of the savages of this land. They live, and I shall live; longer,
-at least, than is desirable to myself. Farewell, farewell!&quot; And once
-more bidding him adieu for the time, Captain M---- left him, and
-returned to his people.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXIX.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">The emotions with which Dudley saw the strangers depart were very
-strong. It seemed like the last glimpse of civilised life to be
-afforded him. It brought back the memory of happier hours. The
-pleasant thoughts of early days returned; and as he did not wish that
-any one should see the strong movements of his heart, he paused for
-several minutes, till he thought the visitor and his party must have
-descended the hill to some distance; and then, walking slowly to the
-top and through the break in the cliffs, he followed the track which
-they had pursued with his eye, till it lighted on them, and then
-watched them till they were lost amongst the trees which surrounded
-the spot where they had fixed their little encampment. Then turning
-back to the sort of dwelling-place he had chosen, he spread the turf
-within the enclosures thickly with the leaves which he stripped from
-the branches. Kneeling down upon the ground, just without the
-palisade, he prayed for about five minutes; and then rising, watched
-the sky while it ranged through almost every colour of the rainbow,
-till at length it became gray, and knowing that five minutes more
-would bring darkness, he placed his knapsack as a pillow on the
-leaves, and once more laid himself down to sleep. Slumber was not so
-easily obtained, however, as it had been on the night before: he felt
-better in body, indeed, but more depressed in mind. The visit of the
-stranger had disturbed rather than calmed him; it had roused up
-regrets which he had laboured to banish; it had shown him, more
-forcibly than ever, the value of all which he had for ever lost, and
-he lay and meditated painfully for more than one hour.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">At length, however, he slept; and, although it lasted not for long,
-his slumber was refreshing. Shortly after daybreak he was on foot
-again, and felt lighter and easier than on the preceding day. Prayer
-was his first occupation; and then going down to the banks of the
-lake, he undressed and plunged in, swimming boldly, as he had been
-accustomed to do while a student in a civilised land. The walk up the
-hill warmed him again, though he had found the water very cold; but
-there was invigorating refreshment in the cool wave; and the rejoicing
-sensation of returning strength diminished to the eye of imagination
-the dangers of the present, the evils of the past, and the dreariness
-of the future. When he reached his hut, he lighted the fire as before,
-put one of the fish he had caught to broil on the ashes, and then sat
-down to consider what was to be done next. Tools he wanted of many
-kinds, and weapons for the chase; and he saw that notwithstanding all
-the advantages of education, the savage, accustomed to depend upon
-himself alone, had great advantages over the European, habituated to
-tax the industry of a thousand hands for the production of every
-article he used. He had learned something, indeed, of the natural
-resources of the country, of that which it produced spontaneously for
-the support of life, and he doubted not that, till the winter came on,
-he should be able to supply himself with all that was needful. The
-intervening time he proposed to devote for preparations against that
-period, when, although game might be more easily found, the tree and
-the shrub would refuse all contributions. He would fashion for himself
-a bow, he thought, tall and strong, such as he had drawn in early
-days; he would prepare snares, ay, and nets, perhaps, from the fibrous
-bark of the trees. The spoils of the chase should furnish him with
-clothing, and he would lie in wait for the creatures of the wood, like
-the hunters in the days of old.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He smiled as he thus thought, but there was bitterness in it, too; and
-rising up, he set to work to complete that which the previous evening
-had left undone.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He had hardly commenced, however, when the sound of voices calling
-reached him, and looking out from his hut, he saw his visitor of the
-night before, with three men, each laden with his several burden.
-Dudley suspended his labour, but did not advance to meet them. The
-society of one he could bear, but the presence of many was a load to
-him.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There; lay the things down under the tree,&quot; said Captain M----, when
-they were within about a hundred yards, &quot;and then go and do as I told
-you, taking care, if you find any of the specimens I mentioned, not to
-break the crystals. You can return about two. Till then leave me here
-without interruption, except in case of emergency.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The men deposited their burdens on the ground, and the young officer,
-coming frankly forward to his new acquaintance, shook hands with him,
-saying, &quot;This wild life has a strange charm. I think I could go on
-roving through these scenes as long as life and health lasted.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Do you see that sun,&quot; asked Dudley, &quot;soaring up from the dark
-horizon, like an eagle from its eyry?<a name="div4Ref_01" href="#div4_01"><sup>[1]</sup></a>
-Do not, however, suppose it
-is that which gives the light and beauty you find in these scenes. The
-sun is in man's heart. You have no dark shadow on you, either innate
-or accidental. You have no foul thoughts to mourn, as some in these
-lands have. You have no black cloud hanging over fame, and blighting
-life, like myself. You have no disappointed hopes, and fruitless
-yearnings for friendships and affections lost for ever, to spread the
-golden pathway of the sky with a dull, gray pall. Well may all seem
-bright to you: you have no despair.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Man should never despair so long as there is a pure spot in his
-heart,&quot; replied Captain M----; &quot;and the innocent wrongly condemned
-should despair least of all, knowing that there is one who sees where
-man sees not, and who, though in wisdom he may chastise, yet in his
-own good time will comfort and raise up.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is that faith alone which gives me strength to live,&quot; replied
-Dudley; &quot;but yet my fate is sad: so sad as to darken all around. Were
-it not for that chance of change below, which hope ever holds out to
-the man not utterly lost, and for that certainty of change in another
-world which faith affords to the believer, life here, to a man wronged
-and blasted as I have been, would be a boon not worth the keeping.
-What have I to look forward to?--a life of toilful solitude,
-struggling each day for bare subsistence, without companionship or
-sympathy, without speech, without object, without reward, and with the
-high privilege of thought unfruitful except of bitterness and ashes.
-When the time of age and sickness comes, too, what will be my fate
-then? But I will not think of it. I shall be an idiot before that, or
-worse, a savage.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Nay, I trust not,&quot; answered Captain M----. &quot;If you are innocent, as
-you say, sooner or later that innocence will appear, and--&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Impossible!&quot; replied Dudley. &quot;I had a fair and impartial trial; there
-was a skilful and well-conducted defence; the jury were men of probity
-and sense; the judge mild and equitable. All was done that could be
-done, and hope on that side would be worse than vain.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then you must learn to endure your lot,&quot; said Captain M----, gravely,
-&quot;and to make it as tolerable as possible by your own exertions. I can
-do little to help you or to render it easier, but that little I will
-do. I have brought you up a few things that may be a comfort to you
-for a time, and some others which will be of more permanent service. I
-can well spare them, for I shall embark to-night, and can procure
-more. Come and see the little store, which, though mere trifles, may
-be of much use to you: at least till you have become accustomed by
-degrees to the fate which has fallen upon you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley followed him with a full heart; and sitting down by the bundles
-which the men had brought up, Captain M---- exposed to his companion's
-eyes what was, indeed, a treasure to one placed in such strange and
-fearful circumstances. There were blankets against the wintry cold,
-and a rough wrapping coat; some packets of common medicines in a small
-white wood box; a hammer, a small saw, and one or two other tools,
-together with a good knife, and a measure. There was a case bottle,
-too, and a drinking-cup, and some linen.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;This other packet,&quot; said Captain M----, &quot;contains some books: one on
-the botany of this colony, which may be very serviceable to you; a
-single volume of essays, some sermons written for the convicts, the
-Vicar of Wakefield, and a Bible.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They will indeed be treasures,&quot; said Dudley, with a glad look. &quot;A
-Bible I already possess. That has been left to me, though I have
-lost all else; and most grateful do I feel for so much kindness,
-sir--kindness where I have no right nor title to expect it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Every man has a right to expect it of his fellow men,&quot; answered
-Captain M----; &quot;and I should be worse than a brute if I could refuse it
-to one circumstanced as you are, when I will not pretend to doubt your
-innocence.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is strange!&quot; said Dudley, thoughtfully; &quot;that you should not
-doubt it, knowing nothing of me, while others who knew much, did
-doubt.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And yet,&quot; answered his companion, &quot;I am not without a reason. I have
-accustomed myself much to observe men, and the way in which they act,
-under particular circumstances, and I never yet saw one who owned he
-had a fair and impartial trial in every particular, and yet declared
-himself innocent, unless he was innocent. There has been always a
-something which he thought unfair--a cause why he had been cast, as it
-is termed; either the judge was wrong, or the jury was wrong, or the
-witnesses were perjured, or the counsel for the prosecution had acted
-unfairly, or something or another had given an unfavourable turn to
-the trial. However, I will beg of you to accept of these little
-articles, and moreover, this small writing-case, with which I have
-travelled. I know not whether it will be useful to you at present,
-being entirely unaware of the circumstances of your case; but at a
-future period it may be most serviceable; and even now, if you feel
-inclined to write a few lines to any friend in England, I will carry
-your letter safe to the next post, and take care that it shall be
-forwarded to its destination.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What can I say?&quot; asked Dudley, putting his hand to his brow, and
-speaking as it were to himself. &quot;Nevertheless, I will write, if it be
-but a few words, to tell them that I still live;&quot; and thanking Captain
-M---- again and again, especially for his last gift, Dudley seated
-himself, and wrote as follows:--</p>
-<br>
-
-<p style="text-indent:6%">&quot;<span class="sc">Dear Edgar</span>,</p>
-
-<p style="text-indent:5%">&quot;Though deprived of the power of seeing you before I went, I heard
-something of your kindness, and my heart will ever be grateful. I know
-you have never doubted my innocence, nor has Eda. Tell her, for me,
-that I am innocent, and that my innocence and my faith are my only
-support. I have quitted the colony to which I was sent: broken, in
-short, the bonds which they placed upon me, and I am now living in
-perfect, utter solitude. Tell her I love her still--shall always love
-her. Yet, let her forget me; for what but pain can follow remembrance
-of one so lost to hope and all that brightens earth as</p>
-<p style="text-indent:45%">&quot;<span class="sc">Edward Dudley.</span>&quot;
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">He folded the letter, and addressed it, and then gazed at it for a
-moment with a somewhat puzzled expression of countenance. &quot;How shall I
-seal it?&quot; he said at length.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You will find wax and a light-box in the top of the case,&quot; answered
-Captain M----, with a smile. &quot;That which I provided for a long journey
-amongst civilised men as well as wild nature, may serve you for many
-months in this solitude.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;For many years,&quot; said Dudley, sadly; &quot;but yet it will be a treasure
-and a consolation to me. Even the capability of noting down the
-passing of the days is something, and I thank you from the very bottom
-of my heart.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The letter was accordingly sealed and delivered to the charge of
-Captain M----, who looked at the address with interest, thinking, as
-he did so, &quot;I must inquire into this case, for it seems a very strange
-one.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In the mean time, Dudley was gazing at the light-box with a thoughtful
-air. &quot;This will be most serviceable too,&quot; he said at length, &quot;for I
-can foresee that in the winter I shall have much difficulty in
-procuring fire. There are no flints here; and although I know that the
-savages can obtain a light by rubbing pieces of dry wood together, yet
-I have seen none that is fit for the purpose. I have had great
-difficulty already in lighting a fire, and the scorched branches which
-afforded me the means of doing so will soon be exhausted. I must wrap
-this little box carefully up, so as to keep it from all damp, and
-doubtless the matches will last me through the winter.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am sorry there are no more of them,&quot; answered Captain M----; &quot;but at
-all events they will give you time to learn other contrivances. I know
-not well, indeed, how you procure food, for I suppose you do not live
-altogether on the produce of the lake.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not propose to do so,&quot; said Dudley, &quot;for in some seasons I
-believe it would afford me no supply; but I must have recourse to the
-old primeval means--the bow and arrows, and the snare,&quot; he added, with
-a smile.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Captain M---- looked for a moment or two at the fine double-barrelled
-gun which lay beside him, before he answered; but then, raising his
-eyes with a frank, kind expression, he said, &quot;Perhaps I am doing
-wrong, but I cannot make up my mind to leave you altogether dependent
-upon such very precarious means of support. I have said I believe you
-innocent; let me add, I feel sure you are a man of honour also, and if
-you will promise me never to use what I am going to give against human
-life, except in your own defence, and especially not against any one
-sent to take you, in case such a thing should ever occur, I will leave
-you this gun, and supply you with ammunition. You will then be in a
-condition always to procure food at least.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The promise he required was readily made; and Dudley said little more,
-for the feeling of gratitude he experienced was overpowering. He sat
-with his head leaning on his hand, buried in meditation; and who can
-trace the wild range of his thoughts during the few minutes which he
-thus remained silent. His companion saw that his kindness had plunged
-him into that sort of gloom which is often produced by feelings the
-most noble and the most tender, when they stand strongly contrasted
-with some dark and irremediable point in the fate of those who
-experience them; and in order rather to rouse him from his reverie
-than anything else, he said, &quot;I suppose you are well accustomed to the
-use of a gun.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will show you,&quot; answered Dudley, who was certainly one of the most
-skilful marksmen of his day. &quot;Let us walk down the hill; we shall
-doubtless find some game; and if you will permit me, I will prove that
-you do not place your gun in inexpert hands.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Willingly,&quot; replied Captain M----, rising from the ground where he
-had been seated. &quot;I am sorry I have not more powder and shot with me;
-but I will leave upon the spot where our little party is encamped all
-that we have, except a few charges, which may be necessary as we go
-down towards the sea-shore. If you are provident it will serve you for
-some time; and ere long, depend upon it, a population will grow up
-around you from whom you will be able to obtain fresh supplies. This
-country must be destined to be much more thickly populated very soon.
-The human race is advancing in every direction, and the progress
-already made is marvellous.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is the most frightful consideration of all the many which
-present themselves to the mind in contemplating the present state of
-the neighbouring colony,&quot; replied Dudley. &quot;When one thinks of its
-rapid progress, and of the multitudes springing up here like a crop of
-grain, and remembers that almost every seed is diseased, that the
-moral condition of almost every human being is either tainted at his
-arrival, or destined soon to be tainted by the contaminating
-influences to which he is exposed, what can we look forward to in the
-future but a perfect hell upon earth? Can we expect that, without
-efficient guidance, with few means of religious instruction, with no
-moral restraints and no correcting principle but the fear of corporeal
-punishment, destitute of even habitual reverence for probity, crowded
-together in places where virtue, and honour, and honesty, are a scoff
-and a reproach, where the highest distinction is excess in vice or
-skill in crime, can we expect that any man who may become a father
-will breed his child up in the way that he should go, and will not
-rather infect him with his own vices, to be fostered and matured by
-others, equally, if not more, conversant with crime? It is a known
-fact, sir, that in the neighbouring colony of Van Dieman's Land the
-free emigrant of the lower class is looked upon with more doubt and
-suspicion even than the convict, and is, nine times out of ten, as
-base and degraded. What must a colony become thus constituted? and
-what is the awful responsibility upon a nation which, possessing a
-large, I might say an immense, extent of fertile and beautiful
-country, plants in it, as the germ of future nations, all that is
-wretched, abominable, and depraved of the mother country; denies the
-wretched men that it sends out the means of amelioration, and by every
-law and ordinance insures that the pestilence shall be propagated from
-man to man, till none but those who are placed above temptation by
-superior fortune or superior culture remains unaffected by moral
-disease more frightful than any plague which ever ravaged the world?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But how can this be amended?&quot; asked Captain M----. &quot;What are the
-means?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They require deep consideration,&quot; replied Dudley. &quot;It is the actual
-state of things which first strikes us; the remedies may be long in
-seeking. This is more especially the case when a particular system has
-long been going on, and every attempt at partial reform has but added
-evil to evil, till at length the whole has become intolerable. The
-natural process is easily described; and it is only by historically
-viewing the question that we can see how such monstrous abominations
-have arisen. These things are not done as a whole: it is step by step
-that they are performed. If man sat down calmly to consider what was
-best to be done under particular circumstances, if he meditated
-philosophically upon the object which he proposed to attain, and
-endeavoured to foresee, as far as the shortness of the human view will
-permit, the results of all that he attempts for temporary purposes, he
-might frame, and would frame, if not a perfect system, at least one,
-the defects in which would be comparatively few, and easily remedied;
-but what has been usually his course? He has considered the temporary
-purpose alone, and that not philosophically. In the first institution
-of transportation, his object seemed to be twofold: to punish guilty
-persons, and to deliver their country from their presence. Simple
-exile was the simplest form in which this could be achieved; the next
-was the selling of the convict for a slave; then came the
-transportation to a colony of the mother country, with a prohibition
-against return: otherwise the peopling of a colony with the vicious
-and the criminal; then punishment in the colony was added to mere
-transportation; and in all and every one of these steps, nothing was
-held in view but infliction on the culprit--relief to his native land.
-Reformation was never thought of, degradation was never guarded
-against; the moral condition of the convict, or his religious
-improvement, was never taken into consideration; nor did the mind of
-man seem to reach, till within the last few years, the comprehension
-of that essential point in the whole question, that where the convict
-was going he was to become the member of a vast community, the state
-and condition of which would for years be strictly connected with that
-of the country which expelled him. None of these things were ever
-thought of, and still less the high and imperative duty which binds
-legislators to attempt, in punishing, to reclaim; a duty not only to
-their country and to their fellow men, but to their God.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Captain M---- seemed to ponder over his companion's words for a few
-moments, and then replied. &quot;I doubt not that what you say is true. The
-evils you speak of have arisen, in a great part, from the want of a
-due comprehension and consideration of the objects to be obtained; but
-were that all, the evils of the system existing would be speedily
-remedied; but I fear there is another great error which statesmen have
-fallen into, and which will ever, as long as it is persisted in, throw
-insuperable obstacles in the way of reform. The error I allude to is a
-belief that corporeal punishment will reclaim. I am convinced that its
-only tendency is to degrade and render more vicious the person on whom
-it is inflicted. That it must exist I do not deny, for the probability
-of incurring it must be held up before the convict's view, to deter
-him from adding fresh crimes to those which have gone before; but the
-principal means I would employ would be entirely moral means:
-encouragement to a right course, exhortation, instruction, and the
-chance of recovering gradually that sense of moral dignity, the want
-of which is a source of all evil.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;A theory which may be pushed too far,&quot; said Dudley, &quot;though excellent
-in itself. Punishment is undoubtedly needful, both as a restraint and
-an act of justice, but believe me also, that coercion as a means is
-likewise required. I am convinced that in all these matters we try to
-generalize too much. If we consider the infinite variety of human
-characters, we shall see that an infinite variety of means is required
-in the direction of any large body of human beings. To expect that any
-man, or any body of men, should be able to scrutinize the character of
-each individual convict, so as to apply the precise method of
-treatment to his particular case, would be to require far too much;
-but the rules and regulations adopted by a government, and carried out
-by its officers in the colony, should be such as to render the
-application of particular means as easy as possible. Entrusted to
-well-instructed and observing men, a general knowledge of the
-character of each convict could be easily obtained from his conduct on
-his passage, and of the crime for which he received sentence. The
-reports thus obtained might form the basis for correct classification
-on the arrival of each ship; and the distribution of the unfortunate
-men sent out might be afterwards made in accordance with this
-classification. Thus you would save those comparatively pure from
-contamination, and you would reduce the number of those requiring
-strict supervision and coercion to the utmost possible extent. You
-would acquire, in fact, the power of at once applying the means to the
-end; you would know where moral means would be most efficacious, where
-restraint was most needful, and have some guidance for shaping your
-conduct according to the necessities of the case. I am aware, indeed,
-that some classification is made, but of the most imperfect character,
-and this I look upon as one of the causes of the total failure of the
-system of transportation. I believe, also, the machinery, both for
-improving the moral conduct of the convict, and for preventing crime
-after his arrival in the colony, has been most inadequate from the
-very beginning. I look upon it that one of the greatest possible
-objects is, by constant and active supervision, to prevent the
-possibility of a vicious course being pursued for some time after the
-convict's arrival in the colony. Believe me, that to dishabituate his
-mind from the commission of evil, is the first step to habituate it to
-the pursuit of good. But what has been the case? When first convicts
-were sent to this colony--the period is not very remote--it never
-seemed to enter into the contemplation of those who sent them to
-afford them any religious instruction, and it was entirely owing to
-the exertions of a private individual that the means of spiritual
-improvement were provided them at all; and now, when the influx of
-these unhappy men into Van Dieman's Land is from five thousand to nine
-thousand per annum, if we look either to the opportunities afforded
-them of obtaining religious training, or to the power granted to the
-local government of ensuring constant supervision, even in the cases
-of the most hardened and irreclaimable, we shall find that it is
-utterly inadequate to the numbers who require it. What can be the
-result? What right have we to expect anything but that which we see?
-With a system founded originally in an incomplete view of the case,
-with an incomplete classification of the persons on whom it is to
-operate, and with the most inefficient means of carrying out the
-objects which should be ever held in view, the failure is inevitable;
-and thus has a place set apart for the reception of criminals, whom it
-was a duty not only to punish but to reform, become a mere nest of
-unreclaimed felons, and a school for every species of vice and
-wickedness which can degrade the human race, and bring eternal
-destruction upon the soul of man. The way in which these colonies have
-been conducted, I do not scruple to say, is a great national sin,
-which cannot be without it punishment.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The conversation proceeded in the same strain for some time further,
-during which they made their way slowly downward towards the banks of
-the lake, now pursuing a green path amongst large masses of rook and
-stone, now descending natural steps as it were in the coral rock, now
-pausing to gaze with interest into one of the deep caves which pierced
-the side of the precipice, and in which the light assumed a shadowy
-red from the hue of the internal walls. To two warm-hearted and
-enthusiastic men, a conversation so deeply affecting the best
-interests of their fellow-creatures was, as may well be supposed,
-highly interesting, and there was something in the grandeur, the
-wildness, and the solitude of the scene, which seemed to elevate and
-expand the thoughts as they reasoned of the destinies of the
-multitudes fated to be the fathers of a population about ere long to
-overspread the wide uncultivated tracts around them. The morning was
-balmy and refreshing, the sun had not yet risen high enough to render
-the heat burdensome; and as their course lay along the eastern side of
-that wide basin, the cool shadows of the rocks, and hills, and trees,
-spread out long and blue over the rugged precipices and the verdant
-turf at their feet. For a time they forgot the object of their walk,
-but at length Dudley pointed to a spot in the sky, saying, &quot;There is a
-vulture, and if you will permit me I will try my skill in bringing him
-down. He will soon come near; for I have remarked in travelling hither
-that in this country the birds of prey, whenever they see a moving
-object, approach it rapidly. The butchers of the air have not yet
-learned that there are butchers of the earth more powerful than
-themselves.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You had better draw out the balls and put in some slugs,&quot; said
-Captain M----, handing him the gun; &quot;though I suspect he will not come
-within range.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will try the ball upon him,&quot; said Dudley; &quot;I used not often to miss
-my mark, but it is two long years since I had gun or rifle in my
-hand;&quot; and gazing down upon the highly finished fowling-piece, he
-thought of the morning when he had gone out to shoot with Edgar
-Adelon, and all the dark and terrible events which had followed.
-Suddenly rousing himself, after a few moments he looked up towards the
-sky again, and saw that the bird had approached much nearer, skimming
-along just over the summit of the crags which towered above them, and
-with curved neck and bent head, eyeing them as he sailed along. Dudley
-put the gun to his shoulder, and though Captain M---- remarked, &quot;He is
-much too far,&quot; pulled the trigger, after a momentary pause. The report
-was hardly heard before the broad wings fluttered with convulsive
-beating, collapsed, and whirling round and round in the air, the
-tyrant of the mountain came thundering down at the distance of some
-thirty yards from them. When they reached the spot where he lay they
-found him quite dead, though the yellow eyes still rolled in the bare
-skinny head. The ball had passed right through him; but it seemed that
-he had recently been inflicting the fate upon some other creature
-which he had just received himself, for his strong horny bill and
-talons were red with blood, which, from its fresh appearance, could
-not have been shed very long.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;This would seem a species of condor,&quot; said Captain M----, after
-examining it carefully. &quot;What an immense extent of wing! I must carry
-it away with me as a very fine specimen.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I thought the condor was confined to South America,&quot; said Dudley;
-&quot;but I am very ignorant of such subjects, and certainly here shall not
-have any temptation to form a museum of natural history. I must save
-whatever powder and shot you can afford me, for the sole purpose of
-obtaining food, and refrain from spending it upon my fellow-animals of
-prey.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is a condor, I think,&quot; answered his companion; &quot;and I believe that
-species is spread more generally over both the old and new world than
-is supposed. They are very rare, however, everywhere.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have seen many strongly resembling this creature hovering about
-these cliffs and the top of the neighbouring hill,&quot; answered Dudley;
-&quot;but, of course, I never could approach one till now, for they did not
-think fit to attack me, and I had no means of bringing them down. We
-will carry it back with us; but first, I must provide you with some
-dinner, and the lake is my only resource. Some of the feathers of this
-good gentleman will make an artificial fly, not at all unlike those I
-saw yesterday on the shore;&quot; and sitting down by the dead vulture, he
-speedily constructed an insect which had sufficient resemblance to
-those they were accustomed to devour, to deceive the voracious
-inhabitants of the waters.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Five or six large fish, not exactly trout, but somewhat resembling
-that species, repaid an hour's angling; and then walking back, the two
-wanderers, each with his own particular burden, made their way to the
-spot where Dudley's fire had been lighted the day before. Their meal
-was frugal enough; bread they had none; their drink was supplied by a
-little stream issuing from the rocks; but yet it seemed pleasant to
-both, and Captain M---- said, with a smile, when he saw his companion
-somewhat puzzled as to how he should distribute the food, &quot;I can see
-you are not accustomed to this roving life. The memory of old habits
-clings to you still; but as far as my experience shows me, it is
-wonderfully less tenacious with uncultivated than with cultivated
-minds. A few months is quite sufficient to qualify any convict for a
-bushranger.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It would take years so to qualify me,&quot; replied Dudley. &quot;I affect no
-particular degree of refinement, but I do think the delicacies of life
-form one of the greatest charms of society. They are, in fact, based
-upon higher principles than at first appear. I believe that they are
-all founded upon the maxim, 'neither to be, nor to seem, nor to do
-anything, which can be unnecessarily offensive to others.' This
-implies no sacrifice of principle, and no unreasonable subserviency of
-manner; for the moment a man tries to bend what is right to what is
-courteous, that instant courtesy becomes a vice; but I never yet heard
-a reasonable opinion which could not be so expressed as to offend no
-reasonable man; and with regard to the minor and to the conventional
-courtesies, to omit them where no wrong is implied would be a
-violation of that which is due to our follow-men and to ourselves.
-Nevertheless, you must not expect towels and water-basins in the
-desert to wash after you have eaten with your fingers, any more than
-you must expect bread where there are no ovens, or wine where no
-grapes grow.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am perfectly satisfied,&quot; answered Captain M----, in a gay tone; &quot;I
-shall find my finger-glass at the little stream there, and my napkin
-on the green grass; but still, my good friend, there are several
-little things which may be serviceable to you in my small encampment
-down below. I shall have no need of them, going back so soon; and I do
-heartily believe there are no less than four or five round-pointed
-table-knives, and at least three two-pronged forks. Some towels, too,
-may not come amiss; and if ever you should have another dinner-party
-here, they may serve as napkins as well. I will leave them on the spot
-when we go away, and you can take possession of them at your leisure.
-I could procure you, too, a box of nails from the ship; but I do not
-know how to convey them to you without discovering your retreat to
-those on board; and, doubtless, you would not like to come into too
-near proximity with the people of the vessel, especially as they have
-orders to search for and seize an escaped convict of the name of
-Brady; a most desperate fellow, who has hitherto frustrated every
-attempt to take him. He has somehow made his way over hither from Van
-Dieman's Land, at least it is supposed so.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He has not come to this district, as far as I have seen,&quot; answered
-Dudley; &quot;but still it would be better to avoid all recognition.
-Nevertheless, I will admit, this box of nails you speak of would be of
-greater value to me than a box of pure gold, and if you will put it on
-shore at a spot where these two hills are in a direct line with each
-other, I will seek it and bring it away. I might say I will hereafter
-find some way to show my gratitude; but now I have none, nor any hope
-of so doing. I can therefore but thank you again and again, and say,
-would there was a chance of my being able to do that for you and yours
-which my heart prompts, but which my means forbid.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not for ever, not for ever,&quot; answered Captain M----.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I feel very sure that if you but persevere in abstaining from evil, a
-time will come when errors will be removed and truth made manifest.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Beyond the grave,&quot; answered Dudley; and then suddenly changing the
-conversation, he carried it on in a somewhat lighter tone, till
-Captain M---- rose to leave him. They parted like two old friends who
-might never meet again, and while one carried away a feeling of deep
-intense interest and curiosity, the other remained with a sensation of
-desolation more profound and painful than ever.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXX.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">Wearily passed the days; for though active exertion is undoubtedly the
-best of all mere earthly balms to the hurt mind--and Dudley had plenty
-of it--yet there are moments when, in perfect solitude, thought will
-return, and tears open wounds afresh. He strove against it, indeed, as
-much as man could strive. He laboured incessantly, more for the
-purpose of occupying his mind with anything but his own dark fate,
-than to render his abode more comfortable; and when in the watches of
-the night he awoke, and thought would return, he tried hard to turn it
-into any other channel than that of memory. Still, in spite of
-himself, the bitter theme would often recur; in vain he tried to
-meditate upon mere abstract questions of art, of science, of
-philosophy; in vain, to fix the mind down to the present and its
-necessities, all gloomy as that present was; still departed happiness,
-and bright hopes blasted, would rise up like spectres, and scare peace
-and tranquillity away.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sometimes he would try to create a feeling of alarm in his own breast
-at the prospect of the coming winter, when in that lonely scene he
-should be left in the midst of snows and tempests, with none of the
-resources of the fruit-tree or the lake; when the wind and the storm
-would rave round his frail dwelling, and the long night would have no
-solace, no occupation, but that of listening to the howling of the
-blast; and he would devote his thoughts and his exertions to provide
-against the coming of the sad season. He went down to the spot where
-the tent of Captain M---- had been pitched, and there found fresh proofs
-of his kindness; for he had left everything that he could possibly spare
-behind him, together with a few words written on a scrap of paper,
-giving his address, and assuring his lonely friend that if at any time
-he could serve him he would do so with pleasure. Then, with fresh
-means and more serviceable tools than the mere hatchet with which he
-had first commenced the work, poor Dudley laboured hard to render his
-dwelling proof against storm or enemy; but the want of nails soon
-presented itself, and he set out for the sea-shore, thinking, &quot;His
-kindness would not forget.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Nor had it; for after a walk of twenty miles, he found not only the
-box which had been promised, but two other presents of equal value--a
-large bag of fresh biscuits, and a ship's hand-lamp surrounded by
-thick glass.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sometimes, as on this occasion, the expedients to which he was forced
-to have recourse, called up a melancholy smile. &quot;Where shall I find
-oil?&quot; he thought, &quot;or any means of nourishing the flame; and yet there
-must be oleaginous shrubs or trees in the neighbourhood, amongst all
-the many children of these vast forests. I must learn many a trade
-before I have done, and must try and construct myself an oil-mill. If
-all fails, I must come down, as the winter approaches, and see if I
-can surprise a seal upon the shore.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As he thus thought, he seated himself and ate one of the biscuits with
-a relish for the plain wheaten food which he had never known before.
-For the last eight or nine days he had tasted nothing but fish or
-flesh; and he now found that bread is indeed the staff of life; for he
-arose lighter and yet more refreshed from his simple meal by the
-sea-shore than he had felt since he commenced his wandering course. He
-then adjusted the burdens he had to carry, so as to render their
-pressure as equal as possible, during his long walk back; and I may
-remark, indeed, that his mathematical studies proved more serviceable
-to him in existing circumstances than he had ever thought possible. He
-had always regarded them as fine abstractions, the principal use of
-which, to a man of the station in which he was born, was to produce a
-habit of correct reasoning; but now, when he came to apply them
-practically; he felt how invaluable they are in every walk of life.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">With his gun under his arm, and laden with a weight of eighty or
-ninety pounds, he walked slowly on his way, still keeping the summit
-of the mountain in view. At first his course lay across an arid tract
-of country, near the sea-shore, producing no vegetation but some thin
-tall stalks of grass, and thickly strewn with small, flat, circular
-fragments of stone, exactly resembling the biscuits he was carrying.
-As the ground rose a little, however, a more prolific soil was
-obtained, and he entered what is called the scrub, where tall trees,
-and bushes, and a thousand fruit and flower-bearing shrubs, surrounded
-him on every side, and often cut off the view of Mount Gambier. Long
-brakes or paths were still to be found through the thicket, however,
-and every now and then, for a mile or two, the vegetation was thinner,
-so that, guiding his course by the sun, and calculating as exactly as
-he could, the distance which both he and the great orb of day had
-travelled, he followed a direct line as far as the nature of the
-ground would permit, and from time to time caught sight of the lofty
-rocks above the crater, over the leafy wilderness around him. Here and
-there, however, came a patch of bright green meadow, and at the edge
-of one of these, before he entered the forest again, he sat down to
-rest himself, and cast the burdens from his shoulders, for the
-fatigues he had lately undergone were very great, and he felt the
-unusual weight he carried. He was dreadfully thirsty too, for he had
-not found a drop of fresh water on the journey, and the heat was
-intense.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In about half an hour, the decline of the sun, and the gradual
-lengthening of the shadows, somewhat cooled the air, and a fresh
-breeze sprang up from sea-ward, agitating the tops of the tall trees.
-Dudley rose to proceed upon his way, for he had still a walk of more
-than two hours before him; and with his gun under his arm, he was
-stooping down to lift his bag of biscuit, when he suddenly heard a
-step. It was that of a man, and was consequently the more ungrateful
-to his ear than if it had been that of a beast, however wild and
-fierce. His gun was instantly in his hand, with both barrels cocked;
-and the next moment, coming at a quick pace out of one of the glades
-in the neighbouring wood, appeared a figure not calculated to
-dissipate any apprehensions. It was that of a man, tall, and
-powerfully built, and of a most unprepossessing countenance. He was
-evidently a European, but yet the colour which his skin had acquired
-by long exposure was almost as dark as that of one of the natives of
-the land. His black hair, of more than six months' growth, fell wild
-over his shoulders and brows, and his beard also had been suffered to
-remain unshorn till it nearly reached his bosom. In this mass of hair,
-which covered his face, the features, which were sharp and aquiline,
-seemed planted as if looking through a mask; and the whole, together
-with the fierce, quick expression, gave the same impression as if one
-suddenly saw a wild beast glaring through a bush. He was covered with
-an old, tattered, brown great coat, and had a belt round his waist,
-and another over his shoulders. In the former were placed a pair of
-pistols; and the latter supported a knapsack, a large gourd in the
-shape of a bottle, and several other articles of a very miscellaneous
-description. He instantly paused on seeing a stranger; and Dudley,
-forgetting that his own appearance was little less wild and strange,
-raised his gun to his shoulder, exclaiming, &quot;Halt, whoever you are!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man instantly advanced a step, crying, with a laugh, &quot;Hail fellow,
-well met! Don't you see I'm not an officer?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;but you must halt nevertheless, till
-I know who you are. Another step, and I fire!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man paused, for he was out of the range of a pistol, but within
-that of a gun, otherwise it is probable a shot would have been the
-first reply.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I tell you I am a poor devil like yourself,&quot; he replied, &quot;who have
-got away from those incarnate fiends at Norfolk Island, have come over
-here, and taken to the bush. I am half-starved, for I have fed upon
-raw parrots as long as I could get any, and have not had a morsel for
-these two days.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That's another case,&quot; said Dudley, dropping his gun from his
-shoulder; &quot;I can help you, and that's enough for me. I have got
-biscuit here; come and have some.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Short parleys and quick intercourse are common in the wilder parts of
-a colony, where every man, having even a glimmering of civilisation,
-depends upon others many times each year for the few advantages of
-society he can ever obtain; Strange it is, that where the violence of
-barbarism is most strong, the charity of hospitality is most frank and
-ready. The stranger advanced at once, thrusting back the pistol he had
-half drawn from his belt, and taking Dudley's hand, he shook it
-warmly, saying, &quot;You must be new to this place. Just arrived from
-Norfolk, I dare say. Come, give us some biscuit, man, for I am right
-down starved.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley opened the bag, and the man thrust his hand in at once, drawing
-out two or three biscuits, which he began to eat voraciously. &quot;That's
-capital!&quot; he said, adding a fearful oath. &quot;After all, there's nothing
-like biscuit. Well, I'm glad you didn't fire, for I'd rather have this
-than lead in my stomach; and it would have cost me a shot in return,
-when, to say the truth, I haven't got one to spare, for I've got no
-powder but the charges in my pistols, and one of those I must save for
-McSweeny. He may take two, perhaps, but I don't think it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And pray who is he?&quot; asked Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, the man that betrayed me once!&quot; replied his companion. &quot;A
-storekeeper I trusted, and he sold me. He killed himself that night,
-and he knows it. So he's only waiting till I've got leisure, then
-we'll settle accounts.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then you mean you'll kill him,&quot; said Dudley, guessing the man's
-meaning, though not very certain.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;To be sure,&quot; answered the other. &quot;He shall go out of the colony one
-day soon. Come, I must have another biscuit.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;As many as you like,&quot; answered Dudley, &quot;and take some with you, if
-you please; but if you've got any water in that bottle, you shall give
-me some, for I am as thirsty as you are hungry.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay, there's water in it, sure enough, now,&quot; replied the other,
-unslinging the gourd and giving it to him. &quot;There was something better
-in it not long ago--real Bengal brandy, but that was gone a great deal
-too soon. Lord! it's just like a dream; how I drank it up; but such as
-it is, you may have it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley assuaged his thirst, and then returned the man the gourd,
-saying, &quot;That is better than brandy, and take my word for it, peace is
-bettor than revenge. Revenge is like that brandy you talk of: you take
-it to assuage a thirst, and it leaves a more consuming thirst than
-ever. From the moment you have had it, a burning will seize upon your
-heart, which nought will ever cool, you will die parched up with crime
-upon crime, without peace in the present, peace in the past, or peace
-in the future.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man gazed at him with a look of utter astonishment. &quot;No, I
-shan't,&quot; he replied. &quot;I shall be hanged. That's my death. I always
-intended it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But did you ever consider,&quot; asked Dudley, &quot;that this life is not all;
-that there is another beyond this world, to which the pains or the
-pleasures of this life are nothing?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Are you a methodist parson, young man?&quot; said the other, knitting his
-brows at him.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;nothing of the kind. I am a plain man, as you
-are, but one who has learned to reverence the will of God; to think of
-the future as well as the present; and to remember in all my actions
-here that they have a reference to a hereafter, in comparison with
-which this life and all that it affords is a mere nothing.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then what the devil brought you here?&quot; asked the other; and after an
-instant's pause, continued, &quot;Well, I have heard of such things as you
-talk of, but it is all guess-work. No dead man ever came back to tell
-me what had happened to him after he was gone. All I see rots as soon
-as it's put in the ground, and the rest's but a chance, or an old
-woman's tale. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush; so I'll
-have my will while I live, and risk all the rest.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Did you ever think how much you risk?&quot; asked Dudley, gravely. &quot;Do you
-know Norfolk Island? Well, suppose for one moment, that all which man
-can be made to suffer there were increased a thousand fold, and
-carried on throughout eternity without the possibility of escape, even
-by death--remember, this is what you risk, and much more.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Pooh! that's nonsense,&quot; answered the man. &quot;No one could stand it.
-Why, sooner than stay there, I stood--one night when they had caught
-me, after I had got off, and had tied my hands with a strong rope--I
-stood, I say, with my back to the fire and my wrists to the flame,
-till the rope was burnt through. There are the marks,&quot; he continued,
-baring his seared and withered arms. &quot;But let us talk of something
-else. If you are not a parson, you talk very like one, and I hate
-parsons. What were you convicted of?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Of killing a man,&quot; answered Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay, that was something worth while,&quot; replied his companion. &quot;I
-thought it had been some larceny, or something like that, by the way
-you talked. But what do you intend to do now? You've run, of course,
-and that's quite right; but it's a hardish sort of life, especially
-out here. I'm half sorry I didn't keep in 'tother island; but they ran
-after me so sharply, than when I got a ship that would take me, which
-was a great chance--she was a whaler that sent her boat on shore--I
-thought it was not worth while to stay. Then I found they had got
-scent of me; and so I've walked six or seven hundred miles altogether,
-rather than go back to the d--d place. They would have put me in a
-chain gang directly, and I have seen such things there I don't want to
-see any more. I dare say I know more of it than you do, for you seem a
-new hand. I'll tell you what I saw once. I saw two men--they were in
-the same gang with myself--toss up with a brass halfpenny, which
-should knock the other's brains out, and be hanged for it afterwards.
-The lot fell upon James Mills, and he did it handsomely, for he
-finished the other fellow, whose name was Ezekiel Barclay, with one
-blow of his pick, and when he was hanged at Hobart Town, he told all
-the people how it had happened, and why he had done it; and many of
-them said, I have heard, that it was a great shame to drive men to
-such a pass--that it was better for one to have his skull smashed, and
-the other his neck twisted, than to live on slaving any longer.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley gave a shudder, so visible, that his hardened companion laughed
-aloud. &quot;Wait a bit, and you'll get accustomed to such things,&quot; he
-said; &quot;but you'll find it more hard to get accustomed to living here.
-I'm beating up towards some more civilised place, I can tell you; I
-have had enough, and too much of this kind of life, and if I find I am
-to be caught, I'll do something to be hanged for when they have caught
-me. It's no use going on in this way for ever--but how did you get
-this biscuit? You've got money, I guess.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not a penny,&quot; answered Dudley, with a smile. &quot;A friend gave me these
-things to help me on.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;A devilish kind friend,&quot; replied the man; &quot;but they won't last long,
-and what will you do after? You're not up to half the tricks, I dare
-say, for living in the scrub; but I can teach you a thing or two, if
-you are going my way, for I must be jogging.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am going to the foot of those hills,&quot; replied Dudley, who felt
-somewhat anxious to make some impression on the man's mind, and turn
-him from the dreadful purpose he seemed to meditate. &quot;If you like to
-come with me, I can give you a night's lodging.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man grinned at him with a very peculiar laugh. &quot;Are you not
-afraid?&quot; he said. &quot;Do you know I'm Jack Brady?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not in the least,&quot; answered Dudley, &quot;We are companions in misfortune,
-and you are not a man, I am sure, whatever you may do, either to wrong
-me or betray me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That's hearty!&quot; said the man, holding out his hand to him, &quot;I would
-not betray you if you had killed my brother; and as to wronging you,
-no man can ever say I harmed him that trusted me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, I do trust you fully,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;I am quite sure of you;
-and my little store, such as it is, you shall share.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps I can tell you things which may be of as much service to
-you,&quot; said the man; &quot;so come along, for it's getting late, and I
-reckon those hills are six miles off or more.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That to the full,&quot; replied Dudley, rising. &quot;I am ready; let us go.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Perhaps he might not feel quite as sure as he said he was; but,
-nevertheless, he reflected that they were but man to man, and life was
-not a thing so valuable in his eyes, to fear the hazard thereof, if he
-could do good.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I'll carry your lantern,&quot; said the man, taking it up as he spoke.
-&quot;Have you got any oil?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;it is that which puzzles me; but I think I
-shall be able to get a seal upon the coast.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! you can manage better than that,&quot; said the other. &quot;I'll show you
-half-a-dozen trees that you can get oil from, and some that have got a
-kind of fat, of which you can make candles. This is a precious place
-for vegetables. Nature has been kind to the place; it's man's done all
-the mischief.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It's the same everywhere,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;let us take care that we
-don't blame ourselves.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There's truth enough in that,&quot; answered Brady; &quot;but come along;
-you'll soon make a famous bushranger, for you'll forget how to preach,
-having nobody to preach to.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It will do me very little good, my friend,&quot; replied Dudley, as they
-walked along, &quot;to preach to you or to anybody, as I am neither paid,
-nor likely to be paid, for doing it; but, depend upon it, if there
-were more to preach, and more to hear, in our penal settlements, they
-would be happier places than they are. Good conduct towards our
-fellow-creatures, and reverence towards God, are the sources of all
-happiness on earth.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I love my fellow-creatures well enough,&quot; said the man, &quot;and would do
-anything to help them. No man can say I ever took a penny from a poor
-man, or injured a weak one. It is against my principles, sir, whatever
-you may think; but many who are here I do not look upon as men at all.
-They are devils in men's bodies, and nothing more. With them I am at
-war, and ever will be; and if a man betrays me, that man dies, if I
-live. There is no use talking about it, for my mind is made up.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He spoke in a stern, determined tone, and his face assumed an
-expression of demoniacal ferocity when he alluded to the fact of being
-betrayed; but it passed away in a moment or two; and, as if he sought
-no farther discussion on a subject in regard to which his resolution
-was taken, he began to look round amongst the trees and shrubs, and at
-length pointed out one to Dudley, saying, &quot;There, you see those little
-berries; well, let them get ripe; they'll turn almost quite black in a
-week or two; and then, if you bruise them between two stones, and put
-them in a kettle over a little fire, you'll have oil enough for your
-purposes. There do not seem to be so many good sorts of trees and
-plants here as on t'other side. Why, there, if it be not a very dry
-year, a man may live for many a month on what he finds growing wild.
-But you'll do very well here, too; and, I dare say, farther in, you
-may find the same sorts of shrubs as over by Port Philip. There's the
-great, long gum-tree, and cypresses, I see, too; but not so many as in
-New South Wales. It's a fine country, however, and I like it better,
-for there are too many men over there. Here there seems to be no one
-but you and I: at least, I have not seen a living soul but one, beside
-yourself, for three hundred miles or more.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Is it not dangerous for a stranger, unacquainted with botany, to feed
-upon the fruits of a land totally new to him?&quot; inquired Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh dear, no!&quot; answered Brady. &quot;Those that have a stone in them you
-may always eat, and most of those that have a hard shell to them. I
-don't speak of beans, you know, for many of them are poisonous enough,
-I believe; but of nuts and such like. But I'll tell you what a man,
-whom I once knew, did, and it wasn't an unclever sort of trick, which,
-if you stay long here, you may practise too. He caught a young
-kangaroo when it was quite little, and bred it up to hop about his
-place like a dog that had lost its fore-legs. Well, whatever he saw
-the kangaroo eat, he knew he might eat too, for they're a sort of
-human creatures, those kangaroos; I never half liked shooting one in
-my life.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley thought how strange that a man, who, for passion or revenge,
-would shed his fellow's blood like water, should feel repugnance to
-kill a mere brute, from a fancied resemblance to the human race. Yet
-such are the inconsistencies of our nature, and we meet with them
-every day.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It's very good eating, though,&quot; continued his companion, &quot;and I dare
-say, man's good eating enough too, at least I've heard one of those
-black fellows say so; but of all things that's the best in this
-country it's the wombat. I should think there must be a good number of
-them about here, for I've seen a great many of their holes.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What is it like?&quot; asked Dudley. &quot;I never met with one.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It's about the size of a badger, and in shape something like a large
-rat,&quot; replied Brady; &quot;but when, he's roasted, he's for all the world
-like a young pig; you'd hardly know the difference if it wasn't he's
-not quite so fat. The first time you see a hole with fresh tracks
-going in, you dig the fellow out and roast him, and you'll thank me
-for as good a dinner as ever you had in your life. He bites foully,
-though, I can tell you, so take care of your hands.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I must lay up some store of provisions for the winter,&quot; replied
-Dudley; &quot;but how to preserve them I do not know, unless I dig a
-saltpan by the Sea.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Pooh, nonsense!&quot; answered the man, &quot;you'll find plenty of salt-pans
-ready made. There's too much of that commodity about. I can't say it's
-very good, for there's mostly something bitter mixed with it; but one
-must not be dainty in these countries. If you look about, you'll find
-many a hole of twenty acres or more, with the salt as hard upon the
-top as ice. And you have nothing to do but to cut yourself a little
-tank out of the coral limestone, and make a pickling-pan of it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That would be a laborious business, I'm afraid,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;for
-which I have not proper tools.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Lord bless you! you can cut it like cheese,&quot; replied the bushranger.
-&quot;Then you've nothing to do but to let it stand out in the air for a
-little while, and it grows as hard as flint. Why, the man that I was
-talking about, that I saw between this and Adelaide, has built himself
-quite a house of it, and all with his own hands.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As he spoke, they came to the top of a little rising ground, from
-which the land sloped away with very gentle undulations for five or
-six miles. Mount Shanck, with its truncated cone, and Mount Gambier,
-with its peaky summits, were both within sight; while to the eastward,
-over a wild extent of scrub, the blue tops of some distant hills were
-seen, and the ground below, between them and the foot of Gambier, was
-wonderfully and beautifully varied with wide spaces of rich green
-pasture, and manifold clumps and small woods of gigantic shadowy
-trees, the long shadows of which fell upon the verdant meadows as if
-thrown upon green velvet.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, that's mighty pretty!&quot; cried the bushranger, as he and Dudley
-stopped to gaze. &quot;It puts me in mind of England--doesn't it you? It's
-for all the world like some great gentleman's park, isn't it now? It's
-a fine place that England, any how. I've never seen anything like it;
-d--n them for sending me out of it, I say!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What a vast variety of different kinds of vegetation!&quot; said Dudley.
-&quot;What are those dark, gloomy-looking trees there, to the eastward?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That's what they call the tea-tree,&quot; answered his companion; &quot;bad
-enough tea it would make, however; and this one here, under which we
-are standing--heaven knows how high it is, for it seems as if it were
-looking after the clouds up there--they call the stringy bark, and
-those just below us are the blackwood trees. Those fellows that you
-see out in the meadows, with their little leaves all strung upon a
-stalk, they call mimosas here--I don't know what their right name is;
-but what's better than all, I see you've got lots of juniper here: all
-those bushes that you see; and when their berries are ripe, if you
-could but get some molasses, or maize, or anything of that kind, and
-make a still out of an old kettle, you could brew yourself some
-capital gin, and be as merry as a king.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Without subjects,&quot; said Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;All the merrier for that,&quot; answered the bushranger. &quot;I had never a
-fancy for pig-driving; and ruling a lot of men, every one of whom has
-his own fancy, must be as bad or worse. Well, it is a beautiful
-country, surely; and I think one might live very comfortably here, if
-it was not for that roving spirit one gets. Perhaps one might turn
-better too, if the folks would but let one; but that's impossible in
-this country. I was bad enough when I came here, but I'm ten times
-worse now, and shall be worse every day till I'm hanged.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Did you ever try to be better?&quot; asked Dudley. &quot;Depend upon it you
-would find it to your advantage.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It's no use,&quot; answered the man, &quot;and that you may find some day to
-your own cost. You've done quite right to come away to a place where
-there are no other white people but yourself; but they'll find you out
-here in time; and if I were to stay here, they would hunt me out soon
-enough, and have me down to a chain gang, and drive me madder than I
-am. My only safety is in moving about, and then it's difficult to
-track me. You might as well expect devils to get good as the people in
-this colony; for if they wanted, there are other devils put on purpose
-to prevent them. But let us talk about the place, and not the people.
-I hate that sort of thing.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">During the latter part of this conversation they had descended slowly
-through the beautiful country before them, passing under various kinds
-of trees, with the evening chirp of the cicada spreading a melancholy
-murmur through the air, and multitudes of black and white cockatoos
-whirling round in the air, and parroquets of every kind and colour
-moving about amongst the branches. From amongst the long thick grass
-at the foot of the descent a tall emu started up, and galloped away
-upon its long legs across the plains. Every now and then they came
-upon a thicket covered with beautiful flowers, and they found the bank
-of a little stream gemmed with the Murray lily, and clothed in
-different places with a shrub bearing small purple bells. The
-ice-plant, too, was seen here and there; and had but the mind been at
-ease, few things more delightful could be found on earth than a ramble
-through that lovely scene. The spirit of peace and bounty seemed to
-pervade it all, and a forcible line of a rash but beautiful poet
-recurred to Dudley's mind,</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And all but the image of God is divine.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Nevertheless, the impression of all that beauty and the calm spirit
-which it seemed to give forth, was not without effect even upon his
-rude companion. He walked on in silence for some way, gazing around
-him on every side, and at length he said--</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I believe one does not half know how beautiful the country is when
-one's living in towns. I often think it would be better if people
-didn't live in towns at all, for you see one gets to like all sorts of
-things one doesn't care for in the country.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Doubtless there are many more temptations in towns,&quot; replied Dudley;
-&quot;and what is worse than all, less opportunity for a man to commune
-quietly with his own thoughts; for I am quite sure, that if a person
-did so always, before he acts, there would not be half the harm done
-that takes place in the world. The opportunity of doing so is a great
-blessing, and the habit of so doing a greater blessing still.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am not quite sure that that's the right cause of mischief,&quot;
-answered the bushranger. &quot;Men seldom do things all at once. It's bit
-by bit a man gets on. If a man goes into a house and takes a glass of
-gin or brandy, as the case may be, it is not to get drunk, and he'd
-most likely do the same if he'd an hour to think of it. It is just to
-keep his spirits up when they're inclined to get low; then he finds a
-friend there, and he takes another glass; and then, while they are
-talking, another, till glass after glass goes into his mouth, and then
-to his head, and then nobody knows what happens. It's the same with
-other things too. It's all bit by bit; besides, I believe the devil is
-in some people: in me, perhaps. I dare say you think so. Now, there
-are the savage people here: the natives, as they call them; if the
-devil isn't in them, I don't know what is. They've never had any
-teaching, and yet they'll do such things as you've no notion of. I've
-seen them pick a man's pocket with their toes as cleverly as any prig
-in all London with his hands; and they'll throw those long spears of
-theirs right into your back, at such a distance that you'd think they
-couldn't hit a mountain. Then, as for their devilish tricks, they'll
-kill a man for his fat just as the settlers do a bullock for its
-tallow, and smear themselves all over with it, and then put red ochre
-on the top of that. You must keep a sharp look out for them, for
-there's no trusting them, and there's a whole heap of them not far
-from here, especially the people they call the Milmenduras, great,
-tall fellows, with curly hair; and there are the Fatayaries, too, but
-I don't think they're so bad as the others. I saw some of their
-wirlies as I came along. They're terrible savages, to be sure, and the
-only way to keep clear of them is to make them think that you're what
-they call a 'Mooldthorpe,' a sort of devil--that's what they think of
-me, and they don't touch me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I would rather make them think me an angel of good than an angel of
-evil,&quot; answered Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man laughed aloud. &quot;They'd kill ye, and eat ye, for all that,&quot; he
-answered. &quot;They think, what the officers fancy we think, that it's
-only worth while minding those who torment or punish us. They care
-nothing about spirits of good. It's the spirits of evil they care
-about. Look there, there's one of them looking out now by that little
-wood! Let's keep clear of his spear; no, it's a kangaroo, upon my
-life! See how he goes hopping off, thirty feet at a jump, and yet
-sometimes the wild dogs will catch them, jump as wide as they will, as
-those dogs in the colony will catch me before I've done, let me roam
-far or near. I know it's my luck, and so I may as well have my will
-for a while.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">This was not exactly the sort of conclusion to which Dudley had hoped
-to lead him. He thought he discovered some small portion of good
-amidst the great mass of evil in the man's nature; but he knew not how
-difficult it is to eradicate weeds which have grown up, year after
-year, even in a soil which might have been made at one time prolific
-of other things. Neither had he sufficient experience of such
-characters to be aware of the best means of planting better thoughts.
-Whenever he attempted to do so, his companion flew away from the
-subject, resolved not to hear, and they had reached the foot of Mount
-Gambier without the least progress having been made. As Dudley began
-to climb the hill, however, the bushranger exclaimed, &quot;Why, you don't
-live up there, do you?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, indeed I do, at the very top,&quot; replied Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! then hang me if I go any farther,&quot; answered Brady. &quot;I'm tired,
-and getting sleepy, and I don't want to add a great bit to my walk off
-to-morrow. It's full forty miles to Mr. Norries's place, where I
-intend to sleep. The day after, I dare say I can steal a horse.
-There's one, I know, at Pringle's sheep farm, and that'll carry me
-into the bush near Adelaide. It'll be three weeks before I reach it, I
-dare say, so if you'll give me a day or two's biscuit, I'll thank
-you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;With all my heart,&quot; answered Dudley, who had by this time given up
-all hope of making an impression on his companion. &quot;You had better
-take a good stock, as you've such a long way to go.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; answered Brady, &quot;there's no use a-lumbering one's self. I'll
-have a dozen; that's enough for three days, at four a day, and before
-I've eaten them, perhaps I may be as dead as a sheep; besides, Mr.
-Norries will feed me to-morrow, and I'll make Pringle feed me the day
-after.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And who is this Mr. Norries?&quot; asked Dudley, somewhat struck by the
-name. &quot;Is he a runaway convict, like ourselves?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He's a convict, sure enough,&quot; answered Brady; &quot;but at the end of the
-first year, he got indulgence, as they call it, for good behaviour and
-helping the governor's secretary at a pinch. Besides, though he's
-condemned for life, what he did wasn't very bad after all. He was a
-sort of lawyer, you see, and got into a terrible row, as what they
-call a Chartist. Devil take me if I know rightly what that means!
-There were no Chartists in England when I set out on my travels. But,
-however, he was cast, and sent out to Hobart Town, which he reached
-just as I started off, a good many months ago. I recollect hearing
-they were all very civil to him, for they do make distinctions out
-here, let them say what they will.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley listened with eager attention, hesitating not a little as to
-how he should act in consequence of the unexpected information he had
-just received. A thirst for some companionship was upon him. To know
-that a well-educated and intelligent, though misguided man, was within
-what seemed, in that wild and thinly-peopled tract, but a short
-distance, gave him a strong desire to open some communication with
-him, and curiosity as to many events in the past rendered that desire
-almost irresistible. Yet he doubted and feared, for the idea of being
-betrayed and carried back to the bondage from which he escaped, was
-terrible to him. After much hesitation, then, he sent a brief and not
-very distinct message to Norries by his lawless companion, proposing
-to watch all the better against surprise thenceforward. &quot;Tell Mr.
-Norries,&quot; he said, &quot;that there is a person living here who knew
-something of him in former days, and whom he last saw about the time
-when he was planning those schemes which turned out so ill.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You would not like to tell your name, I suppose?&quot; asked Brady.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, that is not necessary,&quot; replied Dudley. &quot;If he guesses, well; if
-not, it does not matter.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, I think you must give me a couple of charges of powder for my
-pains,&quot; replied the bushranger.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Willingly,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;and some small-shot too. I have no
-bullets with me but what are in the gun.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That'll do--that'll do,&quot; was the reply. And having received the gift,
-the wild and lawless man shook hands with his unfortunate companion,
-and saying that he should look out for some low tree to sleep in, he
-left him to pursue his way towards his solitary dwelling on the
-mountain-top.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXXI.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">Thought, we are told by some authors, is the high and characteristic
-privilege of man. The truth of the axiom is not universally admitted,
-and even if it were so, I can only say that, like many other high and
-characteristic privileges, thought may become very burdensome, if its
-exercise is constantly enforced. I cannot help believing that the
-Arabian fabulist, when he represented Sinbad the sailor cast upon a
-desert island, and persecuted by an old man, who, once having got upon
-his shoulders, could never be thrown off again till he was made drunk,
-intended to allegorize the fate of one condemned to solitary thought,
-and perhaps, to point out the only means he saw of obtaining
-deliverance from its oppressive dominion.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Left once more alone, Dudley could not refrain from thinking over and
-comparing the words and actions of the two men who had been his only
-visitors in that solitary place, and he certainly felt none of that
-regret that the last of the two had left him, which he had experienced
-on the departure of the first. The very fact, however, of their having
-come at all was at first a source of some apprehension to him. He had
-sought out a place of refuge where he thought the foot of man had
-never trod, nor ever was likely to tread, at least for many long
-years; and now, within one week, two strangers, either of whom might
-betray the secret of where he sojourned, had found him, and conversed
-with him. How many more might be led thither, by accident or
-curiosity, or in the pursuit of gain, or from any of the many motives
-which lead man to wander and to explore? It was a question which
-startled him, and as I have said, he felt apprehension and regret at
-first; but those sensations gradually wore away, as day after day, and
-hour after hour gave him more and more up to the weariness of thought.
-To provide for the wants of the day or of the future, to complete his
-shelter from storm and tempest, to frame from the rock, or from the
-clay, or from the trunk of the cedar, or the oak, the tools and
-utensils of which he had need, did not afford sufficient occupation to
-engross his mind entirely throughout any one day. When he was fishing
-in the lake, when he was watching for the passing of game, when he was
-hewing out cisterns from the rock, or breaking with his axe the hard
-crust of the salt-pool, thought would still press heavily upon him,
-and daily it became more heavy and dark. To hear the tones of the
-sweet human voice, to tell the feelings, or give utterance to the
-fancies of his own breast, seemed each moment a privilege more to be
-coveted, and he felt bitterly that man is made for society, and that
-utter solitude is utter desolation.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A month passed after he had met with Brady without his seeing one
-single human being, without his ever hearing the tones of even his own
-voice; and the effect upon his mind may be understood when I say, that
-at length, before kneeling down to pray, he murmured, &quot;I will say my
-prayers aloud, for fear I lose the use of speech.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">But even that was not a relief; and darker and darker grew his
-meditations as the leaves became a little brown, and the grass assumed
-a yellow tinge, and the flowers gave place everywhere to the berries
-in the wood, and the sun rose later, and set earlier; till at length
-he could bear it no longer, and he said, &quot;I will go out and seek this
-Norries; for I believe if I remain longer here, given up altogether to
-the bitter contemplation of the past and the future, my brain will
-turn, and I shall go mad.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">With his gun upon his shoulder, then, his powder-horn, his shot-belt,
-and a large wallet of skin, containing his provision of biscuit, by
-his side, he set out early in the morning, directing his course
-according to the information he had received from the bushranger. The
-air was fresh and cool, and here and there a faint star might still be
-seen in the sky, &quot;paling its ineffectual fires&quot; at the approach of the
-sun. For three hours he walked on lightly and with ease; but then the
-heat began to have effect, and before another hour was over the sun
-beat fiercely on his head, so that he was glad to sit down beneath the
-shade of a tall, solitary tree, where the wind from the ocean, the
-roar of which he heard not far off, could come to refresh him. He felt
-how terrible it must be to cross, in the summer season, any of those
-wide, arid deserts which form a considerable portion of New Holland,
-and one of which he knew lay close to the east of the fertile tract in
-which he had fixed his dwelling. There, for seventy or eighty miles,
-extend limestone hills without grass, or tree, or water; not a herb,
-not a shrub, not a living thing, if it be not the lizard or the
-scorpion, is to be seen throughout the whole tract; and as he looked
-to the south-east, and saw a yellow, reddish streak extending across
-the distance, and resting with a hard edge upon the sky at the
-horizon, he thought, &quot;I must take care not to involve myself in such a
-wilderness as that. To die of thirst must be a fearful death;&quot; and
-instinctively he rose, and walked on towards a spot in the plain where
-the grass seemed somewhat greener, and the trees in more luxuriant
-foliage than the rest.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He found, as he expected, a little stream, somewhat shrunk, indeed, by
-the late heats, but still containing plenty of clear and beautiful
-water; and wading through some reeds upon the bank under a fringe of
-large trees, he was going to fill a gourd which he had dried, when
-suddenly a number of birds, of the duck species, rose up close to him,
-and putting his gun to his shoulder, he fired, and brought down two
-with one shot. They were beautiful birds, of a jetty black colour, and
-seemed fat and well-conditioned; and he laid them down on the bank,
-and then went in again to fill his gourd. When he came back he found a
-large snake, with its head raised, and its tongue darting in and out,
-hissing at the dead birds, as if hardly comprehending how they lay so
-still. The reptile did not seem to hear his approach, and he killed it
-easily with the stock of his gun, saying somewhat bitterly,
-&quot;Slaughter, slaughter! It is all warfare, this life; defensive against
-the strong, offensive against the weak. It is a strange state of
-being!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Almost at the same moment a loud shout met his ear, and he charged his
-gun again hastily, suspecting that the cry might come from some of the
-wild natives. He listened attentively, and shortly after heard a sound
-amongst the bushes farther up the stream. But he had often been told
-that such is the stealthy skill of the savage that, in creeping upon
-his face, he does not disturb the foliage more than a light wind, and
-here it was evident that the person who approached was taking no pains
-to conceal his advance, dashing through the brushwood with a hasty
-step, and seeming rather to court than avoid observation.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Can it be some one in pursuit of me?&quot; thought Dudley; but the next
-moment a voice shouted aloud in English, &quot;Who was that firing?&quot; and
-after pausing a moment the figure of Mr. Norries, with a gun in his
-hand, and two dogs following him, came forth from the bushes, and
-stood to gaze under one of the large detached trees. His eyes
-instantly fell upon Dudley, but that gentleman's appearance was so
-much altered that Norries did not recognise him at first, and cocking
-his gun, advanced cautiously, with his broad brow furrowed with a
-doubtful and inquiring frown. He himself was well dressed after the
-colonial fashion, in a large straw hat, light linen shooting-jacket,
-and cotton trousers; and certainly Dudley's appearance was somewhat
-strange and Robinson Crusoe-like; the greater part of his dress being
-composed of the skin of the kangaroo, and the cap upon his head,
-though formed of lighter materials, being of his own manufacture from
-the inner bark of some of the trees which he had cut down. The next
-instant, however, Norries seemed suddenly to recognise him, and
-placing his gun under his arm again, came straight across the stream
-to meet him.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! Mr. Dudley! I am glad I have met you,&quot; he said. &quot;I intended to
-come and find you out as soon as the weather was a little cooler; for
-that infernal villain, Brady, told me there was an Englishman who knew
-me living on Mount Gambier, and I was sure it was you from his
-description.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I told him to tell you,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;though I did not choose to
-give him my name, not that I believe he would betray me or any one,
-for there is, I think, some good in the man; and I am much obliged to
-him for having remembered my message.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Betray you he certainly would not,&quot; answered Norries; &quot;for that was
-not one of his vices; and he punished it bitterly enough when he found
-it in others. You heard what he did after he left me?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have heard nothing since I saw him,&quot; answered Dudley. &quot;But you
-speak as if the man were dead.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! he is hanged by this time,&quot; answered Norries. &quot;The day after he
-quitted my house he stole a horse at Pringle sheep-run, and then rode
-straight on night and day, I believe, to take revenge upon a man as
-bad or worse than himself, who kept what they call a store. The
-fellow's name was McSweeny; and it seems he had given this man Brady
-up to justice. He was sitting quietly in his cabin, drinking with an
-old man and a lad, about nine o'clock at night, when Brady presented
-himself at the door. Few words passed between them, for Brady's
-salutation was only 'McSweeny, I want you.' He had a pistol cocked in
-his hand, but McSweeny walked out doggedly and asked, 'What do you
-want, Brady?' 'I give you five minutes to say your prayers,' replied
-the ruffian. 'I don't want five, nor one,' answered McSweeny. 'I'm not
-given to prayers; and as I've lived I'll die.' There were no more
-words passed, but a shot was fired; and when they ran out from the
-house they found McSweeny, with his brains blown out, and lying before
-his own door. The whole country was in arms after the murderer, and
-the last news I heard was that he had been caught and sent to Hobart
-Town, where he has been hanged ere this time, as he both desired and
-deserved. But let us dismiss such a person from our thoughts, Mr.
-Dudley. In intellectual being, as in mere animal existence, there are
-various classes and dignities, according as he is ranged in which, we
-value the individual. Who minds seeing a serpent swallow a lizard, or
-a chameleon suck in a gnat? The existences which perish are so small
-as not to be worth the counting; and this man's being was even less,
-for all that was not contemptible was noxious. I gave him food when he
-wanted it, and shelter. The utmost extent to which his gratitude
-carried him was not to rob me when he went away. Let us talk of other
-things. You will, doubtless, soon return to your own country. I never
-shall.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The whole of his companion's manner, tone, and language surprised
-Dudley not a little. There was an elevation in it, a sense of dignity
-which he might have concluded would have been totally extinguished by
-a criminal conviction; but Dudley had not read the character of
-Norries quite aright. There are men, and he was one of them, who,
-taking to their heart some great principle, religious, moral, or
-political, have their reward, their encouragement, and their
-consolation in following its dictates, and seeking by any means to
-attain the objects which it sets before them. They build a pyramid of
-thought, and its vastness sinks every other thing into vain
-insignificance. I have already shown the principles which Norries had
-adopted, and the objects that he sought; and let it not be supposed
-that, because sometimes he did seek those objects by means that his
-own heart condemned, he had any motives of personal ambition, any
-dreams of individual greatness in the future to gratify. With a
-mistake, not at all uncommon in politics as well as in religion, he
-fancied that the end not only justified the means, but dignified it.
-Nay, more; he felt proud of every sacrifice which he made for the one
-great principle. The sacrifice of wealth, of station, of profession,
-of friendship, of prejudices or opinions, of liberty, ay, of life
-itself, were all in his eyes honourable, if incurred in the pursuit of
-his grand object. To be branded as a felon, to be sent forth from his
-native country as a convict, ay, to work as a slave, had it been
-required as a consequence of his assertion of his wild notions of
-liberty, would have only added to his personal dignity in his own
-eyes, and to the dignity of the cause for which he suffered.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley had never met with a political fanatic before; and though he
-soon learned to comprehend his companion's feelings, it at first
-struck him as somewhat surprising to find his manner prouder, and his
-tone more elevated, as a convict in a distant land, than they had
-appeared when free in his own country. In answer to his last words,
-however--words which puzzled him as much as the manner in which they
-were spoken, he replied, &quot;There is no probability, Mr. Norries, of my
-ever returning to my own land. Perhaps you are unaware, that for an
-offence in which I had no share, I was condemned to transportation for
-life. Indignant and disgusted, indeed, by the scene to which I was
-transferred, the cruel tyranny on one part, and the wickedness and
-vice on the other, I contrived to escape, and made my way hither,
-concealed on board a whaler, and I must therefore request you to
-mention to no one that you have seen me. I find, indeed, that of all
-punishments one of the most terrible is solitude; and I was on my way
-to visit you, even for a day's relief, when I met you here. But there
-is no chance whatsoever of my even attempting to revisit England.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Norries smiled. &quot;Magna est veritas, et prevalebit,&quot; he replied. &quot;You
-are innocent, and you will be proved innocent. I was guilty, as far as
-bad laws can make men guilty who strive against oppression. I denied
-not the splendid crime they imputed to me, and here I stand, glorying
-in it. Here I will remain, too, for ever, seeing new nations rise up
-around me, and trying to give such a direction to their energies while
-yet in infancy, that in their manhood they shall root out the very
-name of oppression from their land, and every man be free, and
-virtuous in his freedom. I thought it no shame, indeed, as the
-patriarch Joseph by his wisdom won favour with those to whom he was
-sold in bondage, to render myself useful to my taskmasters, and thus
-to get my hand withdrawn from the bonds I could not break; but with
-England I have done for ever. Twice have I struggled for her freedom,
-twice have those who should have supported me fled at the first note
-of danger. I will see what a new race will do. But as you are so far
-on your way to my dwelling, Mr. Dudley, either come on with me, or I
-will go back with you. But no; it were better you should come on, for
-I have much to talk to you about, and something to give you. Do you
-not remember I promised you some papers? They are lodged in safe
-hands, and you shall have them yet. The two most important I have with
-me here.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;How did you contrive to preserve them?&quot; asked Dudley. &quot;Me they
-stripped of everything.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There were ways and means,&quot; replied Norries.--&quot;Sometimes in the sole
-of my shoe, sometimes in the lining of my coat, they were concealed,
-but at all events they are safe, and shall be yours. The others are
-left at Clive's house, and will be given to you on your return.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Do not, do not, Mr. Norries,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;try to nourish hopes
-in me which may--nay, which must--be disappointed. All that could be
-done to save me from disgrace and infliction was done at my trial.
-Every evidence that could be brought forward was adduced in my favour,
-and nothing that poor Edgar Adelon could do was left undone. My
-counsel, too, were the first in the land, and I am bound to admit, as
-one educated in the study of the law, that setting aside all
-consideration of my character, and sentiments, of which neither judge
-nor jury could know much, there was sufficient to convict me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And yet you were innocent,&quot; answered Norries. &quot;That should show you,
-Mr. Dudley, what sort of things laws are. Edgar Adelon did all that he
-could, indeed; and I helped him to the best of my power, though I was
-unable to move from the wounds I had received. But all that good kind
-youth's efforts were in vain, and would have been fruitless even if he
-had succeeded in finding the men he sought. I spoke with them
-afterwards, and neither of them ever saw you on that fatal night, so
-that they could prove nothing. All his labour served but two ends: to
-bring me hither; for it was through his inquiries for me that others
-were led to the place of my retreat; and secondly, to open his own
-eyes to the true character of the viper who has poisoned your
-existence he thinks, for ever.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Whom do you mean?&quot; asked Dudley, eagerly; &quot;I know no one who failed
-to do anything that was possible to serve me. Sir Arthur Adelon, it is
-true, was absent for a strange length of time; but still, all that he
-did, probably all he could do, was kind and generous. Do you mean
-him?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No!&quot; answered Norries, somewhat sternly, &quot;I do not. He was bound in
-chains of fear; and in the end he would have risked something perhaps;
-but it was then too late. No; I mean the man who contrived the whole
-accusation, who gave it probability, who removed the proofs of
-innocence, who quietly, and calmly, and deliberately, drew toils
-around you from which you could not escape, and then left the dogs of
-the law to worry you at their pleasure.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;This is very strange!&quot; exclaimed Dudley; &quot;I have had no suspicion of
-such practices. Do you mean to say I have been made the victim of a
-conspiracy?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; replied Norries, &quot;for a conspiracy implies many acting for an
-end of which they are conscious. Here there was but one, guiding
-others who were unconscious of the end for which he strove. Sir Arthur
-Adelon, himself, was but one of the tools.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Can you mean Filmer?&quot; asked Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay, even so,&quot; answered Norries; &quot;but come on to my house, and I will
-tell you all about it; for not being taken till the assizes were over,
-I was long in prison, and there I learned many facts which, skilfully
-put together, developed the whole scheme.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Had we not better rest here till the heat of the day is passed?&quot;
-asked Dudley. &quot;We have fresh water here; and I have a few biscuits. We
-can get fish out of the river, too, and broil them speedily.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Norries smiled. &quot;How soon,&quot; he said, &quot;man habituates himself to
-circumstances. What would you have said to such fare two years ago,
-Mr. Dudley? Hard biscuit, coarse bream, and cold water! But I can
-treat you better, and can show you a road which, sheltered by tall
-trees, never feels the sun except for about half a mile, and which,
-open to the sea, catches every breeze that blows. There is a little
-lake, too, on the way, and I have got a canoe upon the lake, in which
-we can skim easily across, saving many miles of toil. Let us bring
-these birds with us; they will add to our evening meal, for their
-flesh is as good as their plumage is beautiful;&quot; and taking up the
-ducks by the feet, he walked on up the stream, with Dudley following,
-buried in meditation upon all he had lately heard.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXXII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">There was a ball at the Government House at Hobart Town, and although,
-perhaps, had any one possessed the wishing carpet of the eastern
-prince, and sailed, in the twinkling of an eye, from Paris or St.
-James's, to the shores of Van Dieman's Land, they might have seen in
-the assembly dresses which were at least twelve months behind the
-fashion, and hair dressed after an exploded mode, yet it was,
-nevertheless, a very gay and interesting sight, and people seemed to
-be enjoying themselves as much as if the saloons had been those of a
-king's palace, and everybody present had been lords and ladies. A
-great deal of taste had been shown in the decorations; the company
-comprised the elite of the inhabitants; and although, as is usual in a
-colony--I might almost say invariable--the government officers and the
-government officers' wives, were not without envy, hatred, malice, and
-all uncharitableness towards each other, yet the carping and
-censorious spirit which would have full indulgence a few hours after,
-was restrained for the time, and nothing could be more civil and
-courteous than Mrs. So-and-so was to Mrs. So-and-so, or the Attorney
-General to the Colonial Treasurer.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There was a great number of young and very pretty women present,
-looking like the fairest blossoms amongst the wilderness of flowering
-shrubs with which the rooms were decorated; but it might be observed
-that many of the youngest and the prettiest turned their eyes from
-time to time to one spot in the room more frequently than they did to
-any other. That spot, it is true, was not very far distant from the
-position assumed by the Governor himself; but yet it is probable it
-was not at the Governor they were looking, for he was a grave, elderly
-gentleman, of no great attractions, and about two yards from him there
-stood a young gentleman of much more captivating appearance. He seemed
-to be hardly one-and-twenty years of age, slight in form, but very
-handsome in features, with the light hair waving in beautiful glossy
-curls round his brow, and a good deal of whisker also strongly curled
-upon his cheeks. He was dressed in the height of the English fashion
-at the time; and certainly no person on all the earth, not even a
-Parisian lady, is dressed so well, and with such good taste, as a
-high-bred English gentleman. The plain black coat fitting to
-perfection, but light and perfectly easy, the snowy white waistcoat,
-the shirt, of extraordinary fineness, as pure as driven snow, the
-plain wristband turned back over the cuff, the beautifully-made gloves
-and boots, and withal that air of ease and grace which, if not a part
-of the dress, except metaphorically, gives value to the whole, at once
-distinguished that young man from all the rest, and pointed him out as
-one of the marked in the capital of nations. There was also something
-in the expression of his countenance, as well as in his general air,
-which was calculated to attract attention. There was a quick, bright,
-remarking glance of his eye, as it fixed upon the door by which
-visitors entered, that might speak a keen and intelligent spirit, if
-not some eager and anxious object at the moment; and the slight bend
-between the eye-brows on the fair broad brow, as well as the firm
-setting together of the teeth and beautifully chiselled lips, seemed
-to imply to the one or two physiognomists in the room, a character of
-rapid decision and determined perseverance. Had it not been for that
-expression, with features so fine, and a skin so fair and delicate,
-the face would have been almost too feminine.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">To this young stranger--for he was quite new to the colony--the
-Governor from time to time introduced some of the most distinguished
-of his guests; and he spoke to them gravely, but courteously, with a
-sort of flashing and fanciful wit, which seemed so natural and easy
-to him as not even to produce a smile on his own lip, at that which
-called a laugh from others. In fact, it was but the expression of the
-thoughts which whatever was said to him aroused, done without effort
-and without object.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">At length another gentleman entered the room, dressed much in the same
-style as himself, and bearing with him the same air of gentlemanly
-ease. He advanced straight to the Governor, shook hands with him as an
-old friend, and was then turning away--for it seemed, from some after
-conversation, that they had had a long conference in the morning; but
-the representative of the crown stopped the new comer, saying,
-&quot;Captain M----, I must introduce you to a young friend who arrived in
-the Cambria yesterday. He is travelling for pleasure and information,
-he tells me; and though the amount to be derived here is, I believe,
-not very great, and this is somewhat a strange place to seek it in,
-yet I am anxious that any we can afford should be given to him, and I
-know none so able to give it as yourself. Mr. Adelon, allow me to
-introduce my friend Captain M----, whose objects in visiting this and
-the neighbouring colonies are somewhat like to your own, only he has
-the advantage of having been some months before you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar Adelon held out his hand to his new acquaintance, saying, &quot;I
-have had the pleasure of hearing much of you, Captain M----. Some of
-the gentlemen whom we took up at the Cape, and especially the surgeon,
-were well acquainted with your labours of benevolence. I trust you
-will grant me the pleasure of your acquaintance.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Captain M---- had been gazing at him with a look of much interest, but
-perhaps a little too attentively to be quite courteous. He replied,
-however, &quot;Anything I can do to serve or to assist you I shall be most
-happy to perform. I have heard of your family, I imagine. You are Mr.
-Adelon, of Brandon, I believe?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;My father has lived at Brandon for some years,&quot; replied Edgar; &quot;but
-it belongs to my cousin, to whom he is guardian. Our own place is
-Overbridge, in Yorkshire.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Is your father at Brandon now?&quot; inquired Captain M----.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; replied Edgar; &quot;he is a great way off. My cousin's health
-required change of air, and he has been wandering with her far and
-wide. The last letter I had from them was dated Jerusalem.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then I suppose you did not accompany them?&quot; said the Governor; &quot;yet I
-should have thought, Mr. Adelon, much more, both of pleasure and
-information, might have been derived from such a tour as that which
-they took, than from a long, dull voyage to Van Dieman's Land.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Some people prefer soda-water, some champagne,&quot; answered Edgar, with
-a smile. &quot;Business, to me of deep interest, kept me in England, at the
-period of their departure; some accidental circumstances pointed my
-inclination this way; and in three days after I had formed my
-resolution I was upon the water. The voyage was dull enough, I will
-admit; but I hope, sir, that I have now cracked the nut and come to
-the kernel.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I think that your father's name is Edgar,&quot; said Captain M----,
-returning to his questions, not without an object: &quot;Mr. Edgar Adelon,
-if I mistake not?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; replied the young gentleman, &quot;that is my misfortune and his
-fault. His name is Sir Arthur Adelon, but he had me christened Edgar,
-I am sorry to say.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not see why you should be sorry,&quot; rejoined the Governor; &quot;it is
-a good and well-sounding name enough.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There are some people, my dear Sir George,&quot; answered Edgar, &quot;who are
-deeply read in history, and who naturally confound me with Edgar
-Atheling, giving me an historical value which I do not yet possess. It
-is true the worthy gentleman they take me for has been dead hard upon
-a thousand years; but people's wits now move by railroad as well as
-their bodies, and they have not time to stop for such trifles as that.
-A thousand years are nothing to them; and a lady the other day entered
-with me at large into that part of my family history; evidently
-thinking that if I was not actually the man himself, he must at least
-have been my uncle. I very humbly begged pardon for correcting her,
-but assured her that the relationship was not so close as she thought.
-She said it was all the same so there was a relationship, and upon
-that score I referred her to my father, who believes it, though I do
-not.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">At that moment there came another call upon the Governor's attention,
-and Captain M---- and Edgar were left standing alone together. &quot;I am
-afraid, Mr. Adelon,&quot; said the former; &quot;you have thought my questions
-very impertinent, but I had a motive.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;All men have, I believe,&quot; answered Edgar; &quot;and it is as likely,
-Captain M----, that you have thought my answers impertinent likewise.
-But I, too, had a motive, which, perhaps, when we know each other
-better, I may trouble you with. I have been somewhat vexed, too, and
-disappointed since I came here, and do not altogether wish the
-Governor, though an excellent man, I believe, to see into my feelings
-or my views.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Disappointed already!&quot; said Captain M----; &quot;that is very soon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;True,&quot; answered Edgar; &quot;but still it is so. Disappointed, not
-baffled; for my motive in coming was too strong to suffer me easily to
-give up the pursuit of my object. You see I am frank with you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And I will be frank with you, Mr. Adelon,&quot; said Captain M----, in a
-low voice. &quot;The fact is, I have a letter for you, and I wished to be
-certain that you were the person to whom it is addressed.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;For me!&quot; exclaimed Edgar, eagerly. &quot;Who is it from?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I must give you a strange answer,&quot; replied Captain M----. &quot;It is from
-the Nameless Fisherman by the Nameless Lake.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is no information,&quot; replied Edgar. &quot;Have you got it here? Could
-we not go into another room?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have it here in Hobart Town,&quot; replied Captain M----; &quot;but I
-certainly did not bring it to the Government House with me. You must
-have a little patience, my dear sir. I will bring the letter to you
-to-morrow; and to tell you the truth, having found you so
-unexpectedly, I must take a little time to consider of my own conduct,
-for there are circumstances connected with that letter which it may be
-difficult to deal with.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Of course, if the letter is addressed to me, it must be given to me,&quot;
-replied Edgar, almost sharply.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Undoubtedly,&quot; answered Captain M----; &quot;but, perhaps, I may not feel
-myself justified in affording you any farther information than the
-letter itself contains.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I dare say that will be sufficient,&quot; answered Edgar, with a better
-satisfied air; &quot;but at all events, Captain M----, I think, if that
-letter be what I suspect, I can show you reasons for giving me every
-information in your power, sufficient to satisfy fully a man of your
-character.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We shall see,&quot; answered Captain M----; &quot;and in the mean time, as I
-have said, I will think over the circumstances. At what hour shall I
-call upon you tomorrow?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;At any hour you like,&quot; answered Edgar. &quot;The sooner the better,
-indeed. Will you say six in the morning?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Rather early,&quot; replied Captain M----; &quot;but so be it. They are going
-to begin dancing, I see. Is that one of your amusements?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not to-night,&quot; answered Edgar; and then after a pause, he added, in a
-low, meditative tone, &quot;The Nameless Fisherman of the Nameless Lake!
-Was he a tall, exceedingly handsome man; a gentleman in every word,
-and look, and movement, with the most scrupulous taste in his dress?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He was interrupted by a smile, faint and almost sad, which came upon
-Captain M----'s lip. &quot;He is certainly tall,&quot; replied the young
-officer, &quot;and evidently highly educated. Doubtless he has been very
-handsome, too, but when I saw him, he was exceedingly emaciated, pale
-and hollow-eyed; and as for his dress, it was not as neat and precise
-as you mention. It was partly the dress of a convict, partly that of a
-savage, and his beard was of a month's growth at least.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I had forgotten,&quot; said Edgar, vehemently, putting his hand before his
-eyes; &quot;I had forgotten how he has been trampled on, and injured, and
-oppressed; and what changes such injury and oppression may work, even
-in the innocent, the generous, and the noble.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The suddenness of his gesture, and the warmth with which he spoke,
-called several eyes upon him; and the next instant he turned sharply
-away, and entered a lesser room on the Governor's left. Captain
-M---- followed him, beginning to understand and appreciate his
-character. As but few people had yet arrived, the room was vacant, and
-sitting down at a card-table together, they entered into a long and
-earnest conversation, carried on in low tones, for nearly an hour; and
-then, some other persons entering, they returned to the ball-room with
-faces apparently more cheerful than when they had left it.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">The least perceptible gleam of gray light was shining in the eastern
-sky; the stars were twinkling clear and large, with hardly diminished
-brightness, when, from the door of a house, in the midst of wild woods
-and beautiful savannas, came forth two men, and took their way across
-a patch of half-cultivated land before the door. The dwelling itself
-was an odd-looking construction, but not altogether unpleasant to the
-eye. The principal building was a long range on the ground floor,
-constructed of masses of very white stone, neatly hewn and joined
-together, while above, what seemed a single room, with two windows
-unglazed, towered above the rest, with a flat roof. All the way along
-the front ran a little balcony, supported by rough trunks of trees,
-and decorated with the wild vine; while, along the edges of the walks,
-which had been carefully laid out through the cultivated patch I have
-spoken of, were little trellises of lath and twig, partially covered
-with an immense variety of climbing plants. The whole had an air of
-comfort, and neatness, and security, as it were, which spread, like an
-emanation of the social spirit, into the scene around, and took from
-it that appearance of desolation which Dudley felt so much in his own
-wilder, though more beautiful, habitation.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">For about five miles Norries walked on by the side of his guest of the
-preceding night; and then they came to the edge of a low melancholy
-lake, in the midst of the thickest part of the scrub, as the low woods
-are called, in which the dark blue hues of a heavy dawning sky were
-reflected, varied with lines of light, as the rising sun caught upon
-the edges of the dull clouds. Three large snowy white birds were
-hovering over the surface of the gloomy waters; and through a break in
-the woods beyond, a dull orange hue marked the horizon where the day
-was appearing.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The canoe was found where they had left it on the preceding evening;
-and as they got into the frail bark, Norries remarked, &quot;It will save
-you fifteen miles of heavy march, for the tarn is very narrow here;
-but on foot you would have to take the whole way round, which makes
-the distance well nigh sixty miles, to the foot of Mount Gambier from
-my house, I have never been there myself, but so the scoundrel Brady
-told me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not so far, I think,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;but I trust, Mr. Norries, you
-will come up to my lonely dwelling ere long; for sad and desolate as a
-residence there was before, it will be even more so now. My own fate
-was a dark shadow, but I still had confidence in human nature. I
-thought it capable of crimes, undoubtedly, committed under strong
-temptation or sudden passions; but the black page in man's character
-which you have opened to me, has made me feel sadder than ever. It is
-another confidence gone, Mr. Norries, and that is always painful.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We grow grave as we grow old,&quot; answered Norries, paddling his canoe
-with no mean skill, &quot;because we lose the delusions which fill youth
-with smiles; but do we not grow wiser too, sir? Nevertheless, do not
-let the discovery of some things in the world, which you did not know,
-induce you to judge too harshly because you had before judged too
-leniently. It is in the just appreciation of men and things that lies
-the wisdom which gives no merriment but much tranquillity. I have
-learned some hard lessons lately, Mr. Dudley as well as yourself; but
-they have not made me misanthropical. I have found that there are
-worse men in the world, feebler men in the world--deeper crime, and
-deeper folly, than I thought; but at the same time, I have found
-devotion more high and pure, honesty more incorruptible, and wisdom in
-simplicity, more beautiful than even my enthusiasm had ever figured.
-It is as wrong to undervalue as to overvalue men, to hope too little
-from them as to expect too much; but, for you, brighter days
-undoubtedly will come, and with them hopes and enthusiasms, which
-revive, like flowers refreshed by dew, as soon as the sun of success
-arises. I am too old for such things, but I hope I have found peace.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I trust that it may be so in your case,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;but I will
-indulge no hopes in my own. They have branded me with the name of
-felon; can they ever wipe out that stain? They have severed ties which
-can hardly be knit again. Even now, I know not the extent of the evil;
-and from my experience of life, I am inclined to believe that human
-hope, even in despair, so much outstrips probability, that when ills
-of any kind are to be suffered and endured, they are sure to be much
-greater than foresight reckoned upon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is a heavy view of life, indeed,&quot; answered Norries; &quot;but yet I
-hope you will find yourself mistaken. No one can tell, however; and as
-I have been deluded myself by others, I will take no share in
-deluding.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">At this point the conversation dropped for the time, and was not
-resumed again till they were nearing that shore of the lake which was
-next to Mount Gambier. There Norries left his guest upon the bank,
-adding a few more cautions and instructions in regard to the
-productions, climate, and inhabitants of New Holland; and wishing him
-heartily good bye, turned his canoe, and rowed, or paddled, towards
-the other side of the lake.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley walked on, with his gun under his arm, while the glorious light
-of the rising sun spread broad over the whole scene. The morning air
-was fresh, and he felt invigorated by repose and society; but still
-his mind was sadly depressed, and his eyes were more frequently bent
-upon the ground than raised to the woody scene around him, or to the
-glorious sky above. At length, however, about four hours before noon,
-he paused for a moment in the midst of a wide savannah, surrounded on
-every side by magnificent trees, to gaze at the park-like appearance
-of the landscape, which had reminded him strongly, as had been the
-case with Brady, of some of the most beautiful parts of his native
-land. The memories that it called up were sweet, but a well of
-bitterness sprang up in the past, turning the whole cup of life to
-gall.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As he looked around, with a slow and contemplative gaze, he fancied he
-saw a dim, shadowy figure creeping quietly along amidst the tall bolls
-of the trees on the edge of the wide meadow. If his eyes did not
-deceive him, it was the form of a tall man, stealing through the
-second or third row of cedars, which were there very thick; but though
-he watched intently, he could not catch another glance of it, and he
-could only guess that it was one of the natives, who, on seeing a
-white man, had plunged into the deeper parts of the scrub, or had
-hidden himself behind some tree or bush. He knew that the aborigines
-were fierce and cunning, especially the Milmendura, who were said to
-frequent that neighbourhood; but he was well armed, and did not feel
-much apprehension, for he had heard that the greater part of the tribe
-were down at the Coorong, a great salt inlet of the sea, many miles
-distant, or at the lakes in the same neighbourhood. With one or two,
-he thought, if he should meet them, he could cope easily, at least on
-open ground; and he consequently walked on without any appearance of
-suspicion, though he kept his eyes upon the scrub, as if looking for
-game. The cedars were succeeded by a large patch of tall stringy bark
-trees, having no brushwood beneath them, and there he twice more
-caught a sight of the dim figure, flitting along, almost step by step,
-as he advanced, and then sheltering itself behind one of the large
-trunks. He had now no doubt that it was that of a man watching him,
-which certainly was not altogether pleasant, especially as the dark
-colour of the native's skin so much resembled, in the shade, the
-objects amongst which he was moving, that it was with very great
-difficulty he was distinguished at all.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">When Dudley arrived at the spot where the savannah ended, he chose a
-passage through a more open part of the belt of woodland which
-separated it from a still larger extent of grazing ground, and kept a
-keen watch upon his right, that he might not be attacked unprepared.
-He saw nothing, and heard nothing, however, for five or six hundred
-yards, till he was just issuing forth again into the meadows beyond,
-and had his eye upon the top of Mount Gambier, seen over the wavy
-outline of the scrub; but then a cry was heard, more like the sudden
-yelp of a dog when hurt, than any sound produced by a human throat,
-and something came whizzing through the trees towards him. The natural
-impulse was to jump aside at once; but before he could do it, a long
-and apparently heavy spear descended within two yards of him, burying
-its sharp point deep in the ground, and quivering as it stood nearly
-erect, like a young tree newly planted.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley instantly cocked both barrels of his gun, and looked towards
-the spot whence the missile came. But nothing was to be seen but the
-trunks of the trees, with here and there a little patch of underwood.
-No moving thing was within sight, but the branches gently agitated by
-the fresh morning air. Pulling the spear out of the ground, the
-wanderer carried it away with him as well as his gun, and walking
-quickly on, got as fast as possible into the open ground again, which
-now lay before him, unbroken for an extent of nearly three miles. A
-wood of tall trees was prolonged upon his right; and on his left was a
-piece of uneven bushy land, between the meadow and a sterile tract
-stretching to the sea-shore; but between the two covers, the space of
-open meadow ground, with nothing but a solitary tree starting up here
-and there, varied in breadth from a mile to a mile and a half, so
-that, by keeping a middle course, he was out of reach of spear or
-arrow sent from beneath the trees. He walked on, then, quietly looking
-around him, indeed, from time to time, but displaying no sign of fear
-or haste; and more than once he thought he caught sight of a native in
-the wood, who did not venture to come out into the open meadow.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">By the time he had walked to within five or six hundred yards of the
-end of the savannah, the sun had gained great power, and the length of
-the shadows had diminished considerably. Before him lay some miles of
-country, neither exactly wood nor exactly pasture, but undulating, and
-broken with a number of scattered trees, and large clumps of mimosas
-and cedars, together with thickets of various kinds of shrubs, and
-juniper bushes, rising to an unusual height. That there was one enemy
-at least near, Dudley had already proof sufficient; and the tract
-through which he had to pass before he could reach his mountain
-dwelling-place was undoubtedly well fitted for the attack of a subtle
-assailant. There were a thousand places, as he well knew--for he was
-now entering a country which he had frequently explored--whence a
-concealed enemy might hurl one of the tremendous spears of the
-country, without exposing himself, even in the least degree. After
-short consideration, Dudley resolved to seek a resting-place at a
-little rising knoll in the savannah, shaded by two or three mimosas,
-and at the distance of fully three hundred yards from the wood, hoping
-that, if the savage who had been watching him were alone, he would get
-tired of waiting for an opportunity, and leave him to pursue his
-journey without farther molestation. He seated himself, then, laying
-down his gun and the spear beside him, but not removing the axe from
-his belt, as it was there readier to his hand; and, taking some
-provisions from his wallet, he began his frugal meal, still keeping a
-wary eye upon the country round. He had just finished the portion of
-food which he allowed himself, and had drunk half the water contained
-in his gourd, when he thought he perceived a curious undulatory
-movement in the long dry grass at no great distance. The wind had
-fallen away, so that it could not be produced by that cause; and he
-felt sure that a snake, let its size be what it might, would have
-crept on its way without such evident signs of its progress. Turning
-his eye a little to the left, he saw the long grass agitated in a
-similar manner; and starting up at once, he cocked his gun again, and
-pointed it at one of the spots where the motion was apparent. The act
-of rising gave him a better view; and he now distinctly saw several
-dark objects moving towards him, whenever the grass was thrown aside a
-little as they advanced. He hesitated an instant, unwilling to
-sacrifice human life; but knowing that his own must depend upon
-decision--for both the spear which had been hurled at him, and the
-insidious method of approach now adopted, showed that, if they were
-men who were creeping up, they must be enemies--he took his
-resolution, and, aiming well, fired at the object which had first
-caught his eye.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In an instant, with a wild yell, rose up six or seven tall and
-frightful savages, with long curly hair, bedaubed with grease and
-ochre. One, the moment he had reached his feet, fell back again amidst
-the grass; but the others, poising their spears lightly for an
-instant, discharged them all at once at Dudley with an aim fearfully
-accurate. The exceedingly brief pause they had made, however, to
-direct their missiles, gave him time enough to jump behind the nearest
-mimosa. Three spears passed on one side, one on the other, and two
-struck the tree, and tore off a large portion of the bark. The
-wanderer had but short time for consideration; for after having cast
-their spears, the savages rushed on with clubs, and other weapons of
-their own construction, shouting and screaming wildly. Snatching up
-the spear, of which he had possessed himself, Dudley set his back
-against the tree, aiming the second barrel of his gun at a tall,
-powerful man, who was the foremost, and seemed to be the commander of
-the party. His situation was desperate, indeed, but he determined to
-sell his life dearly. His gun made him certain of one of the enemy;
-and he calculated that, what between the spear he held and his
-hatchet, he might bring down two more; but three still uninjured would
-remain, even when this was accomplished; and, unable to throw the
-javelin with their force and precision, as soon as his gun was
-discharged, each savage had an advantage over him, which must in the
-end overpower resistance. The leader of the natives, however, seeing
-the barrel of the fowling-piece directed towards himself, and probably
-fully aware of its fatal effects, both from what he had seen that day,
-and previous knowledge, halted suddenly, and then spoke a few words to
-his companions in their own tongue. The effect was instantaneous; the
-men separated at once, and running round the clump of trees, with the
-second spear which each carried, poised in their hands, prepared once
-more to attack from a distance, and from every quarter, so that some
-one weapon was sure to take effect.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Seeing that he must die, Dudley, still aiming at the chief, was
-dropping his finger on the trigger, when, to his surprise, the man
-fell back upon the ground with a loud shriek; and Dudley might have
-been tempted to imagine that it was a feint to prevent him from
-firing, had he not at the same instant heard the sharp report of a
-gun, succeeded instantly by another, while, at the same moment, a
-second of the savages sprang high up into the air, dropping his lance
-with a fearful yell. A loud cheer from the side of the low bushes
-followed instantly; and the assailants, finding themselves assailed by
-arms and numbers superior to their own, fled as fast as they could go,
-one of them throwing his spear in haste at Dudley before he went, but
-only grazing his shoulder slightly, in consequence of a hurried and
-ill-directed aim.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Thanking God for his preservation, Dudley turned towards the spot from
-whence the cheer he had heard proceeded, and beheld a party of five or
-six men advancing from the scrub. One was on foot, but all the rest
-were mounted; and Dudley, to his surprise, recognised in the
-pedestrian the vigorous form of Norries, whom he had thought full
-twenty miles away. The young wanderer advanced at once from under the
-mimosas to meet his deliverers; but as he came nearer, the aspect of
-one of the horsemen seemed familiar to his sight. Associations sweet
-and happy rose up, which he had not suffered to visit him for years.
-Hopes undefined and vague, but bright and glorious, swam before his
-eyes, and with a beating heart and giddy brain, Dudley stopped unable
-to take another step in advance.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">At the same moment that Dudley, with his whole thoughts and feelings
-cast into confusion, halted suddenly in his advance, the horseman who
-was coming forward on the right hand of Norries drew his rein tight,
-and sprang to the ground. A few words passed between him and his
-companion, accompanied by quick and eager gesticulations, and then he
-darted forward and clasped Dudley's hand in his own.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Dudley!&quot; &quot;Edgar!&quot; were the only words that were uttered by either for
-several moments, for overpowering emotion in the bosom of each forbade
-all farther utterance. The coming up of Norries was a relief to both,
-although there were several strangers in the party who accompanied
-him, and in one of them Dudley thought he recognised an officer of the
-government whom he had seen at Hobart Town.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Did I not tell you, Mr. Dudley,&quot; said Norries, in his abrupt way,
-&quot;that, notwithstanding all the wickedness and the crime which this
-world contains, all the folly, the feebleness, and the selfishness
-which are to be found in every class of life, there is still devotion
-more high and pure, honesty more incorruptible, and wisdom more
-beautiful, than even the enthusiasm of inexperience can picture to the
-mind of youth?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You did, indeed,&quot; answered Dudley, with a bewildered look; &quot;but I do
-not comprehend all this. In heaven's name, Edgar, how came you hither?
-What brought you to this place?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;To see you, Dudley,&quot; answered Edgar, wringing his hand again; &quot;to
-bring you good tidings, to comfort, to----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, well,&quot; cried Norries, interrupting him, &quot;we will talk that all
-over by-and-bye. Don't you see that Mr. Dudley is a good deal
-discomposed by all this? He is very glad to meet with an old friend
-from England, and that is enough to shake a man's heart who has not
-known what gladness is for many a long month. Besides, he has had to
-defend his life against a whole herd of these savages. My gun served
-you well there, Mr. Dudley, and two of the balls you gave me last
-night for my own defence have been turned to yours. But let us come up
-to the scene of action, and see what the results are. I brought two of
-the men down, I think.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And I one,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;but one of them was only wounded, and I
-believe got away with the rest. Those spears of theirs are frightful
-things; and I had five or six of them thrown at me at once. The tree
-sheltered me that time, but I could not have escaped them again in the
-same manner, and must have died here, had it not been for what I must
-call your marvellous arrival at the very moment when my fate was in
-the balance.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It was not marvellous at all,&quot; answered Norries. &quot;The fact is, as
-soon as I had got to the other side of the lake, after leaving you
-this morning, I found Mr. Adelon and these other gentlemen coming down
-from my house, where they had been to seek me for information and
-guidance; and paddling back again, while they rode round, we followed
-very close upon your heels. We saw some of the natives moving about,
-and suspected that they were watching ourselves, which only made us
-hurry our pace, and follow the track under the low scrub between the
-pasture and the shore. Hearing these black dogs yelping, and the
-report of a gun, we were quite sure that some European was in trouble,
-and so we scrambled through the bushes as fast as we could go, and got
-in sight of our friends with the spears just at the right moment. You
-must have walked very slow, or halted somewhere, for you had a full
-hour's start of us.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I did walk slow,&quot; answered Dudley, &quot;and I also sat down to rest under
-the trees, in hopes that the savages, having no cover to hide them,
-and being afraid, I believe, of a gun, would free me from their
-unpleasant company, and leave me to pursue my way during the evening
-in peace. But it seems they need very little cover, for without a bush
-or shrub of any kind to hide them, they had got within a hundred yards
-of me, before I was aware of their approach.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Lord bless you, sir!&quot; cried the government officer, who was following
-slowly as they advanced towards the mimosa trees, &quot;they will creep
-through the long grass just like a rattle-snake. But here lies one of
-them, dead enough, I think.&quot; And with that he dismounted, and turned
-over the body of one of the savages with his foot. The man had
-apparently died instantly, and without pain; for Norries' ball had
-passed through his heart, and the features, though horrible in
-themselves, were not contorted. Another was found a moment after, with
-the same low, unpleasant brow running back at a sharp angle from the
-eyes; and after gazing at it for a moment, Dudley turned inquiringly
-to Norries, saying, &quot;What shall we do with the bodies?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! leave them where they are,&quot; answered Norries. &quot;Their friends will
-come and fetch them; and some day or another you may see them slung up
-between two bushes, like a scarecrow in a field in England. But now,
-Mr. Dudley, I think these gentlemen and I had better go on to your
-place, for this, I believe, is the only opportunity I shall ever have
-of returning your visit.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I shall be very happy to do all I can for their convenience,&quot;
-answered Dudley, looking at the numerous party with some hesitation;
-&quot;but I think you could give them better accommodation, Mr. Norries,
-for I have nowhere to lodge myself but a hole in a rock.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I can hardly take them there,&quot; whispered Norries. &quot;I have often poor
-creatures who have run away coming about me, and you see there are
-some of the government people here.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! never mind the accommodation, sir,&quot; exclaimed the government
-officer, speaking at the same time. &quot;We are all bushmen except Mr.
-Adelon and his servant, and we can make a bivouac of it, if you can
-lodge those two.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That I think I can do,&quot; answered Dudley, &quot;though very roughly. You do
-not know, Edgar,&quot; he continued, turning to his young friend, &quot;what it
-is to lead a rover's life here.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is a life I should like beyond all things, for a short time at
-least,&quot; replied Edgar Adelon; but the officer added almost at the same
-time, addressing Dudley, with a meaning smile, &quot;You have had a good
-three months' trial of it, sir, at all events.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley hardly knew what to understand from his manner, for there was a
-shrewd, intelligent look about the man's countenance whenever he
-addressed him, which plainly indicated that he knew all about his
-actual situation as an escaped convict, or deserter, as it is
-frequently called in colonial parlance; but, at the same time, his
-manner was respectful, and not in the least degree menacing, so that
-Dudley could not suppose for one moment, either from his general
-demeanour or from the company in which he came thither, that his
-object was to apprehend and convey him back to a penal settlement. Yet
-what was he to think? What was he to expect? He did not venture to
-indulge in hopes, for the bright promise-maker had so frequently
-deceived him that he trusted her no longer; and even the first whisper
-of her voice, sweet and soothing as it ever is, he shrunk from, as if
-it had been the fanning of a vampire's wing lulling him into a fatal
-repose. Hope was, indeed, the enemy whom he dreaded most, for he
-feared that that sweet voice of hers might prove more treacherous than
-man's bitterest hate. Neither could he understand how his fate could
-have been changed; but while he said to himself, &quot;No, I will not
-indulge in hope,&quot; he trusted still.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Giving his horse to the servant who followed him, Edgar Adelon walked
-on by Dudley's side, sometimes conversing with him and sometimes in
-silence. They looked at each other frequently, with an anxious glance,
-as if each had much to say to the other--questions to ask, tales to
-tell, intelligence to communicate; but there were so many always round
-them, that it would have been difficult to say one word unheard, and
-the common feelings and thoughts of mutual interests in the breasts of
-both were not fitted for indifferent ears. They had proceeded some ten
-or twelve miles in this manner, and Dudley thought he perceived that
-Edgar walked with a fainter pace, when they arrived upon the bank of a
-broad but not very deep river, a tributary, apparently, of the Murray
-or the Glenelg. Dudley had crossed it on the preceding day, and knew
-that in no place it was more than knee-deep. He was about to walk in
-at once, therefore, but Edgar knelt down upon the bank to drink,
-saying, &quot;I am dreadfully thirsty, and hungry too, if the truth must be
-told; for we expected to find provisions at your house, Mr. Norries,
-but were disappointed by not finding you within.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You should have gone in and taken them, young gentleman,&quot; replied
-Norries; &quot;we never scruple at such things in the scrub. Every man is
-welcome to whatever the house contains in the way of food. I dare say,
-however, Mr. Dudley has a biscuit or two in his wallet. You look
-faint.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He has not touched a morsel all day,&quot; said the officer. &quot;He was so
-eager to get forward, we could not make him eat.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have only three hard biscuits left,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;but stay, I
-have the means of getting more nourishing food. I saw fish in this
-river as I passed yesterday, and they must be at feed about this time.
-If you will light a fire, I will soon get some.&quot; And drawing out a
-winder with a strong line, he sought along the bank for bait. A
-peculiar kind of grub appeared in plenty near the roots of the trees;
-and while Edgar lay down on the bank to rest himself, Dudley cut a
-sapling for a rod, and once more tried his fortune for a meal out of
-the waters. The first cast of his line was unsuccessful; and suffering
-the bait to float slowly down, the fisherman was preparing to draw it
-out a second time, when he suddenly felt a tug, which nearly drew the
-rod he had made out of his hands. The officer and one of the other men
-had followed him, watching his sport; and although, by every device he
-could think of, Dudley strove to save his line from snapping, and draw
-the fish to the shore, it soon became apparent that without a reel, or
-any appropriate tackle, he must be unsuccessful; and the officer,
-plunging in, exclaimed, &quot;I will kill him!&quot; and ran his left hand down
-the line, opening a large clasp-knife with the other. He had to rue
-the experiment, however, for the moment after having bent down and
-dipped his arms in the water, he drew them out again, exclaiming, &quot;He
-has cut me to the bone!&quot; but he resolutely attempted the feat again,
-and appeared to succeed, for shutting up his knife, and taking hold of
-the line, he drew it slowly to the side, when, with Dudley's
-assistance, he lifted out an enormous fish of the perch kind, weighing
-not less than fifty pounds.<a name="div4Ref_02" href="#div4_02"><sup>[2]</sup></a>
-A fire was by this time lighted; and
-the fish, cut into slices, was put to broil thereon, affording, in a
-few minutes, a very satisfactory meal to the whole party.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">When somewhat refreshed, Edgar Adelon looked up, saying with a smile,
-&quot;I feel stronger how, Dudley, thanks to the Nameless Fisherman of the
-Nameless Lake.&quot; And in those few words, a part, at least, of the
-history of Edgar's coming was told to his companion. After resting for
-about an hour and a half, the whole party rose, and pursued their way
-to the foot of Mount Gambier, which began to tower above them as they
-advanced; and when, having left some of the party below with the
-horses, the others reached the top, the same wild and magnificent
-scene was presented to the eyes of Edgar Adelon, in the light of the
-setting sun, which had welcomed Dudley on the day of his first
-arrival. The effect was great upon an enthusiastic and impressible
-mind, and he exclaimed, &quot;Well, Dudley, methinks it would not be so
-hard to pass one's days in such a spot as this.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;This is not its only aspect,&quot; answered Dudley, laying his hand upon
-his arm.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And it is so with everything in life,&quot; said Norries. &quot;There is
-scarcely any object in any state so inherently beautiful, or so
-inherently hideous, that the light in which we view them will not
-render them either pleasant or repulsive to the eye.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There is somewhat more to be said, too, Edgar,&quot; continued Dudley.
-&quot;Much of the intensity of everything depends upon its accessories.
-There are accessories to all states in the human heart. Think, for one
-moment, of the condition of my mind here, and you will see that a
-paradise might well be a desert to me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;True, true,&quot; answered Edgar, pressing his hand upon his eyes, and
-then adding with a sigh, &quot;but that is over.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Take my advice, Mr. Adelon,&quot; said Norries. &quot;Go into the hut, lie
-down, and give yourself up to sleep, without thinking or talking any
-more. From what I have seen of you to-day, I very clearly perceive
-that you have been too much fatigued, and too much excited. In ten
-minutes it will be night, and you will rise refreshed, to tell your
-tale under the light of the dawning day. I will sleep out here upon
-this soft grass.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not think I can sleep,&quot; replied Edgar.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Try, try,&quot; said Dudley; and he led him into his wild dwelling, and
-pointed out to him his own lowly bed of dried herbs and grass, covered
-with the skins of the kangaroo. &quot;There, Edgar,&quot; he said, &quot;rest there.
-It has been my couch through many a weary and restless night; but
-sleep should visit your eyes more readily, for kindness surely has its
-own balm, and he who comes to comfort and to cheer may well expect
-repose and peace.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He was turning to leave the but, but Edgar detained him for a moment,
-saying, &quot;Let me comfort and cheer, then, Dudley, by telling you my
-best news first. You need no longer be an exile, you need no longer
-live in solitude; I have your full pardon with me. You are free.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It was not that Dudley was ungrateful either to God or man. It was not
-that he did not feel the intelligence as a relief; but at that moment
-the sense of having been injured was stronger upon him than ever. The
-redress did not seem to him to be complete, and he repeated,
-&quot;Pardoned! pardoned! What have I done that requires pardon?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing, Dudley,&quot; answered Edgar; &quot;but there is much to be told and
-much to be considered. Not now, however, for I feel that Mr. Norries's
-advice is right, and I must have repose.&quot;</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXXV.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">There is a strange and curious difference between the light of morning
-and the light of evening. The same sun gives it, the same flood of
-glory falls through the skies, the same scene lies below, the same
-horizon sweeps around. It seems only that the lightgiver is at the one
-hour in the east, at the other in the west, and no sufficient cause
-appears for that extraordinary difference of hue in the air and over
-the earth.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It was morning, and the soft early light was stealing gently over
-everything, amongst the leaves of the trees, through the breaks in the
-rocks, down into the deep basin of the hills, into the caverns of the
-lava, along the smooth unruffled surface of the lake; and Charles
-Dudley and Edgar Adelon were seated together upon the top of the bold
-crags which towered over the crater of the extinct volcano. The whole
-scene was softened to their eyes; a slight mist hung over the woody
-world on the one hand, and profound shadows, only broken here and
-there by the quiet morning ray, lay in the deep abyss upon the other
-side. It was a fit scene for such conversation as they were to hold,
-and Dudley, with his head resting on his hands, listened with eager
-attention to his young companion's words, sometimes, indeed,
-interrupting him by a question, but generally too intensely moved for
-any inquiry.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then she loves me still!&quot; he said: &quot;then she loves me still!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;As deeply and devotedly as ever,&quot; answered Edgar; &quot;and you have
-wronged her if you have doubted, Dudley.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Never, never!&quot; murmured Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But let me proceed,&quot; said Edgar Adelon. &quot;Matters pursued this course
-for many months. I recovered completely from the fever. The trials of
-the rioters at Barhampton took place, and almost every man who
-underwent the ordeal was condemned. Men thought the government very
-lenient in not pressing a more serious crime upon them, and banishment
-for life was judged a mild sentence. I heard nothing of Mr. Clive or
-Helen, and you can imagine, Dudley, how my too eager and impatient
-spirit could bear such suspense. I inquired of Filmer. I asked
-everybody connected with the farm, but I received no intelligence. The
-priest assured me that he was acting on Mr. Clive's behalf without any
-other authority or directions than those which he had received on that
-fatal night which brought so much misery along with it. Yet Helen had
-promised to write, and I never knew her break her word. My father,
-though long detained in London, returned at length to Brandon.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It was after the trial of the rioters,&quot; he added, with a sad but
-meaning look; &quot;and finding poor Eda in the melancholy and desponding
-state which I have described, he took her into Yorkshire, in order, if
-possible, to divert her mind from the subject on which her thoughts
-rested so painfully. It was clear, however, to my eyes, at least, that
-he himself was neither well nor happy. I guessed the cause; but that
-is a part of the story, Dudley, which I cannot enter into. You may,
-perhaps, divine the whole, but I cannot speak of it. I took advantage
-of the change of our residence from Brandon, and obtained my father's
-consent to travel for some months on the continent. He had no idea, it
-is true, why I went, or what I sought; but a suspicion had crossed my
-mind, which, as it proved, was a just one. What made it enter into my
-head I cannot rightly tell. There are some things so like intuition
-that I can hardly doubt that the mind has greater powers than
-philosophers have been inclined to admit. In this instance a
-perception of the truth flashed across me like a stream of lightning,
-one day while I was conversing with Filmer. He said nothing, it is
-true, which could naturally give rise to the idea which presented
-itself. The words were merely, 'Poor Clive's long absence;' and
-whether it was the tone in which he spoke, or the peculiar look with
-which the words were accompanied, I know not; but I asked myself at
-once, 'Is Clive's absence connected with Dudley's fate?'&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But tell me, Edgar,&quot; said Mr. Dudley, &quot;did you never suspect that Mr.
-Filmer himself had laboured to deprive me of the proofs of my
-innocence?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Never,&quot; answered Edgar. &quot;Eda suspected him, I know; but I always
-thought she was prejudiced. I also suspected him, but not of that. I
-thought he had practised on me one of his pious frauds.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Norries told me,&quot; said Dudley, &quot;that he had certainly taken means
-to stop your communication with the only men who were likely to have
-the power of proving that I quitted Lord Hadley at the exact spot
-where I asserted I had left him, and walked on at once towards
-Barhampton.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He did do so,&quot; replied Edgar, &quot;and I discovered that he did; but you
-must recollect I had been severely injured by a blow on the head, and
-I attributed Filmer's conduct to an anxiety on his part to prevent my
-exerting myself at a time when I was certainly unfit for it. I was
-angry that he did so, and I taxed him with it. He boldly justified his
-conduct, asked me if even the exertion I had made had not nearly
-killed me, and then demanded, what would the consequences have been
-had I made such exertion two days before. This satisfied me, Dudley,
-and never till that moment which I have just been speaking of, did a
-suspicion of the truth cross my mind. However, if I had been anxious
-before to discover Clive's residence, I was now determined that I
-would do so, and as soon as possible I set out upon the pursuit. One
-of the men who had been tried for insurrection acknowledged that they
-had been supplied with arms from France, brought over in a vessel
-chartered by the communists of that country, at the port of Nantes. I
-knew it was the same in which Mr. Clive and Helen had quitted England,
-and to Nantes I accordingly went. I had obtained every clue that I
-possibly could as to the proprietors of the vessel, before I set out,
-but my information aided me but little. No effort I could make enabled
-me to trace those whom I sought. I wandered all through Brittany, and
-La Vendee, and Normandy, and Touraine; but it was all in vain. Beyond
-the town of Nantes itself I lost all trace, and at length, late in the
-spring of last year, I returned to England. My father and Eda were by
-this time in London; and Filmer, I found, was absent in France. I told
-Eda all I had done. I tried to console her with hopes of still
-establishing your innocence. It was the only consolation the dear girl
-had; for my father, not judging rightly of her heart and mind, was
-eager to dissipate her gloomy thoughts by forcing her into society.
-His house was filled with people from morning to night; but Eda
-remained almost entirely shut up in her own room, and would not go out
-to any public place, or any party. She never would believe that Filmer
-had been really anxious for your safety, and her doubts now affected
-me. A new suspicion took hold of me. Although he had made a pretence
-to my father of very different business in France, I suspected that he
-had gone to see Clive; and one day, when my father handed me over a
-letter of his, containing some interesting observations upon the state
-of France--there is no man more capable of making them--I examined
-carefully the post-mark of the letter, and discovered the word Angers.
-In looking at the date of the letter, it was Tours. This was a
-discovery. He was deceiving my father, as well as myself; but I
-brought no rash charges; I have grown wonderfully prudent, Dudley; and
-I would not even write to Clive till I was aware that Filmer had left
-him, if, as I suspected, he was at Angers with him. Another month
-passed in impatient suspense, and my father threw out many hints of
-tours in different parts of Europe, which he thought might amuse Eda's
-mind. There were even preparations for travelling made, when suddenly
-Mr. Filmer again appeared amongst us. The very night after his
-arrival, I was informed by Sir Arthur that he intended to go to Italy,
-and thence by the Ionian Islands and Greece, to Constantinople. Eda
-and Filmer were to be his companions, and my presence was looked upon
-as a matter of course. I was not even invited: it was taken for
-granted. But I was resolved not to go, at least at once, and therefore
-I took care to involve myself in engagements which could not easily be
-broken through. With one friend I laid a bet, a very heavy one, as to
-the result of three days' shooting on the moors. I promised my friend,
-Eldred, to be present at his marriage; and in fact, I created for
-myself so many excuses that my father was obliged to own it would be
-necessary for me to stop and join the party afterwards at Naples. I
-could see Mr. Filmer's face change when he heard this arrangement; and
-a look of bitter gloom came upon it, which confirmed my former doubts.
-Without waiting for their departure, I at once wrote a letter to Clive
-himself, and addressed it 'Angers;' but I was now suspicious of
-everything. I took it to the post myself, and I told him to whom I
-wrote all that had befallen you, begging him to address his reply to a
-hotel in London. Day after day passed by; my father and the rest set
-out upon their tour, and I began to fancy that I had been mistaken,
-for no letter came. I then determined that I would go over to Angers
-myself, and was sitting in the dining-room of my father's house, the
-only public room which had been left open when he went abroad,
-gloomily pondering, both over my own fate and yours, Dudley, when I
-saw, on the opposite side of the street, a figure which instantly made
-me start up and hurry to the window. It was Clive himself; and he was
-gazing up at the closed windows of the house, thinking, as he told me
-afterwards, that there was nobody in town, and proposing to go down to
-Brandon in search of me. He had received my letter, and as soon as
-possible had come over in person, leaving dear Helen in France. I need
-not tell you now all the particulars of what followed, for we shall
-have plenty of time, I trust, to dwell upon details which will
-interest you much. It may be only necessary to say, that the
-noble-spirited old man had been kept in utter ignorance of an act
-having been charged upon you which he had himself performed--an act
-which in him was an act of justice, but in you might be considered as
-a crime. He told me that Helen had written to me often, and that
-although he had not seen what she wrote, he was sure that she had used
-such expressions as would have led me at once to perceive how Lord
-Hadley had met his death----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;How was it!&quot; exclaimed Dudley, interrupting him. &quot;But I can guess; I
-can guess. Go on, Edgar.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Nay, it is soon told,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon. &quot;On that fatal night,
-Clive had learned from Mr. Norries the shameful persecution which my
-sweet Helen had suffered from Lord Hadley, and he was returning over
-the cliffs, with a heart full of angry feelings, when he heard a cry
-for help, and instantly recognised his daughter's voice. Springing
-forward, he found the villain dragging her down towards the sea-shore,
-where he expected, it seems, to meet with a boat, which would have
-carried them to France. Clive instantly struck him a furious blow.
-Lord Hadley let go Helen, and returned it, and another was given by
-Clive. Only those three blows were struck; but the third, coming from
-Mr. Clive's powerful arm, dashed the unfortunate wretch back upon the
-railings at the top of the cliff; the woodwork gave way, and he fell
-headlong to the bottom. Thus took place the death of Lord Hadley; and
-you have seen enough of Mr. Clive yourself to be sure that it was not
-with his consent or knowledge that the deed was imputed to you. As
-soon as he discovered from my letter that such was the case, he came
-to give himself up and to clear you; and as he knew little of the
-means to be employed in such cases, he at first sought me at the hotel
-where I had ordered the letters to be addressed, and was thence
-directed to my father's London house. More by accident than by
-possessing any better information than his own, I advised him to
-follow what, as it has proved, was the best course he could have
-taken. I felt sure that, under the circumstances, no evil result could
-befall him from the open confession of the whole, which he proposed to
-make; and I offered to go with him immediately to the Secretary of
-State, whom I know personally, and tell him the whole facts. He agreed
-perfectly to my views, and we set off at once. You know Clive's
-straightforward, almost abrupt, way of dealing; but in this instance,
-it was understood and appreciated. The Secretary asked but few
-questions. Clive placed before him the letter which he had received
-from me; told him that it was the first intelligence which had been
-given to him of an innocent man having been accused and condemned for
-a deed which he had performed; and that he had instantly come over
-from France to tell the whole truth. The tale was so simple, and
-Clive's sincerity so clear, that all doubts as to your share in the
-transaction were at an end. The only question was how the case of
-Clive himself was to be dealt with; and the Secretary determined to
-leave him at liberty till his daughter and a labourer at the Grange,
-named Daniel Connor, could be brought to Loudon, upon his undertaking
-to appear whenever he should be called upon, and to hold no
-communication in the mean time with either of the two who were
-summoned as witnesses. In the end, a full investigation took place at
-the Secretary of State's office, where a police magistrate of great
-keenness and discrimination was called upon to assist. The
-examinations of Helen and of Daniel Connor were conducted apart,
-without either of them having seen Mr. Clive. Helen told the story
-simply and exactly as her father had told it; and the man, after a
-momentary hesitation and some prevarication, on being informed that
-Clive had come over himself voluntarily to tell the whole tale,
-confirmed every particular which had been previously stated. His
-evidence was compared with that which he had given before the
-coroner's jury and at your trial; and it was found that, although he
-had evidently given a colour to the truth on those two occasions,
-which left the jury to infer that you had committed the deed, he had
-not actually perjured himself. The intention, however, to procure your
-condemnation was so clear, that it led to farther inquiry; for in
-every other respect the man seemed honest and well-meaning, and the
-character that he bore in the country was exceedingly high. His
-veneration and regard for Clive did not sufficiently account for his
-conduct; and on being severely cross-questioned, he admitted that he
-had been prompted to give his evidence in the manner which you heard
-it given. I am sorry to say that the prompter was one whose character
-and profession should have been the last to be sullied by such acts.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I can guess whom you mean,&quot; replied Dudley. &quot;But here comes Norries
-himself, and I should much wish to ask him one question upon this
-matter: namely, why he did not himself either tell you that Clive had
-done the deed, when you were seeking for evidence in my defence, or
-give Mr. Clive information of my having been tried and condemned,
-though innocent?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">While he was speaking, Norries came up, and sat down beside them, and
-as he did not answer, although he must have heard part of what passed,
-Dudley addressed the question to himself. He replied, with a smile,
-&quot;How ready all men are, Mr. Dudley, to judge upon insufficient
-grounds! You have jumped at the conclusion that I was aware of facts
-which had not in any way come to my cognizance. I will not deny that I
-felt the strongest possible suspicion that my brother-in-law Clive had
-killed Lord Hadley, knowing the vehemence of his nature, the warmth
-and tenderness of his love for his daughter, and the gross insults and
-injuries she had received. But I had no right to inform others of my
-suspicions; and as to where Clive was, I never heard till yesterday. I
-was sure, however, that wherever he was, he would sooner or later do
-you justice; indeed, I do not know, and cannot comprehend, how the
-most upright and honest man that ever lived could suffer, either by
-his act or neglect, another to bear the imputation of a deed of his.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He was deceived,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon. &quot;He was kept without
-information. He was made to believe that suspicion rested upon him,
-and that if he returned to England, he would bring a blight and a
-shadow upon his honourable name, and a disgrace upon his child. He
-knew not that Dudley had ever been tried, far less that he had been
-condemned; and it is evident that Helen's letters to myself were all
-intercepted and destroyed.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;By whom?&quot; demanded Norries.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;By the priest,&quot; replied Edgar.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay, I remember,&quot; said Norries, thoughtfully, &quot;There was a priest used
-to come down to the house; one Father Peter, they used to call him. I
-never saw him; but Clive represented him as upright and elevated in
-character and mind.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He knows better now,&quot; answered Edgar; &quot;for many of Mr. Filmer's
-insincere proceedings have been now so thoroughly exposed, that the
-blackest web of subtlety ever woven by the disciples of Loyola cannot
-conceal their falsehood and their baseness.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Filmer!&quot; said Norries, thoughtfully; &quot;is that the same man whom they
-called Father Peter?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The same,&quot; replied Edgar. &quot;But to return to my tale, Dudley. Clive's
-straightforward tale, and Helen's clear and candid evidence, backed by
-that of many of the servants at Clive Grange, who were more or less
-aware of Lord Hadley's previous conduct towards her, convinced the
-Secretary of State that there was no ground for the Crown proceeding
-against a man who had accidentally slain another in defence of his own
-child. He left it to the relations of the dead man to act as they
-liked; but upon a clear view of the evidence, they were advised not to
-prosecute; and thus ended the matter as affecting Clive. In regard to
-yourself, a full pardon immediately passed the great seal; and I have
-the strongest and most positive assurance in writing that everything
-shall be done, as soon as you return, to clear your reputation from
-the slightest stain. I felt, Dudley,&quot; continued Edgar, grasping his
-hand, &quot;that your sympathy with me, and your indignation of the base
-treatment of one I love, had had a share, at least, in bringing so
-many misfortunes upon you, and I determined at once to set out to seek
-you, and bear you the happy tidings of your exculpation in person.
-Although Helen might feel some anxiety for my safety and health during
-a long voyage, and, perhaps, would have been better pleased, as far as
-she was personally concerned, had I remained in England, she was far
-from trying to dissuade me; and after seeing her and her father once
-more happily established at Clive Grange, I set out for this distant
-land as soon as I could find a ship. Shortly before I departed, I
-received a letter from my father, who had journeyed as far as Syria.
-He expressed some surprise that I had not joined him and Eda; but,
-doubtless,&quot; added the young man, with a smile, &quot;he was more surprised
-still when my next letter informed him that I had sailed for
-Australia. I gave him no particulars, nor assigned any reason for my
-going; for I wished much, Dudley, to leave you free to act in any way
-you might think fit, and to consult with you upon my own future
-conduct as well as yours. There is no probability of the tidings of
-Clive's confession and your exculpation reaching my father from any
-public source, as the examination was conducted privately; and I made
-it a particular request, both to Helen and her father, that they would
-not speak of the subject at all till my return. I will not conceal
-from you that there are difficulties and dangers, perhaps, before us
-both, prejudices of many kinds to be overcome; ay, and the skill and
-cunning of a subtle adversary to be frustrated. I know him now, and
-depend upon it, he will never forgive the detection of his falsehood
-and baseness.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Filmer!&quot; said Norries, who had been meditating gravely for several
-minutes: &quot;Filmer! Father Peter! That throws fresh light upon the
-whole. Mr. Dudley, I should like to speak with you for a few moments
-quite alone; and afterwards we had better go to breakfast, for this
-mountain air gives a keen appetite.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I must catch or shoot our breakfast first,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;unless
-you will content yourselves with some salt provisions which I have
-laid up here.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Let us walk down to the lake together,&quot; replied Norries. &quot;We can
-converse as we go; and you can exercise your skill in angling, while I
-give you some information that may be useful.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley willingly agreed; and when he and Norries rejoined the party
-above, after an absence of more than an hour, they brought with them
-plenty of fish, and Dudley's face bore an expression of thoughtful
-satisfaction, as if his conversation with Norries had added a new
-relief to that which the intelligence of Edgar had afforded.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda Brandon sat in her room alone. Her fair face was somewhat paler
-than when first it was presented to the reader's eyes, and the look of
-sparkling cheerfulness was no longer there. It had grown very
-thoughtful; but yet those who had seen her only four days before, if
-they had keen and remarking eyes, would have perceived, when they
-looked at her now, that, from some cause, a great alteration had very
-recently taken place; that an expression of careless despondency was
-gone; that there was, in fact, the light of hope renewed upon her
-countenance. During the long pilgrimage she had made with her uncle,
-it must not be supposed that Eda had cherished the melancholy which
-had fallen upon her, that she had neglected any reasonable opportunity
-of diverting her thoughts from the bitter subject of a hopeless
-passion. All that was beautiful in nature; all that was fine and
-admirable in art; all that was rich in association, or decorated by
-memories, she eagerly sought and calmly dwelt upon, feeling that they
-were objects which might well give the mind occupation, without
-altogether jarring with the sadder tones which rose continually from
-the heart. It was only society that she avoided: the society of the
-world, which, in reality and truth, is not society at all; for the
-mere herding together of a certain number of human beings, with hardly
-a thought or feeling in common, deserves a very different name. There
-might be, also, a certain portion of apprehension in her thus flying
-from the mixed crowd. She had a sort of presentiment that her uncle
-would seek to force some match upon her, in the idle expectation of
-weaning her heart from a passion which, although it had not lately
-been mentioned between them, she felt convinced he must see traces of
-each day; and as at every instant she felt that her love for Dudley
-could never decay, as she longed to be with him more and more, she was
-anxious to avoid anything which could bring on discussions equally
-painful to herself and to Sir Arthur. Thus their journey had passed in
-visiting many distant scenes, and so far as this could afford
-amusement, Eda had gained something by the continual change; but
-whenever they stopped, the same dark gloom fell upon her, and it
-became the more profound when, at the end of a tour even longer than
-had been at first proposed, they returned to take up their residence
-at Brandon.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur, with the pertinacity which characterised him, and the
-somewhat impenetrable blindness to the character of others, which is
-universal, I believe, in vain and self-sufficient men, still pursued
-his purposes with regard to Eda; and thinking that the opportunities
-of a country residence would be most favourable to his schemes, filled
-the house with gentlemen, each of whom, he thought, might be a
-suitable match for his fair niece, and who were not at all indifferent
-to the advantages of wedding broad lands and well-economised revenues.
-There was a middle-aged peer, and a young and wealthy baronet, and a
-simple esquire, enormously rich in everything but brains, and a
-captain of dragoons, the nephew and presumptive heir to a duke, who,
-to say the truth, was the best of the party, for he was a man of
-feeling, of character, and of thought, a little enthusiastic, indeed,
-in his notions, but whose imagination, in all its flights, soared
-heavenward. He was the only one who even caught Eda's ear for more
-than a moment, and he did so under somewhat curious circumstances, for
-it was neither his abilities, the richness of his fancy, nor the
-generous character of his mind, sparkling through his conversation,
-which attracted her attention. On the contrary, as she saw from the
-first that he sought her society rather eagerly, she was for a time
-inclined to withdraw from him more decidedly than from the others,
-when one day, shortly after his arrival, he said, almost abruptly,
-&quot;Miss Brandon, you are very sad, and I can see that all these people
-tease you. I can divine the cause; but do not class me with them, for
-if you suppose that I have come here with the same views and purposes,
-you are mistaken.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not exactly understand you,&quot; said Eda, gravely, &quot;nor can I admit
-exactly that my uncle's friends do tease me. I am not fond of much
-society, but that is all.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There is one way of explaining what I mean, Miss Brandon,&quot; answered
-the other, &quot;which will make you understand me without referring to
-other men's views. It is by making you a confidant of that which is,
-indeed, a great secret. I am engaged to a lady, whom I love most
-sincerely, and have, indeed, been engaged for more than two years. She
-is not rich, and I am very poor, and we say nothing about our mutual
-understanding, for fear it should give offence to those with whom my
-hopes of fortune rest. I have told you this, because I think it will
-put your mind at ease, so far as I am concerned, and because I wish
-much to speak with you upon another subject, of much interest, which
-may occupy more time than we can now command alone. There, I knew how
-it would be! Here comes Lord Kingsland, to say his soft nothings.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Which I certainly shall not wait to hear,&quot; replied Eda, with a smile.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">This brief conversation had taken place the day before, and now Eda
-sat with an open letter before her, in the hand-writing of her cousin
-Edgar. It was light and cheerful, though not very definite; but there
-were two or three words in it which conveyed to Eda's mind more than
-the general tone seemed to imply. All he said was, &quot;Do not give way to
-melancholy, my sweet cousin. Shake off the gloom which hung upon you
-when you departed, for the melancholy is now without cause, and the
-gloom is very useless. Storm-clouds last but a day or two, Eda; the
-wind is up, and has wafted yours away.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda knew that Edgar would not so have written to her had he not had
-better hopes in store than he ventured to express; and although she
-had shared her uncle's surprise when she first heard that Edgar had
-gone to Australia, she had felt what Sir Arthur had not felt: that he
-had not taken that journey without a powerful motive.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It was the spring of the year; the days had not lengthened much, and
-it was still dark at the dinner hour. Eda had dined in her own room
-the day before, but now she prepared to go down with a lighter heart
-than she had known for long, long months; and ringing for her maid,
-conversed with her from time to time, while she dressed her hair. When
-the girl's task was done, she went down to the housekeeper's room, not
-without having remarked the change in her mistress; and there she told
-her good old fellow-servant, with a shrewd and self-satisfied look.
-&quot;Miss Brandon's getting over it, I can tell you, Mrs. Gregson. The
-captain's to be the man, I'm sure.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">In the mean time, Eda proceeded to the drawing-room with a lightened
-heart, and diversified the ceremonious moments which occur while
-people are waiting for their meal, by damping, if not extinguishing,
-any hopes Sir Arthur's guests might have conceived.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Really, you look resplendent to-night, Miss Brandon,&quot; said the peer,
-seating himself beside her. &quot;The country air seems quite to have
-refreshed you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I trust it may have the same effect upon your lordship in time,&quot;
-replied Eda; and a slight smile that came upon the lips of the young
-dragoon gave more point than she intended to her words.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Lord Kingsland, however, was not so easily driven from his attack, and
-he replied, &quot;Oh! I do not think country air has any effect upon me. I
-am so much accustomed to spend the whole spring in London, that the
-air of the great city at that season of the year agrees with me by
-habit better than that of the country.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I feel very differently about it,&quot; replied Eda. &quot;I should have
-thought, from my own experience, that fifty or sixty springs in London
-would shrivel any one to a mere mummy.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Miss Brandon, Miss Brandon!&quot; exclaimed the peer, with a smile, which
-he intended to be perfectly courteous and good-humoured, but from
-which he could not banish an expression of mortification, &quot;I see the
-air must be detrimental to one's looks, at all events, or you would
-not pile so many years upon my head.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda would fain have apologised and explained, but Lord Kingsland had
-enjoyed enough of her conversation for that evening, and he soon after
-walked away.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man of money next approached, dressed in the very height of the
-fashion, and began speaking of the beauty and fertility of some parts
-of the estate of Brandon, remarking how wide a space it occupied in
-the map which hung in the hall.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is, indeed, of a goodly length and breadth,&quot; replied Eda; &quot;almost
-too extensive to be held by one individual. I am sufficient of a
-politician to think it would be much better if large properties were
-prevented from increasing. Moderate fortunes in the hands of many must
-be better for a country than immense fortunes in the hands of a few.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Very Spartan notions, indeed!&quot; said the young gentleman; &quot;but I dare
-say you would not carry them out in practice.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Undoubtedly,&quot; replied Eda, gaily; &quot;I would prevent any man, having a
-large estate, from acquiring another by any means.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There was no reply to this bold assertion; and the baronet who
-followed seemed likely to call upon himself some as decided an
-expression of opinion, when dinner was announced, and the peer
-exercised his prerogative of taking Miss Brandon into the dining-room.
-The meal passed off tranquilly and stupidly enough, and the pudding
-and tart course was being removed, when a dull, heavy sound, like that
-of a cannon, made the windows rattle in the sashes. Nobody took any
-notice, however, for Mr. Filmer was describing, with powerful
-eloquence, one of the ceremonies of the Romish church, the performance
-of which he and Sir Arthur had witnessed at St. Peter's. At the
-interval of about a minute, however, the same sound was repeated, and
-after another interval the report was heard again.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Those are minute-guns,&quot; said Sir Arthur Adelon. &quot;Some ship got upon
-the Dog-bank, I dare say, and the wind is blowing very high, too.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I saw a very fine large bark just coming round the point,&quot; said Lord
-Kingsland, &quot;while I was taking a stroll upon the downs this evening.
-Probably it is her guns we hear, for there was no other vessel in
-sight.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;She must have passed the Dog, then, far,&quot; said Mr. Filmer, &quot;and has
-probably run upon the spit beyond Beach-rock. The wind sets thence, so
-that we should hear the guns as clearly as we do now.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;More likely she has gone bump upon the shore,&quot; said Sir Arthur, &quot;or
-the low reefs which lie two or three hundred yards out. She would try
-to hug the land as close as possible, to get into the bay, and avoid
-the fury of the gale.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">While these words were spoken on all parts, several more guns were
-distinctly heard; and Eda, rising, with her face very pale, as the
-first dishes of the dessert were set upon the table, retired, saying,
-&quot;I will send out some of the servants, my dear uncle. They may,
-perhaps, give the fishermen some help in case of need.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They will never arrive in time, my love,&quot; replied Sir Arthur, &quot;if the
-ship has got ashore. It must be fully twelve miles up to the spit, or
-more; but do as you like.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will certainly send, if you have no objection,&quot; replied Eda. &quot;The
-men may aid to save a human life, and a walk or ride of twelve miles
-is nothing in comparison.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Retiring into the drawing-room, Eda immediately rang the bell, and
-ordered as many of the servants as could be spared, to get upon
-horseback, and ride on as fast as possible in the direction from which
-the sound of the guns seemed to proceed. Her orders were clear, calm,
-and distinct, although her pale face and her trembling hand seemed to
-show that she was greatly agitated. &quot;Call all the country people as
-you go,&quot; she said; &quot;and tell them to hurry down to give assistance
-with whatever their experience of the coast may lead them to think is
-necessary. I know,&quot; she continued, &quot;that the salvation of human life
-is not rewarded by the law or by government, while enormous rewards
-follow the saving of property; but tell the men that I will give ten
-guineas for every life that is saved by their exertions.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ten guineas, ma'am?&quot; said the butler, to whom she spoke. &quot;That is a
-great deal.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ten guineas, or more,&quot; replied Eda, in a firm tone, &quot;if it be
-necessary to quicken their efforts. Now, make haste.&quot; And lifting her
-eyes to the door, she perceived that the young captain of dragoons was
-standing just upon the nearer side of the threshold. She coloured a
-little as she saw him, for real enthusiasts have generally a certain
-degree of shyness with them; but as soon as she had ceased speaking
-the officer advanced, saying, &quot;I will go with the men, Miss Brandon.
-They need somebody to lead and to direct, and I am not unaccustomed to
-such transactions. Hark! the guns seem to have ceased, but that is no
-sign that the poor souls are out of danger, and I will set out
-directly.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will not thank you, Captain M----,&quot; said Eda Brandon, &quot;for I have
-no personal interest in these poor people; but your own heart will
-thank you, and God will bless you for your readiness on this
-occasion.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He left her and departed; and Eda sat in solitude, with her head
-resting on her hand, for nearly half an hour, with feelings which it
-would be very difficult to describe, for they were sensations for
-which no reasonable cause could be assigned; phantom fears, which
-seemed to rise out of the depth of night, unevoked by anything more
-tangible than themselves. At length she was joined by the rest of the
-party, and strove to maintain a tranquil and equal demeanour, although
-the utter indifference she saw around her to the fate of a number of
-human beings perishing, perhaps, within a few miles, rather tended to
-increase than to diminish the agitation which she felt. Mr. Filmer sat
-down to play at chess with the younger baronet, and beat him most
-signally, giving him a piece. Sir Arthur and Lord Kingsland played at
-piquet; and she was left to the tender mercies of the rich young
-commoner, who entertained her with an account of graperies and
-pine-pits, gave her a lecture upon the horticultural gardens, and was
-even deviating into some account of stock and piggeries, when Eda
-herself turned the conversation. Eleven o'clock arrived, and nobody,
-appeared, but Eda made no movement to go. The chessmen were by this
-time discarded; three games of piquet had been played, and Sir Arthur
-had rung for wine and water, when Captain M---- entered with a calm
-and easy air, and walking up at once to Eda, without taking the least
-notice of any one else, he said, in a low tone, &quot;There is some one in
-the library who will be glad to see you, and whom you will be glad to
-see. Do not agitate yourself,&quot; he continued, seeing that she trembled
-very much, &quot;all is safe.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">But before I proceed to relate what followed, I must notice the events
-which had taken place between the time at which Captain M---- set out
-on his expedition and that at which he returned.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">The night was very dark, and, blowing a gale of wind. The blast was
-not, indeed, directly upon the shore at the point of the coast nearest
-to Brandon; but about seven miles to the eastward, the line of the
-land took a bend towards the south, forming a low shingly beach, with
-a spit of sand running out into the sea, for full half a mile beyond
-the southernmost point of the cliffs, and against this shingly beach
-the gale blew hard and direct. The distance from Brandon house to the
-sea, in a straight line, was less than two miles; but Captain
-M----, followed by five or six servants, took his way across the
-country towards that part of the coast on which he judged the ship
-must have stranded. Riding on rapidly, he arrived, in about three
-quarters of an hour, at a village some nine miles from Brandon; and
-calling at one or two of the houses, he found that all the men, warned
-by the signals of distress, had gone down to the shore to give
-assistance. He learned, too, some farther particulars of the disaster
-which had occurred, and the exact spot where it had taken place.
-Pushing on without farther pause, then, he rode through the little
-village, where, as may be remembered, Edgar Adelon obtained his first
-interview with Martin Oldkirk; and issuing forth at the farther end,
-he soon after came upon the sea-shore, where a lighted tar-barrel and
-several links shed a red glare over a terrible scene, which was also,
-from time to time, partially illuminated by glimpses of the moon, as
-the gray clouds, hurrying rapidly past, left her bright face visible
-for a moment, and then concealed it again beneath their swarthy veil.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A tall and beautiful vessel appeared aground at the distance of less
-than a hundred yards from the beach. The masts were all still
-standing, and the fine tracery of the rigging, partially seen by the
-lights upon the shore, was now and then rendered completely visible
-when the moonlight broke forth behind for a moment, and brightened the
-stormy sky. Around the burning tar-barrel were several groups of men,
-with some women and children; and farther down upon the beach, even
-amidst the spray and foam, were others, one of whom held up a link,
-half extinguished by the dashing waves. An awful surf was falling in
-thunder upon the shore; and each mountain wave, as it rolled up,
-struck the unfortunate vessel on the stern and windward side, making a
-clear breach over her as she heeled towards the beach. When the moon
-was hidden, only the bow and the fore-mast could be seen by the lights
-on the shore, the rest of the ship being enveloped in darkness, except
-where the white surf rushed pouring over the hull, and sprang
-glittering up amongst the cordage; but when the momentary moon shone
-out, the shrouds, the tops, and many parts of the rigging, were seen
-loaded with human beings, striving in agony to postpone the fate which
-seemed ready to fall upon them. There were shrieks and cries for help,
-and loud shouts of direction and command; but all were so mingled with
-the noise of the rushing wind, and the thunder of the billows upon the
-shore, that everything was indistinct, rising in one loud screaming
-roar to the spot at which the young officer had arrived.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Drawing in his horse, he paused to gaze for a moment and consider what
-was expedient to be done; and at the same moment he perceived some of
-the men, with that gallant and intrepid daring which characterises the
-boatmen on the English coast, endeavouring to launch a boat a little
-to windward of the stranded ship. With a loud cheer they pushed her
-down into the water as a wave receded, and with a tremendous effort
-were shoving her off, when again the billows returned with a furious
-sweep, capsized her in a moment, and nothing was seen for several
-seconds but the figures of the men struggling in the surf, and the
-black hull of the boat surrounded by the whirling eddies of the
-retiring wave. For a moment it seemed as if several of the gallant
-fellows would be lost; but some clung to the boat, others scrambled
-back to the shore, and one, who was carried out, striking hard for
-life, was caught by another wave, and dashed back again, bleeding and
-almost senseless, on the beach.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Springing to the ground with several of the servants, Captain
-M---- hurried down to the principal group upon the beach, and put one
-or two questions, the import of which not being clearly seen at first
-by the men he addressed, they answered somewhat sullenly.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;My good sir,&quot; he said, speaking to a large, square-built man of the
-middle age, who seemed to be one of the principal boatmen, &quot;I have
-been accustomed to these things, and aided to save many lives on a
-worse coast than this. The same means may prove effectual here, but we
-must have recourse to them immediately, or the ship will be a complete
-wreck.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;In two hours there won't be one of her timbers together,&quot; answered
-the man, dully.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then the more need to get the people off her at once,&quot; said Captain
-M----.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay, if you can do it,&quot; said the boatman, turning away.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Stay a moment,&quot; cried the young officer, in a tone of command. &quot;Has
-any one got a gun with a large bore, and a good long hank of stout but
-thin cord?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The object seemed to strike the man instantly, and turning sharply
-round, he laid his broad hand upon the young officer's shoulder,
-exclaiming, with an oath, &quot;That's a good thought! There's my large
-duck-gun will do capitally; and as for a cord, you can't have anything
-better than one of our fish-lines. It's both light and strong.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">All was changed in a moment; the efforts of the crowd were turned in a
-different direction; hope seemed to revive; a number of fishing-lines
-were brought forth, the heavy gun was placed in Captain M----'s hands,
-powder was procured, a bullet pierced and attached to one end of the
-strong cord, while the other end was fastened tightly to a thick rope.
-Every one aided; and Captain M---- having charged the piece, advanced
-as far as he could down to the beach, so that the waves, as they
-flowed up, reached his knees, and then prepared to fire. Before he did
-so, however, he turned to those behind him, saying, &quot;We shall have to
-try several times before we succeed, so do not be disappointed if the
-first shot fails.&quot; Then elevating the gun, he pulled the trigger; in
-the hope that the bullet would carry the line over the rigging of the
-ship. As he had foreseen, however, the first attempt was unsuccessful.
-The sudden explosion of the powder broke the line before the bullet
-had got a foot from the mouth of the gun.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We must have less powder and a smaller ball;&quot; said the young officer.
-&quot;Some one cut a piece out of my glove here to wrap it in. Perhaps we
-shall succeed better this time.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Nor was he disappointed; the ball carried the line clear over the
-ship, between the main and fore masts, and fell into the sea some way
-beyond. The unhappy voyagers seemed to have comprehended the efforts
-made for their safety, and had watched with eager eyes and in profound
-silence everything that was done. Not a word, not a cry was uttered
-from the moment the first shot was fired; and even when the second and
-more successful attempt was made, they were all silent still, for the
-line was so fine they did not perceive that the efforts of their
-friends on shore had been successful till the gestures of the crowd,
-rather than the voice of one of the boatmen, speaking through a
-trumpet, drew the attention of a sailor to the spot where the line had
-fallen. The directions were then given to run it through a pulley, and
-gently haul up the rope, and this being accomplished, the rope was
-made fast at both ends, and a means of communication, however frail,
-established with the shore.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A shout of joy burst forth from the people of the ship, and a loud
-cheer answered it from the beach.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There were many difficulties still to be overcome, however; for as the
-ship rocked to and fro when the waves struck her, there was a great
-chance of the rope snapping, especially if burdened with the weight of
-a man; but the son of one of the boatmen, a lad of about thirteen
-years of age, volunteered to try the dangerous path, with a light
-hawser made fast round his middle. Slowly and with difficulty he
-pursued his way, holding on both by hands and feet; but his perilous
-task was at length accomplished, and as soon as the hawser was firmly
-fixed, he returned to the shore, bringing back the end of the rope
-first sent, which had been passed through a pulley, so as to play
-easily.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Several of the men then came over from the ship without much
-difficulty; but this method was so slow, that Captain M---- proposed
-another plan, which was immediately adopted when it was found that
-there were a number of women and children in the bark. One of the
-sails of a small lugger was detached from the yard, and the corners
-being gathered together and made quite secure, it was slung upon the
-hawser, and connected with the rope passed through the pulley. It was
-thus easily moved backwards and forwards between the ship and the
-shore. Two, and sometimes three people, were brought to land at once;
-and joy and satisfaction displayed itself in every form and shape
-amongst those who were rescued from the grave.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">During the whole time that these operations had been proceeding, two
-men were seen standing together in the fore-top, who, though they had
-busied themselves and assisted greatly in fastening the hawser and in
-passing the ropes, showed no anxiety to save themselves; aiding,
-indeed, to put the women and children into the sail, but remaining
-perfectly calm and motionless while the others passed to the shore.
-There was something in their manner and appearance which struck
-Captain M---- not a little, and advancing to one of the persons who
-had first come over, he inquired who those two persons were.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They are passengers from Sidney, sir,&quot; replied the man; &quot;perfect
-gentlemen both of them, and two brave fellows as ever lived; for if it
-had not been for them, we should have all lost heart long ago.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">While he was speaking, some of the men who remained on board seemed by
-their gestures to urge the two gentlemen to go over; and the shorter
-of the two, taking a child in his arms from one of the sailors--it was
-the only child left--stepped into the sail, and holding fast by the
-rope above, was speedily drawn to land. A woman, who had been brought
-across some time before, with two other children, now rushed almost
-down into the sea when this new freight approached, as if afraid the
-man would drop the child. But the young gentleman--for he seemed very
-young, and was evidently of a superior class--placed the little boy
-safely in her arms, saying, &quot;He is quite safe and warm.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The woman prayed God to bless him; but at the same moment his hand was
-taken by Captain M----, and shaken heartily, while one of the servants
-exclaimed, &quot;Mr. Adelon!--hurrah! hurrah!&quot; and half the people on the
-beach took up the cry, and waved their hats joyfully. But Captain
-M---- and Edgar Adelon were speaking together eagerly and in a low
-voice, while the latter pointed once or twice to the fore-top of the
-stranded vessel, as if explaining to his friend that some one whom
-they both knew was there. Several other persons then landed, so that
-the number on the shore amounted to nearly sixty, besides the
-inhabitants of the neighbouring huts and villages. Amongst the last
-who appeared was Edward Dudley, and he was warmly greeted by Captain
-M----, though his appearance now, it must be remarked, notwithstanding
-his being somewhat worn and tempest-tossed, was very different from
-that of the Nameless Fisherman by the Nameless Lake.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The servants of Sir Arthur Adelon were standing at some distance while
-their young master spoke with Captain M----; and Dudley, taking the
-arm of the latter, walked slowly away with him up the beach, and out
-of the light of the fire; but Edgar turned to speak a few minutes to
-his fellow-travellers, giving kind and liberal orders for their
-comfort and accommodation.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not wish,&quot; said Dudley, addressing Captain M----, &quot;to be
-recognised just at present. I will choose my own time and my own
-manner; and you may, doubtless, divine the reasons, as I know you have
-been made acquainted with a considerable portion of my history.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I can easily conceive,&quot; replied Captain M----, &quot;that you have a great
-many painful and unpleasant things to go through, which you would
-desire to do in your own way; but I congratulate you most sincerely,
-Mr. Dudley, not alone upon your salvation this night, but upon your
-restoration to your country and your friends, your property and your
-reputation. I trust this storm will be the last you will have to
-encounter.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;God only knows!&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;but for the future, my dear sir, I
-shall be less apt than in earlier years to give way either to hope or
-to despair.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Hope is the best of the two,&quot; replied the young officer, in a lighter
-tone. &quot;It comes from heaven, and is an ingredient, more or less, in
-everything that is good, and high, and holy. The other comes from
-below, leading to all that is evil, and dark, and disastrous. Choose
-hope, then, my good friend. But here comes some one quickly after us.
-I trust none of the men are much injured?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;None of the survivors,&quot; answered Dudley, gravely; &quot;but twenty or
-thirty perished when the ship first struck.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Adelon sent me, sir,&quot; said a rough, but not unpleasant voice, &quot;to
-show one of you two gentlemen the way to my cottage. It is the
-gentleman who was on the wreck,&quot; he continued, looking at Dudley, who
-said, in reply, that he was willing to go wherever the other should
-lead.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then I will leave you now,&quot; said Captain M----, in a low voice, &quot;and
-your secret is perfectly safe with me, depend upon it; but I trust
-that we shall meet again before I depart for London, and if not here,
-in the great city.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will certainly find you out,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;for the scene and
-the circumstances in which we first met are never to be obliterated
-from memory, nor the kindness with which you soothed and relieved, at
-a moment when I thought there was none to help.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">They then parted; and after taking a few steps forward with the stout,
-broad-set countryman who had been sent up to him, Dudley inquired how
-far they were from Brandon.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Hard upon eleven miles, sir,&quot; replied the man.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then the place where we run ashore must be what they call Beachrock
-Spit, I suppose?&quot; rejoined Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Just so, sir,&quot; said the man; &quot;the rock that names it is about two
-miles farther on, t'other side of the spit, as we call it; but the
-village is up hard by, not above a quarter of a mile inland.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Do you know a man of the name of Martin Oldkirk?&quot; asked Dudley, after
-advancing a few paces farther. &quot;He must live in that village, I
-think.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I know him, sir,&quot; answered the countryman, abruptly. &quot;What do
-you want with him?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I want some conversation with him,&quot; answered Dudley. &quot;I bring him
-some news of distant friends, and had, indeed, brought him a letter;
-but that, with all the rest of my baggage, is in the unfortunate ship,
-which will be a total wreck before to-morrow.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I'm sorry for that, sir,&quot; said his companion; &quot;for, to tell you the
-truth, I am Martin Oldkirk myself, so you may speak away as fast as
-you please.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;By and bye will do,&quot; answered Dudley, &quot;for I shall be very glad,
-Oldkirk, if you can let me lodge in your cottage for a night or two.
-At all events, you will allow me to dry my clothes there, and while
-that is doing, we can talk of other things.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I should be very happy to lodge you, sir,&quot; replied the man, in a
-civil tone; &quot;but, Lord bless you, sir! it is not fit for such as you;
-and besides, there's but one bed and a bare bedstead in the place.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The bare bedstead will do well enough for me,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;at
-least for the present; and to-morrow, perhaps, you will be able to
-procure me something else. Doubtless to-night every house and every
-bed in the place will have more than its fair share of occupants.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We may be quite sure of that,&quot; answered Martin Oldkirk; &quot;but I can
-get you some good hay and a clean pair of sheets, and that, with
-plenty of coats and things to keep you warm, will be better lodging
-than where you were like to have lodged an hour or two ago.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is true,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;and I should be a fool to grumble.
-You know a certain Mr. Norries, Oldkirk, do you not?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That I do,&quot; cried the man, with a start. &quot;Poor gentleman, I am sorry
-for him! He deserved better, but he might have got worse; and one
-thing will always make his heart light. He never betrayed any one,
-though he might have got off himself if he had peached against others.
-But he always was an upright man, and readier to hurt himself than any
-one else. But I can't help thinking of him often, and how hard it is
-that he should be out there working like a galley-slave, when he only
-wished to free his country. I dare say he's very sad-like, isn't he,
-sir? For I take it, you come from that place, don't you?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Make your mind easy about his fate,&quot; answered Dudley, &quot;for he was
-well and happy when I saw him, And would not, I believe, come back to
-England, even if they would let him. He is under no restraint either,
-except that he cannot return from banishment.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay, they will find out what a man they've lost,&quot; answered Oldkirk. &quot;I
-should have liked to have seen his hand-writing once again, however;
-but here we are just at the cottage, and I will blow you up a fire in
-a minute, and then run and get some things that you may want. A glass
-of brandy-and-water wouldn't be amiss, nor against Father Mathew
-either; for I am quite sure that the doctor would order it for you,
-after having gone through such a business.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I'm accustomed to privation in storm and tempest,&quot; answered Dudley,
-entering the cottage; &quot;so do not give yourself much trouble about
-provisions, my good friend,&quot; But, for some reason or another, Martin
-Oldkirk, though as we have seen, not given at all times to very
-intense courtesy, was determined to do the best he could to make his
-guest comfortable; and having blown the smouldering embers of his fire
-into a blaze, and piled on a quantity of mingled coal and wood, he
-went out again upon his hospitable errand.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley took off his coat and waistcoat to dry them at the fire, and
-drawing a pocket-book from the pocket of the former, examined the
-papers which it contained carefully, to ascertain that they had not
-been injured by the sea-water, the spray of the waves having dashed
-over him for several hours. The leathern cover of the book was
-completely wet, but the contents were safe enough; and after seeing
-that some documents, apparently official, were all uninjured, he read
-over by a candle, which his host had lighted, some memoranda written
-in a clear clerk-like hand.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay, if he will answer me,&quot; he said, commenting as he read; &quot;but I
-doubt the fact. It is most unfortunate the loss of my baggage. It
-cannot be helped, however; and after all, it is not vengeance I seek.
-Nevertheless, the power to thwart this man's evil schemes were
-something;&quot; and sitting down by the fire-side, he fell into thoughts
-from which he was roused, in about twenty minutes, by the sudden
-lifting of the latch of the door, and the entrance of Edgar Adelon
-&quot;and Captain M----.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They are all safe,&quot; said Edgar. &quot;And now, what will you do, Dudley? I
-shall ride on to Brandon at once.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And I will remain here, Edgar,&quot; replied the other, &quot;if you are quite
-sure that none of the servants recognised me. I remembered the
-butler's face at once.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not believe that any one saw you,&quot; replied Edgar; &quot;and I suppose
-the best plan will be to act in the manner that was previously
-arranged; for our shipwreck here,&quot; he added, with a smile, &quot;has merely
-landed us a hundred miles nearer Brandon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The only thing,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;that is necessary, is not to
-mention to any one my return to England, till I have time to arrange
-all my plans; nor, indeed, to say that you have met with me at all, or
-heard anything concerning me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But, Eda,&quot; said the young gentleman; &quot;what to her, Dudley?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! tell her, of course,&quot; replied his friend. &quot;I would not keep her
-in unnecessary suspense for a moment; and she will see the necessity
-of her acting differently towards others.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A slight smile came upon the lip of Captain M---- as he heard their
-conversation. &quot;I do not know whether you are aware,&quot; he said, &quot;that
-there are a good many guests at Brandon: reputed suitors of the young
-lady. Indeed, it is more like the hall of Ulysses during his absence
-than anything else. But I suppose,&quot; he continued, with a gay glance
-towards Dudley, &quot;the wandering king of Ithaca will some day soon
-return to claim his own, and drive these daring mortals from the
-gates.&quot; His words did not cheer Dudley, for there were still too many
-difficulties in his path, too many painful circumstances in his
-situation, for anything like gay hope to brighten the cloudy aspect of
-his fate; and as he did not himself reply, Edgar reverted to what they
-had been speaking of before, and said, &quot;Well, I will ride on then at
-once, and I suppose I shall hear from you as to farther proceedings.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! yes; I shall easily find a messenger,&quot; replied Dudley; and once
-more shaking hands warmly with Captain M----, he saw him and his
-companion depart.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Little delay was made upon the road by Captain M---- and Edgar Adelon,
-although the latter had a strong inclination to choose the right-hand
-road, where it parted from the high-way to Barhampton, leading direct
-to Clive Grange. He refrained, however, remembering that his father
-must know of the wreck, and might hear that he was on board. On
-arriving at Brandon House, the tranquil aspect of all things, and the
-servant's reply that Sir Arthur was playing at piquet, showed him that
-no great anxiety on his account had found its way into his father's
-bosom; and consequently proceeding to the library himself, he
-requested Captain M---- to send Eda to him, as we have seen he did.
-The moment she appeared he took her in his arms and kissed her with
-fraternal affection, saying, &quot;I have just escaped death, dearest Eda,
-and I wanted to see you before I see any one else, for I have good
-news for you. Dudley is well, is here in England, and has received a
-full pardon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda turned very pale, pressed her hand upon her heart, and grasped the
-arm of a chair for support. &quot;Stay, stay, Edgar,&quot; she said, &quot;do not
-tell me too much at once. A full pardon, do you say? But still the
-stain will remain upon his name.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar drew back a step, and gazed at her gravely, almost sternly. &quot;And
-would that make any difference to you, Eda, when you knew him, when
-you felt him, to be innocent?&quot; he demanded.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda waved her hand, with a look of reproach. &quot;None, Edgar, none!&quot; she
-answered. &quot;You cannot suppose such a thing for a moment; but it will
-make a great difference to him. I know Dudley well, and I feel sure
-that these events will cast a shadow over his whole life, if his
-innocence cannot be clearly established. But yet, I will not regret
-it,&quot; she cried, rising with, a brighter look, and laying her hand upon
-her cousin's arm. &quot;It will give me the means, dear Edgar, of proving
-to him what devotion and attachment a woman's heart is capable of. The
-vision of my young love, when first he and I knew each other, now
-eight years ago, will now indeed be realized. I thought then how happy
-it would make me to show such a man as that, that no circumstances of
-fortune, no inducements, no unworthy obstacles, could affect in the
-slightest degree my attachment, when once given upon just and
-reasonable grounds. Now I can prove it to him all, and I am ready to
-prove it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am sorry, dear girl, to dispel your visions of devotion,&quot; answered
-Edgar, gaily; &quot;but here, though you can make him as happy as man need
-be, by giving him your fair hand and your true heart, you cannot cheer
-him under the doubt and suspicion of the world, for from that he is
-now quite cleared. His pardon was not granted till his innocence was
-proved beyond a doubt, by the acknowledgment of him who did the deed
-for which he has been so great a sufferer; and be assured that he will
-not rest satisfied until, by act of parliament, his condemnation is
-reversed. I will tell you more hereafter, dear cousin; and now I will
-go and see if I can find fitter clothes to appear in this smart house;
-for during the last year and a half I have been much more accustomed
-to sit in ships' cabins, or to range wild woods, than to take my place
-in a gay drawing-room. But remember, Eda, not one word of Dudley's
-return nor of his pardon. There is much to be done and thought of.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda would fain have had some explanations regarding the wreck of the
-vessel which brought her cousin over, but Edgar answered gaily, &quot;I
-will tell all that to the assembled multitude in the drawing-room;&quot;
-and then he, in turn, asked questions about Clive Grange, and its
-inhabitants; but Eda replied in the same tone in which he had spoken,
-&quot;I will tell you all that to-morrow, Edgar. You cannot see Helen
-to-night, nor, indeed, to-morrow either, for she and Mr. Clive are
-both absent, I find, and do not return till the end of the week.&quot; With
-that they parted.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">About an hour and a half after Edgar had left him, Dudley was seated
-with Martin Oldkirk at a very homely meal; but it was good, though
-plain, and the gentleman had shared, or rather more than shared, with
-his companion, the small portion of brandy which the labouring man had
-brought. Either Dudley's spirits had risen, or he had assumed a
-greater degree of cheerfulness than he really felt. He was by nature
-frank and free, as the good old English term goes, although early
-misfortunes had, as we have shown in his room at Cambridge, given a
-thoughtful cast to an imaginative mind. If, occasionally, he seemed a
-little proud or haughty, it was with his equals or his superiors in
-rank, where a feeling that impaired circumstances in himself might
-generate a sense of condescension in them, induced him, by a certain
-coldness of manner, to repel that vainest form of pride. With those
-inferior to him, his manner was very different. Calm, easy, certain of
-his own position and of their estimation of it, he ran no chance of
-offending by too great familiarity, or of checking by too great
-reserve. He was well aware that the lower classes are much keener
-observers than the general world gives them credit for being, and that
-their estimation of their superiors in station is generally founded on
-much more just grounds than those on which men who are accustomed to
-judge by mere conventional standards too frequently rely.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Oldkirk had become easy in his society, and their conversation, though
-not, perhaps, exactly gay, was cheerful and interesting. Dudley
-described the house that Norries had built for himself, his habits,
-his manners of life, the difficulties, the dangers, the pleasures, and
-the wild freedom of an Australian settler; and Martin Oldkirk
-questioned, and talked, and discussed, as if his companion had been an
-old friend. They put their feet to the fire, they gazed into the
-glowing embers; they leaned on either side of the table in meditative
-chat, and the high-born, high-bred gentleman felt that he was speaking
-with a man of considerable natural powers, who, though uncultivated,
-was not ignorant, and though not always courteous, rarely actually
-vulgar.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">At length Dudley drew out his pocket-book, and taking forth the
-memoranda which he had previously examined, looked over them for a
-moment, and then inquired, in an ordinary tone, &quot;Pray did you ever
-know a person of the name of Filmer--Peter Filmer?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man started from his seat as if he had been struck; his whole
-countenance worked, his lips quivered, his brow contracted, and his
-sharp eyes fixed upon Dudley, with a fierce and angry stare. It seemed
-as if he were deprived of the power of utterance, for though his under
-jaw moved, as if he would have spoken, he spoke not, but struck the
-table a hard blow with his clenched fist.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What is the matter?&quot; exclaimed Dudley. &quot;I did not intend to agitate
-you in this manner. I had no idea that such simple words could produce
-such emotion.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Martin Oldkirk cast himself down again upon the settle from which he
-had risen, pressing his hands upon his eyes; and when Dudley added a
-few words more, he exclaimed, in a loud, harsh voice, &quot;Hold your
-tongue, hold your tongue! you have named a fiend, and you have raised
-one!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I did not intend it, I can assure you,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;let us speak
-of something else.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No!&quot; cried the man, &quot;I can neither speak nor think of anything else
-now that name is mentioned. Let me look at that paper; let me see what
-is put down there.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have no objection,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;but if it is to agitate you
-thus, you had really a great deal better forbear.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man did not answer, but stretched forth his hand; and Dudley gave
-him the paper. He then laid it down before him, drew the single candle
-closer to him, and supporting his broad forehead with his clasped
-hands, and leaning his elbows on the board, gazed upon the memoranda
-with a haggard and staring eye. He remained in the same position for
-fully ten minutes, without uttering one word, and then, pushing the
-paper across to Dudley, he said, in a much calmer tone, &quot;That is Mr.
-Norries's writing?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;but I am quite sure he had no idea the
-questions he had there put down for me to ask would agitate you so
-terribly!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He should have known! he should have known!&quot; said Martin Oldkirk,
-with stern bitterness; &quot;but it matters not. I shall have recovered
-myself before tomorrow morning, and we will then talk more--but yet,
-tell me first, what have you to do with this man? This, this----&quot; but
-it seemed he could not utter the word, and after breaking off the
-sentence abruptly, he added, &quot;Have you ever seen him? Do you know
-him?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have seen him, do know him,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;and I have every
-reason to believe that he has endeavoured to injure me most basely.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley paused, and thought for a moment or two, and then added, &quot;I had
-better, perhaps, tell you how; for you had some share in the
-business.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I?--I?&quot; exclaimed Martin Oldkirk. &quot;What had I to do between you and
-him? I have not seen him for many long years. I knew Sir Arthur Adelon
-was here, it is true, and I kept out of his way; but the priest is not
-with him surely.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The priest is with him,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;and has never left him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! yes he did; yes he did!&quot; replied the peasant; &quot;he was away two
-whole years, I know. I thought he had gone to do penance, as he would
-call it, and would never appear in the world again. Had he done so,
-had he wept in solitude and silence for the whole of his bad career, I
-might have forgotten it: no, not forgotten it! forgiven, perhaps, but
-forgot it, never! He is here, then, here in this country; here in the
-baronet's house?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot exactly say that,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;for I do not know, and
-I would not deceive you on any account; but he was here two years ago,
-rather more, perhaps, for it was in the autumn; and he did all he
-could to injure me, though life or death were at stake.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay, that is strange,&quot; said Martin Oldkirk. &quot;Pray, may I ask what is
-your name, sir, for that is a thing I do not know even yet?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;My name is Dudley,&quot; replied his companion; &quot;and you may perhaps
-remember----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, then, you are the man who was tried and cast for the death of
-the young lord over the cliffs?&quot; said Martin Oldkirk, interrupting
-him.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The same,&quot; answered Dudley. &quot;I was tried and condemned for an act
-with which I had nothing to do. Of Father Filmer, I have seen little
-or nothing, except when he came to visit me in prison, and tried to
-convert me to the Roman Catholic faith.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! he never lost sight of that,&quot; answered Oldkirk; &quot;but still, what
-had he to do with you?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, you shall hear,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;only let me tell my tale to
-the conclusion. Do you remember one night when Mr. Adelon came to
-visit you, and when you gave him a good deal of assistance?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, yes! I remember it very well,&quot; answered the man. &quot;I thought, at
-first, there was some trick, and I would not say much; but I soon got
-sure of my man, and then I was willing enough to do anything I could
-for him, for I thought of his mother, poor young man. It's a pity I
-couldn't do more; but I fancied that Mr. Norries would know how to
-manage.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Norries knew little of the matter till it all transpired long
-afterwards,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;but now, as a friend, Mr. Norries wishes
-me to possess such information as to frustrate the schemes of this Mr.
-Filmer, and he know no one better to whom he could send me than
-yourself.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I should like to see the letter,&quot; said Martin Oldkirk.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am afraid that cannot well be,&quot; replied Mr. Dudley; &quot;my baggage, as
-I told you, is by this time, doubtless, at the bottom of the sea; but
-you know Mr. Norries's hand-writing, and you cannot doubt that those
-memoranda were put down by him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That's true, that's true!&quot; said the man; &quot;but still I should like to
-see the letter. However, don't let us talk any more of things which
-are so long gone. I will give you an answer to-morrow, when I have
-thought over it. In the mean time, I should like very much to hear
-what the matter was all about two years ago. I recollect the trial
-very well, and Mr. Adelon coming to me in search of information. I
-gave him a rudish sort of answer at first; but he was so frank and so
-desperate-like, that I could not well refuse; and in the end I went
-with him to Norries, but I cannot see how this hypocritical priest had
-anything to do with that.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What object, and interest he could have, I know not,&quot; answered
-Dudley, who was a little puzzled with the rambling and desultory
-manner in which his companion spoke. &quot;All I can tell you is what he
-actually did, and of that Mr. Adelon says he has no doubt. In the
-first place, when Edgar went to meet you the second time, he saw you
-at the old workhouse of a place the name of which I forget. He was
-followed secretly, by Mr. Filmer's order, by a little boy, who was
-directed, immediately he discovered the place he entered, to give
-information to the constable of the hundred, who was already warned to
-seize Mr. Adelon and any one whom he had with him, on the pretence of
-his companions having been engaged in the Chartist riots.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay, I broke master constable's head for his pains,&quot; said Oldkirk. &quot;Go
-on, sir.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He then deceived Mr. Adelon as to the time of my trial,&quot; continued
-Dudley; &quot;and subsequently the same man gave intimation to a
-blacksmith, named Edward Lane, who could have borne important
-testimony, that the officers of justice were seeking for him. This
-priest also persuaded Mr. Clive and his daughter, who could have
-proved my innocence at once, and who have proved it since, to fly from
-England, and induced a man, named Daniel Connor, to give evidence
-which approached as near perjury as possible.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He hated you heartily,&quot; said Martin Oldkirk, setting his teeth hard;
-&quot;and he cannot hate without seeking to destroy.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;For some reason, he certainly does seem to hate me,&quot; replied Dudley;
-&quot;and whether he has power to injure me farther or not, I cannot tell;
-but at all events, it is the opinion of both Mr. Adelon and myself,
-that he will try to do so, and that, perhaps, in matters which most
-deeply affect my welfare. Mr. Norries, with whom I consulted, told me
-to ask you for some particulars of this priest's previous life, which
-he thought would open the eyes of Sir Arthur Adelon to the man's real
-character.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Puppies are only blind nine days,&quot; replied Oldkirk, with a bitter
-smile. &quot;Sir Arthur Adelon has been blind for twenty years. You will
-find it a hard matter to open his eyes. Did his son tell him what the
-priest had done in your case?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; answered Dudley, &quot;he did not, on many accounts. For some weeks
-after my condemnation Edgar was very ill, and then he only arrived at
-the whole truth by degrees. He proposes now to do so, however, and I
-wish to strengthen the case against this man by any previous
-circumstances which may tend to show his false and deceitful
-character.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Do not tell it to Sir Arthur when alone,&quot; said Oldkirk, musing while
-he spoke. &quot;He is too weak to retain a deep impression long; he may
-believe a part of what you say at first, but his inclination will be,
-not to believe, and if his own better judgment and convictions are not
-backed up by those of others, they will soon fall and be forgotten. I
-have seen it so myself. As to the rest, I will think over it, sir, and
-see what can be done. It is many a year since I heard that bitter
-name, and it has raised feelings in me which I had hoped and thought
-were dead. I will try to get quieter before to-morrow. I did not know
-the viper was so near me, or I might have tried to crush his brains
-out before now. I knew that Sir Arthur was here a great deal, but him
-I have never seen but once, and that at a distance. The son I saw many
-times, for he rode much about the country, and I used to think how
-much like his poor mother he was, but I never spoke to him till he
-came that night to see me, for I did not wish to have anything more to
-do with them.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Did no one ever tell you that they had a priest with them?&quot; asked
-Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! yes, I heard that,&quot; replied Martin Oldkirk; &quot;but there are many
-priests in Rome, and I knew that this man had been away for a long
-while after poor Lady Adelon's death; so I never thought it was the
-same. Did Mr. Norries tell you to ask me for anything more?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;he said you have charge of certain papers
-belonging to me.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They were given me by Norries,&quot; replied Oldkirk; &quot;and I certainly
-shan't give them to any one without his orders.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps you are right,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;and to tell you the truth, I
-care very little about them, for they only serve to prove a fact which
-I have long known: that strong passions take as inveterate a hold of
-weak minds as of more powerful minds. They might, indeed, give me some
-little authority and influence where it may be needful, but that is
-all.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Strike at Filmer, strike at Filmer!&quot; said Martin Oldkirk, sharply;
-&quot;and be you sure, sir, that man has nourished in the baronet every
-evil plant, till it has produced evil fruit. But remember, whatever
-you do, do it before plenty of witnesses. Take some public room, some
-crowd, some general meeting, and tax him there with all his
-wickedness. Unmask him before multitudes, and make him a scoff and a
-byword for ever. But now, sir, it is late; you must be tired enough,
-and we shall have many things to talk of to-morrow. It is my way, when
-anything moves me a great deal, to lie down and sleep. I sleep like a
-stone when I am much moved; and then I get up with my thoughts fresh
-and clear. I have made you up the best bed I can, and I dare say
-weariness will be as good as a feather pillow. Wait, I will light you
-another candle; I dare say, now, you never sat with a single one
-before.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have sat through long nights with none,&quot; replied Dudley. &quot;You
-forget, my good friend, what it is to be a convict in a penal colony,
-and cannot know what it is to be an escaped convict in the midst of
-wilds and deserts which the foot of man has seldom trod; but such has
-been my fate.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I did forget,&quot; replied Martin Oldkirk. &quot;You have had a hard lot,
-sir.&quot; And Dudley and he parted for the night.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The sun had been up more than an hour when Dudley awoke on the
-following morning; and while he dressed himself in the little back
-room of the cottage where he had slept, he heard voices in the
-neighbouring chamber, and could distinguish the words: &quot;I hope the
-gentleman will remember us well for our trouble, for you see, Martin,
-the locks aren't broken, and we've not even looked into them.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will be answerable for him,&quot; replied the voice of Martin Oldkirk.
-&quot;You may be sure he will pay you well;&quot; and the words were succeeded
-by a heavy trailing sound, as if some large object was dragged slowly
-from one side of the room to another.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">When Dudley entered the front chamber, he saw two large boxes standing
-on the left hand side, to which Martin Oldkirk pointed, with a look of
-satisfaction, saying, &quot;We've got them out, sir, though we had some
-trouble, and they seemed pretty well soaked in the seawater. Now that
-the tide's out, she stands well nigh high and dry at one part; that's
-to say, what's left of her, for the masts are all down, and she's
-broken in two. Another tide, if the wind goes on blowing in this way,
-won't leave a stick of her together. A good deal has been got out of
-her, notwithstanding: one-third of the cargo, I dare say, and most of
-the passengers' baggage.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;This, is, indeed, an important service, Oldkirk,&quot; replied Dudley;
-&quot;and you shall now have Norries's letter; but we must break the chest
-open, for my keys are lost.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">What he proposed was soon effected. The trunks were broken open, the
-different articles they contained taken out to dry, and the letter
-which had been so often mentioned was placed in Oldkirk's hands. He
-took it to the window and read it eagerly, and then exclaimed, &quot;That's
-a good man, that's a good man, sir! He's the only lawyer that I ever
-knew who would come forward to help a poor man without fee or reward.
-He saved me from ruin. The little I have I owe all to him, and I will
-do all that he tells me. You shall hear all about it, sir; every word;
-but first let us have some breakfast.&quot;</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">The calm evening light was shining sweetly upon park, and wood, and
-valley, and high, bare down: a strong wind blew the fleecy clouds fast
-across the sky, varying the face of earth with shadows that chased one
-another like children in their play; and ever and anon the sun was
-left clear and brilliant, and his rays, poured obliquely from a point
-hardly two hand's-breadth from the horizon, gilded the western sides
-of the trees, and made their lustrous leaves shine like diamonds.
-Through the heart of Eda Brandon the shadowy clouds of manifold
-emotions passed as rapidly as the vapours over the sky, but still the
-sun of hope shone forth again, and rendered the little world of her
-fair bosom as bright and sparkling as the scene around her. He was
-safe, he was home again, he was near her, he was clear of blame; his
-innocence was made manifest to the eyes of the whole world. She could
-look with pride even to his sufferings and to her own love; she could
-say, &quot;He has been injured, traduced, and grieved, but he is innocent,
-and I have loved him still.&quot; Oh! how joyful was the thought of
-consoling him through life for all he had undergone! how sweet the
-expectation of seeing him again, as, leaning on Edgar's arm, she
-walked quickly across the park towards the old priory; but yet those
-feelings were sorely agitating. Joy would hold its place, and all seem
-glad and cheerful for a time; but then, the very intensity of her
-affection would reach a point which became almost painful, and a
-sensation of faintness would come over her, and make her pause and
-pant for breath.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar felt for her; for although a great change had come over him
-since first he was presented to the reader; although experience and
-action, the seasoning fires of youth, had given decision and firmness
-to his character; although he had grown more powerful in mind, more
-manly in character, yet not one of the warm enthusiastic feelings of
-his heart had been lost, and he could understand what it was to feel,
-with sensations very like those of fear, the meeting with a lover
-under such circumstances as hers. He soothed her kindly, and tenderly,
-too; he cheered her with every bright subject that fancy could
-suggest; but he ventured not to laugh or jest, as he might have done
-at another time; for he saw and knew that the emotions were too deep,
-the waters of the heart too profound, to be stirred by the light winds
-in sport. At length the limits of the park were reached, and they
-passed out. He walked quickly through the little wood, though Eda
-murmured, &quot;Oh, Edgar!&quot; and would fain have paused for a moment, for he
-thought she would be better, stronger, happier, when the first meeting
-was over. In a minute more, the gray ruin, and the green ivy, and the
-little meadow before the sculptured porch, and the stream glancing
-beyond, were before their eyes, and the form of Dudley, rising up from
-a pile of architectural fragments, on which he had been sitting, was
-in Eda's sight.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There had been many emotions, as I have said, in her breast, as she
-walked thither; there had been anxiety, and joy, and some degree of
-apprehension of she knew not what; but the moment that she beheld him
-every impression gave way to one, the thought of all he had suffered,
-and how he had suffered it. It came rushing upon her like a torrent,
-as one great image, the anguish, the indignation, the privations, the
-sorrows, the wrongs he had endured and felt; and giving way at once to
-the impulse of the heart, and forgetting all conventional forms, and
-the cold, thoughtful ceremonies of the world, she sprang forward, she
-cast herself into his arms, she wept with mingled joy and grief.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There was a long, long pause, for neither of the two could speak, and
-Edgar would not. The tears rose, too, in Dudley's eyes: not the tears
-of those weaker emotions which shake the light and the tender on
-meeting again with those they love, but the tears of strong, powerful,
-soul-subduing gratitude to God for mercies shown, and hope and
-happiness restored. He thanked, from his very heart, the Almighty
-Ruler of all destinies, that he had seen his native land again; he
-thanked him for deliverance from disgrace, and sorrow, and undeserved
-punishment; he thanked him for a reputation cleared, a high name
-restored, for honour, and for peace, and for dawning happiness; and
-perhaps he thanked him more than all for giving him the love, the
-persevering, devoted, unchanging love of one whom he loved so well. It
-was indeed the crowning blessing of all; that which alone could render
-life cheerful and pleasant to him; and while, with his arms around
-her, he pressed her to his heart, and kissed her soft cheek, he felt
-that of all the blessings prepared for man by the great Creator in the
-terrestrial paradise, there was no blessing equal to the last, which
-was bestowed for the comfort and consolation needed by man even in
-Eden.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">At length their feelings found voice; and seating themselves upon the
-same shaded pile of chiselled stone-work where Dudley had waited the
-coming of Eda and her cousin, they began to talk over the past and the
-future. Of the past the reader knows so much that he need not listen
-to their conversation here. Nor did Dudley dwell upon it long, for he
-knew that their time was short, and that Eda must speedily return to
-mingle once more with gay scenes, in which she took no interested
-part; but turning quickly to the more important present, on which so
-much depended, he besought Eda not to say to any one that she had seen
-him, nor to give a hint that he had returned to the land.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There are many things, dearest Eda,&quot; he said, &quot;which I wish to do
-before I openly avow myself. I must, in the first place, claim back my
-property from the crown, and take measures to make my restitution to
-all my rights, and the restoration of honour to my name, as clear and
-perfect as possible; and for these purposes I must see Mr. Clive. But
-I am told he is absent. Do you think he will soon return?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not till the end of the week they told me at the Grange, Dudley,&quot;
-answered Miss Brandon; &quot;but I can easily get his address.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Are you quite sure, dear Eda,&quot; asked Dudley, &quot;that he has not told
-the facts concerning the death of Lord Hadley to other and less
-discreet persons than yourself, especially to Mr. Filmer?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly not, unless by letter,&quot; replied Eda; &quot;for both Mr. Clive
-and Helen were away when we arrived. I have asked at many of the
-cottages of the peasantry in regard to the cause of his long absence,
-but do not find that any one entertains the slightest suspicion of
-what it seems, from Edgar's account, has taken place in London, and I
-am quite sure that neither my uncle nor Mr. Filmer have the slightest
-knowledge of the changed circumstances in which we stand. I think it
-might be better,&quot; she added, and then paused and hesitated, with a
-beautiful blush rising up and tinging her cheek and temples, &quot;I think
-it might be better--why should I scruple to say so? to come up to
-Brandon and claim me for your own at once. There are several persons
-there, some of them entertaining expectations, I believe with my
-uncle's encouragement, which can never be fulfilled; and I would fain
-have it known at once, Dudley, that my hand is promised to another,
-and that there is nothing which has been able to shake my esteem for a
-man whose conduct in trifles only gave me, in early years, the
-clearest indication of what would be his conduct in more important,
-though more painful, scenes at an after period.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley pressed his lips upon her hand. &quot;Dear Eda,&quot; he said, &quot;the
-temptation is a great one; but let us think well what we are doing.
-Your uncle, I believe, knows not, has, in fact, no suspicion, that my
-innocence is proved, and my pardon granted.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;None, none whatever,&quot; answered Eda. &quot;During several months, while we
-were wandering hither and thither, he only saw the newspapers at
-intervals, and I know not whether the case was ever stated in them at
-all.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It was hinted at in one of the evening prints,&quot; said Edgar Adelon;
-&quot;but the whole transaction was conducted privately, without any
-affectation of secrecy indeed, but in a quiet, unostentatious manner;
-and the Secretary of State thought, when all was decided, that it
-would be better to take no public notice of the transaction till your
-return, Dudley; when, as he said, you could yourself have recourse to
-such means as you might judge advisable.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley had fallen into a reverie while Edgar was speaking, but he
-roused himself immediately, saying, in the same low tone which they
-had hitherto employed--for the impression of their secret meeting
-affected even their conversation, while no one could hear--&quot;Perhaps it
-might be better, as you say, Eda; but if I determine upon following
-this course, prepare yourself, love, for somewhat strange and perhaps
-unpleasant scenes. Your uncle will, of course, imagine at first than I
-am an escaped convict. He will be indignant at my showing myself in
-his house at all, still more indignant at what he will consider my
-rash pretensions. He may carry this indignation to violent measures
-and harsh terms; and if you yourself are present, it may place you in
-unpleasant circumstances.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I fear not,&quot; answered Eda, &quot;the whole will be easily explained; and
-although he will, doubtless, still object, and I might be most
-unwilling, in matters not affecting my whole happiness and welfare, to
-reject the counsel of one who has been a father to me, yet in this
-case, Dudley, no objections will be of any avail. I have scrutinized
-my own heart; I know and understand my own feelings, and I am ready to
-choose my part at once, and to act up to it to the end.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But the question is this,&quot; said Dudley. &quot;Can you do so, my Eda, if I
-think fit, on motives of my own, to give no explanations to your
-uncle, or any one who may be present, to let mistakes go on, and
-confusion work itself clear by gradual and natural means?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;But upon what motives, Dudley?&quot; asked Eda, in a tone of anxiety. &quot;Why
-should you suffer mistakes to exist when there is an easy way of
-explaining them?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not for the purpose, believe me, dear girl,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;of
-showing how strong is the force of your attachment, and inducing you
-to avow your unshaken affection even for a condemned convict; neither
-with a view to let your uncle commit himself by injustice towards me;
-but to open his eyes, perhaps, to the conduct of a villain and a
-hypocrite who has long deceived him. The course I propose seems to me
-to be the best adapted to that object; but I will think over it Eda
-till to-morrow morning. Could not you and Edgar stroll down here
-together on an early walk an hour or two before breakfast?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Assuredly,&quot; answered Edgar, speaking for his cousin. &quot;All our guests
-are sad lie-a-beds, and will be in no condition to interrupt us,
-except our good friend, Captain M----, and of him we can easily
-dispose.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, I will think of it to-night,&quot; replied Dudley. &quot;I should have
-liked to see Clive first, indeed; but I think as he is absent we must
-not wait his coming. Only remember not to give any explanation till I
-judge right to do so myself. I think Eda will not disavow her love
-under any circumstances?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Assuredly,&quot; answered Eda; &quot;but one of our servants said to-day, that
-there was some expectation entertained of the return of Mr. Clive and
-Helen to-morrow: tidings which have kept Edgar's heart beating all the
-day;&quot; and she gazed at her cousin with a gay smile.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I shall be able to tell you more when we meet, Dudley,&quot; said Edgar;
-&quot;and to say the truth, I think your plan the very best you could have
-formed; for whether Mr. Clive is here or not, I shall be able to prove
-all the facts, having a copy of the depositions.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There are more facts than you know, Edgar,&quot; answered Dudley, in a
-somewhat stern tone; and Eda started at the words, and drew a little
-aside, saying, &quot;Speak with me for a moment, Dudley. You would not, I
-am sure,&quot; she continued, in a low voice, &quot;do anything to injure my
-uncle. You may have obtained those papers of which we once heard much
-mention; but I think--nay, I am sure--that you would not use them to
-his detriment.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Pain him, I must, Eda,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;injure him I will not in the
-least degree, and even the pain shall turn to his benefit, ay, and to
-his peace; for with all his prosperity he has not been a happy man.
-But the sun is down, dear one, and I must not keep you longer, for it
-will be quite dark ere you reach the house.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Thus saying, he led her back to where Edgar stood, and bade them
-adieu, adding, as they parted, in a louder tone than they had hitherto
-used, &quot;Then I shall see you here to-morrow, about eight, and we will
-decide upon our future course.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar and Eda assured him they would not fail, and took their way back
-through the little wood. Dudley gazed after them till they were hidden
-by the young green boughs, and then walked slowly away in the
-direction of the small place called Beach Rock.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">For some minutes after he was gone, all was still and silent. The rosy
-beams of the evening departed from the light clouds overhead; the
-nightingale broke forth in the wood; the scene around lost its lustre,
-and became gray; and the bat, more surely summer's harbinger even than
-the martin, flitted quietly over the space before the old building, in
-search of its insect prey. At the end of those few minutes, however,
-some of the branches of ivy, which had extended themselves across the
-ruined doorway, were pushed back, and a dark shadowy figure came out
-in the gray twilight, and stood for a moment with the arms crossed
-upon the chest. It was that of a man, dressed in a long straight-cut
-black coat, with a white cravat tied round the throat. There was
-nothing else remarkable in his appearance, and he gazed quietly to the
-left, upon the road taken by Eda and Edgar, and then to the right,
-where Dudley had disappeared. He next fell into a fit of meditation,
-the nature of which it would be difficult to divine. It ended,
-however, with a low, unpleasant laugh, and saying to himself, &quot;So, so!
-at eight o'clock to-morrow,&quot; he turned and walked away in the same
-direction as Miss Brandon and her cousin, but took the road under the
-park wall for some way, and entered the enclosure by a stile farther
-up.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XL.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">It still wanted half an hour of eight o'clock on the following
-morning, when Dudley walked along the road from Beach Rock to Brandon.
-He was not alone, however, for by his side was Martin Oldkirk, whose
-stern but not unpleasant features were lighted up with an expression
-of high satisfaction. At the distance of about a quarter of a mile
-from the old Priory the two paused, and Dudley turned to take the path
-across the fields which led to the ruin, while Martin Oldkirk went on;
-but after a moment the young gentleman paused, and called to his
-companion, saying, &quot;I think you would do it more quickly if you would
-go back and get the gig we left at Seafield. I should like to have
-them all at Brandon by half-past nine.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I shall go quicker on foot, sir,&quot; replied Oldkirk. &quot;Seafield is a
-mile and a half, and that would be all lost time.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Without more words he walked on; and leaping the stile with a light
-heart, Dudley soon reached the bank of the little stream near which
-ran the path he was following. Slackening his pace a little, as he
-proceeded, to gaze at the dancing waters sparkling in the morning
-light, he advanced with the copse straight before him, and an angle of
-the ruin rising gray above the green foliage. The hour and the scene
-and the season all harmonised well with the feelings in his bosom. He
-was going to meet her he loved in the bright morning of the year's
-most hopeful time, and his heart was full of the thrilling emotions of
-life's happiest dream.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He reached the little lawn which spread from the old portal to the
-brink of the stream, and knowing he was before the hour, was advancing
-to take the seat which he had chosen the night before, and wait with
-hope and fancy for his companions, when a man came forth from one of
-the recesses of the building, with a slow and sauntering air.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;This is disagreeable!&quot; thought Dudley; &quot;but it matters not. As I have
-resolved on my course, I will walk on. I shall be sure to meet them in
-the park;&quot; and he began to cross the green towards the copse, when the
-man whom he had seen called to him, saying, &quot;Sir, sir! I want to ask
-you a question.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley instantly paused and turned round, when at the same moment
-another man appeared, and the first approaching said, &quot;Is not your
-name Dudley, sir?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; replied the young gentleman; &quot;what may be your pleasure with
-me?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I apprehend you in the Queen's name,&quot; said the stranger, grasping his
-arm and producing a constable's staff. &quot;Come along with me!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Where is your warrant?&quot; demanded Dudley, with perfect calmness, while
-the second man approached.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I don't need any warrants,&quot; answered the constable. &quot;I know you for a
-returned convict; and I shall take you at once before Mr. Conway.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, that you shall not do,&quot; replied Dudley, keeping them at a little
-distance. &quot;It is your duty to take me before the nearest magistrate;
-that is Sir Arthur Adelon, and you have no pretence for making me go
-four miles when there is a justice within one.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, there can be no objection to that,&quot; said the constable; but the
-other man interposed, observing in a low tone, &quot;He said before Mr.
-Conway.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I don't care for that,&quot; replied the other; &quot;I don't take my orders
-from he. Did he say why?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have told you what is your duty,&quot; said Dudley; &quot;and you know it to
-be so. Disregard it at your peril; for you will find in a very short
-time that you are altogether wrong in this business; and if you
-subject me to more inconvenience than necessary, I will punish you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, I shall put the handcuffs on you, at all events, my young
-blade,&quot; replied the constable; &quot;that I have a right to do.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, you have not,&quot; answered Dudley, who had a stout stick in his
-hand; &quot;and you shall not do it. I tell you I am not an escaped
-convict, and that I am ready to go before Sir Arthur Adelon, without
-the slightest resistance; but any attempt to treat me with indignity I
-will resist to the utmost of my power, knowing that I am in the right.
-The consequences, then, be upon your own heads; for whether I be
-injured or you be injured, in any struggle which may take place, the
-responsibility will rest with you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It is unfortunate that the inferior officers of the law have seldom
-any accurate knowledge of the law they have to execute, which
-generally makes their proceedings either rashly violent or weakly
-hesitating. &quot;Well, sir,&quot; said the constable in return, after a
-moment's thought, &quot;if you will go quietly I don't mind.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will go quietly,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;and for your own satisfaction,
-one can come on one side and the other on the other; but remember, if
-either of you attempt to touch me, I will knock him down.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">This being arranged, the whole party proceeded with some caution
-through the little wood, across the road, and into the park. They had
-hardly gone a hundred yards, however, when Dudley perceived those whom
-he had come to meet, advancing towards him. He took not the least
-notice, but proceeded with a calm and deliberate step; and he could
-see that Edgar suddenly hurried his pace.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">When they came a little nearer, Sir Arthur Adelon's son left his
-cousin beneath one of the chestnut trees, and hastening forward, shook
-Dudley warmly by the hand. The two constables looked at each other in
-some surprise, for this was a sort of recognition which they had not
-the least expectation of witnessing; and they made no effort to
-interrupt a low conversation which went on for a minute or two between
-their prisoner and his friend.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I will tell him; I will not fail to tell him,&quot; said Edgar. &quot;I will
-get back with Eda as fast as possible, that she may be there before
-you arrive. Good-bye, good-bye, for the present!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Thus ended their short conference; and Dudley, turning to the
-constables, told them he was ready to proceed. It was evident the two
-men began to doubt that they were exactly in the right; but Dudley
-gave them no opportunity of satisfying themselves any farther, walking
-on with a slow step, and suffering Eda and her cousin to enter the
-house before him. Few of the servants were seen about the place; and
-the man who appeared at the hall-door, in answer to the summons of the
-bell, was a stranger to Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A small room in Brandon House had been set apart as a justice-room;
-but when the servant led the constables and their prisoner thither, he
-found the door locked, and consequently conducted them to the library.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Sir Arthur is not down yet,&quot; said the footman; &quot;but I will tell him
-as soon as he is up.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Tell Mr. Filmer,&quot; said the constable; &quot;he's up, I'll warrant.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley listened with a slight smile, but made no remark aloud,
-thinking, though mistakenly, &quot;Some of the servants saw me on the night
-of the wreck, and have told the priest.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">After waiting for a few minutes, the same servant returned, and
-beckoned one of the constables out of the room. He was absent for
-nearly a quarter of an hour; but on his return he advanced towards
-Dudley, saying, &quot;I am to take you to Mr. Conway, sir; for Sir Arthur
-will not like to deal with the case, because he knows you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am afraid he must,&quot; replied Dudley, firmly. &quot;I am here in a
-magistrate's house, and I certainly shall not quit it till he has
-decided whether there is, or is not, cause for keeping me in custody.
-You need not speak another word on the subject, my good friend, for
-here I am determined to remain.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man seemed puzzled, and gave a significant look towards his
-companion. He then quitted the room once more; but returning after an
-absence of a few minutes, sat down at a little distance from the
-prisoner, and beat the top of his hat with his fingers. Many persons
-were now heard moving about the house, and a round-headed, fat-faced
-young man, in a Melton coat, top-boots, and white-cord breeches,
-entered, looked round, and walked out again. Some one also passed
-along under the windows, whistling one of those interminable airs
-which ornament modern operas, and which are so happily adapted to
-vulgar tastes, that everybody can whistle them, and everybody does. A
-moment after, Sir Arthur's voice was heard in the hall, saying,
-apparently to a servant, &quot;Well, ring the breakfast bell; I dare say we
-shall not be long. Do you know what it is about? Who is he?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;He looks quite like a gentleman, sir,&quot; said the servant; &quot;but I did
-not ask any questions. Mr. Filmer has spoken with the constables.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, send Mr. Filmer to me,&quot; said Sir Arthur Adelon. &quot;Good morning,
-my lord; good morning, Captain M----. The constables have brought in a
-prisoner; I must go and see what it is all about; but I will join you
-at breakfast in a few minutes.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yours is an open court, I suppose, Sir Arthur,&quot; said the voice of
-Captain M----; &quot;and if you will permit me, I will see how people
-conduct such business here.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, certainly,&quot; said Sir Arthur Adelon; and opening the door
-of the library, he walked in, followed by Lord Kingsland and Captain
-M----.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The moment the baronet's eyes fell upon Dudley, however, a change came
-over his face. He turned very pale, and his lip quivered; but he
-recovered speedily, and noticing the prisoner with a haughty bow, he
-said, &quot;I did not expect to see you here, sir.&quot; At the same time, he
-moved towards a great arm-chair, by the side of the library table.
-Captain M----'s eye glanced towards Dudley with a very slight smile,
-but he took no farther notice of him, and seated himself near the peer
-and the baronet.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I dare say you did not, Sir Arthur,&quot; said Dudley, in reply to the
-magistrate's words. &quot;My coming hither, at this moment, was unexpected
-to myself, though I certainly should have troubled you with a visit in
-a short time. It is to these two worthy gentlemen I owe the pleasure
-of seeing you sooner than I intended.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Humph!&quot; said Sir Arthur, with a cold look. &quot;I am to suppose, sir,
-then, that they brought you hither: in which they probably only did
-their duty? Upon what charge have you brought this--this--this
-gentleman, before me,&quot; he continued, addressing the constable.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, your worship, Sir Arthur,&quot; replied the man, &quot;I had information,
-that this gentleman, this Mr. Dudley, is an escaped convict; the same
-as he who was condemned at the assizes two or three years ago. If he's
-not, he's very like him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What do you say to this charge, sir,&quot; demanded Sir Arthur Adelon,
-looking at Dudley with the same cold demeanour.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;By your permission, Sir Arthur,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;I will put one
-question to this good man.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! as many as you please,&quot; answered the baronet, throwing himself
-back in his chair, evidently not very much at ease.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then, tell me, my good friend the constable,&quot; continued Dudley,
-&quot;who was it that gave you orders to apprehend me?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, nobody gave me orders like,&quot; replied the constable; &quot;but I had
-information like.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;From whom?&quot; demanded Dudley. &quot;That is exactly what I want to know.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The man looked a little bewildered, but at length replied, &quot;Why, I was
-told not to say anything about it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes; but you must say something here,&quot; said Dudley. &quot;I insist upon
-your informing Sir Arthur Adelon, who it was that gave you that
-information.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, it was Mr. Filmer; Father Peter, as they call him, if I must
-say,&quot; replied the constable. &quot;I don't see why he should mind my
-telling.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I doubt its being very pleasing to him,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;but with
-that we have nothing to do.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not see what we have to do with the matter at all,&quot; said Sir
-Arthur Adelon. &quot;To me it seems of no importance.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;To you it is of the greatest importance in the world,&quot; replied
-Dudley. &quot;I put the question for the express purpose of leading to the
-complete display of a villain's character. I must request you to send
-for Mr. Filmer, sir.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I have sent for him already,&quot; said Sir Arthur, sharply; &quot;but the
-question is, whether you, sir, are an escaped convict or not, and with
-that Mr. Filmer has nothing to do.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is not the whole question,&quot; replied Dudley. &quot;When that is all
-made clear, it will remain to be seen whether these men have acted
-properly in taking me into custody without a warrant, and without
-information on oath. I might also add, that they sought, in the first
-instance, doubtless by the advice of the same worthy informer, to take
-me four miles hence, to Mr. Conway, when they apprehended me on the
-very grounds of Brandon.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That was wrong,&quot; said Sir Arthur. &quot;Pray, who told you to do that,
-constable?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, Mr. Filmer, sir,&quot; answered the man.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! here he comes to answer for himself,&quot; observed the baronet as the
-door opened; but instead of Mr. Filmer, it was the baronet's son who
-appeared, and walking straight up to Dudley, he shook hands with him
-warmly.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur eyed him for a moment with a look of displeasure, and
-perhaps would have fain closed the doors of the library against any
-farther audience; but he felt that there were many circumstances which
-might render such a step injudicious; and turning to one of the
-constables, he said, in a hurried manner, &quot;Send for Mr. Filmer again;
-say I desire to speak with him. Pray be seated, Mr. Dudley,&quot; he
-continued, in a more courteous tone than he had hitherto used. &quot;I
-could certainly have wished that this case had been brought before Mr.
-Conway, or any other magistrate, rather than myself; for the feelings
-of friendship which I have always entertained towards you, may throw a
-suspicion of partiality over my proceedings. But I shall try to avoid
-the reality as far as possible, and deal with the matter in hand
-according to the principles of justice and common sense.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley felt a little indignant at this speech, well understanding the
-quality of the friendship which Sir Arthur expressed towards him; but
-a portion of contempt mingled with his indignation, for he was aware
-that hypocrisy has its origin in weakness more frequently than in art.
-Cunning is the refuge of the feeble. He sat down, therefore, in
-silence, merely bowing his head; and the moment after Mr. Filmer
-entered the room.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Whether he had obtained any hint of what was occurring, or whether
-shrewd perception supplied the place of information, I know not; but
-his course was evidently chosen from the moment he entered the room.
-His step was, as usual, calm and easy, silent, but firm; and turning a
-cold, stern glance upon Dudley, he advanced to the table where Sir
-Arthur Adelon sat, and said at once, without giving any one time to
-explain, &quot;I am very happy, Sir Arthur, to see that the constables have
-done their duty upon the information which I afforded them last night,
-although I perceive they have not attended to my warning, nor carried
-before Mr. Conway a case upon which I knew it would be very painful
-for you to decide.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As he spoke, his eyes again turned towards Dudley for a moment, and he
-saw an expression upon that gentleman's face which did not satisfy
-him. It was an expression of tranquil, almost contemptuous calmness.
-Dudley seemed rather amused than not; but if the priest was not well
-pleased with the look of the prisoner, he was still less so with a
-word that sounded close in his ear. &quot;Hypocrite!&quot; said a low voice, and
-turning round, he saw Edgar Adelon close beside him.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Did you apply that term to me, my son?&quot; said Mr. Filmer, almost in a
-whisper.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">With a stern, contracted brow, the young man slowly bent his head in
-sign of affirmation, and then withdrew a step, leaving him alone.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Pray, Mr. Filmer,&quot; said Dudley, rising, &quot;though the question may
-appear a little irregular, and not bearing on the points at issue, may
-I ask how you obtained certain information of my return to this
-country, so as, without making oath or taking out a warrant against
-me, to send constables to apprehend me?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The question <i>
-is</i>
-irregular,&quot; said the priest, sternly; but the
-moment after, a gleam of bitter satisfaction came into his eyes, and
-he added, &quot;I can tell you if you desire it, nevertheless; but if you
-will take my advice you will not inquire;&quot; and he looked round to
-Edgar Adelon with one of his serpent sneers, which seemed but the more
-intense from the assumed mildness and tranquillity of every feature
-but the lip. Edgar at once quitted the room, but Dudley replied--</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Sir, having nothing whatsoever to fear, I will beg you to give the
-information I desired.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Mr. Filmer seemed to hesitate for a moment, and turned a look towards
-Sir Arthur Adelon, who answered it by saying, &quot;Pray do; this matter
-must be investigated to the bottom.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Be it so, then,&quot; said Mr. Filmer. &quot;Yesterday evening I chanced, as is
-frequently my custom, to wander forth to the old Priory, wishing, as
-who might not wish, to spend a short time in meditation, perhaps in
-prayer, upon the spot and amidst the scenes where holy men, ay, and
-martyrs, too, have trod the earth with their feet and watered it with
-their blood, and addressed their petitions to heaven. I was sitting,
-lost in thought, when I heard voices near, and looking forth I saw a
-party, consisting of two gentlemen and a lady. Shall I give their
-names?&quot; he continued; and he fixed his eyes firmly upon Dudley.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Decidedly,&quot; replied the prisoner; although perhaps, to say the truth,
-he was not quite well pleased at the idea of his conversation with Eda
-having been overheard.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, certainly,&quot; replied Lord Kingsland, who seemed for the
-moment to have the parliamentary spirit strong upon him. &quot;Name, name!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Pray give them,&quot; said Sir Arthur Adelon, although his feelings were
-not very comfortable.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;One gentleman was Mr. Dudley,&quot; replied the priest, slowly; &quot;the other
-was your son, Sir Arthur; the lady's name perhaps I had better not
-mention.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;She will name it herself,&quot; said Eda Brandon, entering the room,
-leaning upon Edgar's arm. &quot;I was the person, my dear uncle, who was
-with Edgar and Mr. Dudley at the Priory; and I was exceedingly glad,&quot;
-she continued, crossing over to Dudley and giving him her hand, &quot;to
-congratulate him on his safe return to England.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley retained the fair, small hand she offered, in his own for a
-moment or two; and there they stood together, she with her colour a
-good deal heightened, and he with his eyes full of bright and proud
-satisfaction. It had required a great effort; but all that she had
-said was calm and lady-like and nothing more. She had made no avowal
-of attachment; she had tried to banish the tone, the look, the manner
-of affection; but those who were around and marked the blush upon her
-cheek, the light in Dudley's eyes, doubted not for one instant the
-spring of love, from the depths of which those bright bubbles rose to
-the surface.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur Adelon looked utterly confounded; and Eda, seeing, with
-some embarrassment, that all eyes were fixed upon her, said, in a
-somewhat faltering tone, but which grew stronger and firmer as she
-went on, &quot;I am afraid, my dear uncle, that I have intruded where I
-have little business; but Edgar having told me; in his enthusiastic
-way, that Mr. Filmer was likely to make a mystery of that in which
-there is really none, I came to sweep all such things away; for there
-is nothing that I should more dislike than any of my actions being
-made a secret of. When all this is over, Mr. Dudley,&quot; she continued,
-turning towards him, &quot;I shall be most happy to welcome you to Brandon;
-indeed, breakfast is already waiting;&quot; and she was retiring from the
-room, when her uncle exclaimed, &quot;Stay, Eda, stay! All this is most
-extraordinary! Pray, then, did you know that this gentleman had
-returned?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Perfectly,&quot; answered Eda. &quot;I was aware that he had come back in the
-same ship with Edgar, and that he had suffered shipwreck with him,
-after having endured two years of undeserved hardship, brought upon
-him by the basest machinations of a designing man.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">She would not look at Filmer while she spoke, for the strong, earnest
-love of her heart, had raised the spirit of indignation in her, which
-she feared might appear too clearly; and turning away she quitted the
-library.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What is the meaning of all this?&quot; asked Sir Arthur Adelon, looking at
-his son. &quot;There seems to be a serious accusation against some one, but
-what it is I cannot divine.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is, I believe, a very common case, Sir Arthur,&quot; answered Mr.
-Filmer; &quot;ingratitude to those who have served and benefited us;
-suspicion of those who have dealt honestly for our own good against
-our inclination; and slander of the innocent in order to shield the
-guilty; but the simple question before you, I believe, is, without
-considering any idle attack upon me, or defence equally idle, whether
-that person standing there is or is not an offender, under the
-sentence of the law, escaped from the country and the punishment to
-which the law assigned him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I can answer that question at once,&quot; said Captain M----; &quot;and you
-must forgive me for speaking, notwithstanding your message, my dear
-Dudley. I first knew that gentleman, Sir Arthur, in the quality of the
-Nameless Fisherman by the Nameless Lake. I afterwards had the pleasure
-of seeing him at the Government House, at Hobart Town, with his
-character cleared from all stain, and his name and honour as bright
-and proud as that of any gentleman in the land. I can testify that he
-received a pardon under the great seal, in consequence of being
-clearly proved innocent of an offence for which he had been wrongly
-condemned.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then I have no farther business here,&quot; said Mr. Filmer, with perfect
-tranquillity of tone and look. &quot;I could not be aware of the
-circumstances under which Mr. Dudley had returned; and I suppose that
-no one will deny I acted properly, in pointing out to the officers of
-justice a person whom I believed to have escaped from the due
-punishment of a great offence.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Stay one moment,&quot; said Dudley, &quot;I have not yet done with you, sir. I
-have a charge to make against you, and a very heavy one.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Mr. Filmer's face might turn a shade or two paler; for it is a
-difficult thing, when, through a long life, one has been acting a deep
-and criminal part, to see even the chance of exposure, and yet so rule
-the heart, that the blood will not fly back to it in alarm. Habitual
-success may do something; the confidence of tried skill and known
-power may do something likewise; and the custom of concealing emotion
-may still rule words, and tones, and actions, and even looks; but that
-subtle thing, whatever it is, which sometimes sends the warm stream of
-life rushing in an instant through every vein to the face, and at
-others, calls it suddenly back to the deep well of the heart, cannot
-be so commanded. The vagueness of a charge, too, does greatly add to
-its terrifying influence upon one who has been a hypocrite from the
-beginning. All his powers of mind, be they what they may, are but as a
-small garrison in a ruined fortress, attacked by a large army. Every
-evil act that he has committed, every false word that he has spoken,
-has made a breach in his own walls of defence. He knows not at what
-feeble and unguarded point he may be attacked, for he has himself
-raised up an innumerable host to assail him; his own crimes are his
-own enemies, and in proportion to their multitude must be his fears.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Mr. Filmer did turn somewhat paler than he was before; but so calm was
-his whole aspect, that no one marked the change but Dudley and Edgar
-Adelon, whose keen eyes were fixed upon his face the whole time.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, sir,&quot; he said, turning towards his accuser, &quot;I shall be very
-ready to hear and answer the charge, as I know it must be groundless;
-but will you allow me to suggest that it should be made at a later
-hour of the day. You are aware that I am an early riser, and I have
-not yet broken my fast. My appetite, too, is good, considering my
-years.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It seems, sir, that you wished to increase mine by a walk of four
-miles,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;but this matter is serious, and cannot be
-turned off lightly. I will make the charge whenever Sir Arthur Adelon
-thinks fit to receive it; but I do not lose sight of you till it is
-made.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then am I to consider it as of a criminal nature, and cognizable by a
-magistrate?&quot; demanded the baronet, very much discomposed.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Such as must lead you, if it be even in part established,&quot; replied
-Dudley, &quot;to commit this person to prison, or at all events, to require
-bail for his appearance.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then I would much prefer that the charge should be made before
-another magistrate,&quot; said Sir Arthur; but Dudley, Edgar, and the
-priest himself, interfered, the two former somewhat eagerly, and the
-latter with the slightly sarcastic tone which marked his replies when
-he was not well pleased.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;As my accuser has no objection, Sir Arthur,&quot; he said, &quot;I must add my
-voice to his. I at least do not suspect you of partiality; but the
-great question with me at present is breakfast. I know you have not
-yet taken any yourself, my kind friend; and although I do not bear any
-ill will to Mr. Dudley on account of whatever accusations he may bring
-against me either for pastime or revenge, I certainly shall be very
-angry with him if he interrupts our pleasant morning meal, which was
-always, I must say, a very tranquil one till he first set his foot in
-this house.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is true, at least,&quot; said Sir Arthur, in a low tone. But Edgar
-interfered again, observing, &quot;You had better, perhaps, join Eda in the
-breakfast-room, my dear father. Dudley, she will be happy, as you
-heard, to see you there; and after the meal we can proceed with this
-unfortunate business.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;An exceedingly good motion, and one for which I shall certainly
-vote!&quot; exclaimed Lord Kingsland, rising.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">And then, turning to Captain M----, he added, in a low voice, &quot;I
-think, M----, if we ever intended, in the private theatricals of
-Brandon, to perform the Rivals, we may spare ourselves the trouble!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I had no part in the cast,&quot; replied Captain M----, &quot;though I am very
-sure, my good lord, there are more private theatricals going on in
-every house in the land than we generally imagine.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ever moralizing I ever moralizing!&quot; said the peer, with an air of
-easy persiflage. And he took his way to the breakfast-room, followed
-by the rest of the party.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XLI.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">There was a certain degree of agitation upon Eda's beautiful face,
-when the party from the library entered the room where she sat; but
-that agitation did not take one particle from the grace of her
-demeanour; and in a few minutes all were seated round the table. As
-usual, where there is a great deal of vanity, there was a certain
-portion of spite in Lord Kingsland's nature; and on the present
-occasion it did not sleep. Ho was mortified at losing the hand of the
-heiress of Brandon, and he took care to make the person who was likely
-to cause that loss feel all that was painful in his position to the
-utmost. Not, indeed, that he ever dreamed that Eda would give, or that
-Sir Arthur would suffer her to give, her hand to one who had been a
-convict; that was a thing quite out of the question, in his opinion.
-It might be supposed, therefore, that he would not easily be led to
-give up the pursuit in which he had engaged, as a marriage with the
-heiress had always been looked upon by him merely as a matter of
-convenience; but in every man's mind there is some peculiar prejudice
-of that sort commonly called crotchet, generally proceeding from
-vanity, and in his case decidedly so. He thought Eda Brandon
-exceedingly beautiful; but still he had not husbanded the fine
-feelings of the heart so carefully as to be capable of love.
-Nevertheless, Lord Kingsland would on no account have married a woman
-who had loved another. He did not like that any man on earth should be
-able to say of his wife, &quot;She was once engaged to me;&quot; and how much
-less would he have liked it to be said that Lady Kingsland had been in
-love with a <i>convict!</i></p>
-
-<p class="normal">As that could not be, the only consolation he could find under his
-little disappointment was to make Eda and Dudley feel that the latter
-had been a convict, and would ever by his fellow-men be regarded as a
-convict. He became exceedingly curious, on a sudden, about Van
-Dieman's Land, asked innumerable questions in regard to Hobart Town,
-and even ventured upon Norfolk Island. Convict discipline became a
-matter of great interest to him; and to hear him speak upon the
-subject, of which he knew nothing, one would have thought that he was
-a great philanthropical legislator.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley answered his questions with calm gravity; but yet he could not
-help feeling, with painful acuteness, that the world, the bitter,
-slanderous world, had got its fangs in his flesh, with a hold that
-nothing could shake off; that a stain had been placed upon his name
-most unjustly, which, though it might be erased, would still leave a
-trace behind.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">With the sharp and clear perception of woman, Eda understood the
-motives in which the peer's conduct originated, and felt both contempt
-and anger. The only effect which it produced upon her own conduct,
-however, was to make her demeanour to Dudley more marked and tender.
-Eda Brandon never flirted in her life, and there was something very
-distinct from anything of that sort in her behaviour on the present
-occasion; but she felt that it was due to Dudley, when she saw him so
-unfairly annoyed, to take her stand, as it were, by his side, and to
-let her affection for him be perfectly undisguised.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The other gentlemen who were in the room, and who had not been present
-at the scene which had taken place in the library, seemed amazingly
-puzzled at all they now witnessed. In addition to everything else, Sir
-Arthur Adelon was evidently ill at ease, and Edgar was stern, silent,
-and almost sharp in his replies when forced to speak.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Mr. Filmer was the only one who maintained his usual placid demeanour,
-and he did that perfectly; for, alas! it is a very fatal error to
-believe that the external appearance of calm tranquillity is always an
-indication of a heart at peace with itself. The priest made a fuller
-breakfast than usual, conversed agreeably with those around him, and
-gave no indication of having any cause for anxiety or even deep
-thought within. Before the meal was fully over, however, a servant
-came in and announced that Mr. Clive and his daughter were there; and
-Dudley could perceive that Filmer's face turned deadly pale.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Show them in,&quot; said Sir Arthur. &quot;I am very glad they have returned.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Who is Mr. Clive?&quot; asked the young baronet, whom I have mentioned
-once before, and while Sir Arthur was answering, &quot;Oh! he is a
-gentleman of very old family, but of somewhat reduced circumstances,&quot;
-the priest arose quietly, and saying, in a low tone, &quot;I am glad they
-have come too; I want much to speak with Clive for a few minutes,&quot;
-moved, with his usual noiseless step, towards the door.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">But Edgar Adelon suddenly sprang up from the table, and placed himself
-in the way. &quot;That cannot be suffered,&quot; he exclaimed. &quot;You must remain
-here, sir.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You! This from you, Edgar!&quot; exclaimed Mr. Filmer, drawing back with
-an air of astonishment, if not really felt, certainly well assumed.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Yes!&quot; answered Edgar, &quot;and more too; for where I once esteemed----&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">What he was about to add was stopped by the entrance of Mr. Clive and
-Helen, who sprang forward to Eda Brandon as to a sister. Sir Arthur
-greeted Mr. Clive himself, with his usual kind, but somewhat stately
-air; and Mr. Filmer approached with a degree of eagerness which in him
-betokened no slight agitation, as if to welcome Mr. Clive, holding out
-his hand to him at the same time. But Clive drew back, and looking
-sternly at the priest, said, &quot;Excuse me, sir; there are matters which
-require explanation before I can either look upon you as my friend, or
-listen to you as my pastor.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What can be the meaning of all this?&quot; exclaimed Sir Arthur Adelon.
-&quot;Explain, Clive: I am in the dark.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ay, let him explain,&quot; answered Mr. Filmer, setting his teeth tight;
-&quot;I can give a sufficient account of my own conduct and my own motives,
-and do not fear any explanations.&quot; But his clouded brow and unwonted
-manner showed that there was something which he had wished concealed,
-but which could be no longer hidden.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;If you wish it, sir, my conduct can all be easily explained,&quot; said
-Clive; and then, turning towards Sir Arthur, he was going on, when his
-eyes suddenly fell upon Dudley, and advancing towards him, he took his
-hand in his own, and pressed it, with a grave look, saying, &quot;Mr.
-Dudley, I am delighted to see you back in your own country again, and
-free from all stain or reproach. Believe me, had I known that a false
-charge had been brought against you, had it not been studiously
-concealed from me by the most artful and the most infamous means, you
-should not have laboured for one hour under an imputation from which I
-can free you, This I am sure you know, and you now know also who it
-was that did the deed for which you have suffered so severely; but
-what you do not know, perhaps, is, the man whom you see there standing
-before you, urged me to fly, knowing that the act was mine, and the
-very same night contrived means to turn the charge against you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Mr. Filmer took a step towards them where they stood, and exclaimed,
-with a solemn and impressive air, &quot;Clive, Clive, my friend! You are
-suffering a generous nature to betray you into most ungenerous acts. I
-wish those words had been spoken by heretical lips, rather than yours.
-Have you no respect for the religion you profess, or for its
-ministers, that when one of them did you an act of great kindness, you
-should use it as a charge against him? Tell me, did I not, the moment
-I knew what you had done, did I not, I say, come down, at a late hour
-of the night, to comfort and counsel you? I did advise you to fly; I
-acknowledge it; but it was in consideration of your own safety that I
-did so; for let me tell you, my son, that even in this land, which
-boasts so much of its equity and its justice, it is no slight thing to
-kill a peer of the realm. As soon as I was told who it was that had
-done it, I went down for the sole purpose of advising you to fly, as
-the only means of saving you from detection and punishment.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;May I ask you, sir,&quot; said Dudley, &quot;as this seems to be an explanation
-rather than an examination, who was the man from whom you derived your
-information?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You are very ignorant, sir, it would appear,&quot; replied Filmer, with an
-air of reproof, &quot;of the rules and principles of a church of which you
-are accustomed to express contempt and abhorrence, otherwise you would
-know that a priest does not break the seal of confession. To give you,
-or any one else, the name, would be a violation of that important
-law.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And did you really know who it was that killed Lord Hadley?&quot; demanded
-Sir Arthur Adelon, in a tone of surprise.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I did, sir. What then?&quot; replied Mr. Filmer, with a stern look, laying
-a somewhat menacing emphasis upon the words.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Nay, nothing,&quot; replied Sir Arthur Adelon; but Dudley went on, sternly
-saying, &quot;It is unnecessary, Mr. Filmer, to violate the seal of
-confession, for we know the name of your informant already, and in
-this deposition you will find all the facts. I am inclined to imagine
-that Daniel Connor is even now in this house, but if you will examine
-that paper, you will see that he has already deposed to his having
-told you the whole truth, and to your having come down to him
-afterwards, to induce him to put his evidence in such a shape as to
-bring the charge upon me rather than upon Mr. Clive. Now, Sir Arthur
-Adelon, this is something like a subornation of witnesses, and it can
-be proved by the man's own statement.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You are labouring under a mistake, young gentleman,&quot; said Filmer, now
-driven to bay. &quot;For his own sake and his safety I certainly did
-recommend to Daniel Connor to go up and give his evidence
-spontaneously, in order that no suspicion should attach to himself. He
-said, if I recollect rightly, that the man who had done the deed was
-very much of the same height as yourself, but when he swore that, he
-swore truly.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Doubtless,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;but he states that he could have told
-exactly who did it, and would have told, if it had not been for your
-persuasions to the contrary.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;This seems a very bad case,&quot; said Lord Kingsland, speaking to Edgar
-Adelon. &quot;If the animus can be proved, it will assume a serious
-complexion.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Without replying directly to the peer, Edgar stepped forward, and
-addressing Mr. Filmer, demanded, &quot;Did you, or did you not, sir--when
-you knew that I was seeking for evidence, and had nearly obtained it,
-to show before a jury the impossibility of Mr. Dudley having committed
-the offence with which he was charged--did you not cause me to be
-watched, followed, and apprehended, after a struggle, in which my life
-was nearly endangered; and did you not afterwards deceive me grossly,
-as to the time when the trial was to be brought on, and take every
-means of preventing me from accomplishing the end I had in view? Now,
-sir, you cannot deny it, and if you can, I will convict you by the
-testimony of your own spy. Your conduct towards members of your own
-flock might be explained away, perhaps, but this proves your object,
-if it does not prove your motives.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Are you not of my own flock?&quot; asked Mr. Filmer, in a tone of
-reproach. &quot;My son, I am sorry to hear of such a defalcation.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar paused, gazing silently in his face for a moment; and then, with
-a sudden start, he replied, &quot;I will not have the question turned from
-the straightforward course. Your object was, I say, to load an
-innocent man with a false charge, to deprive him of all means of
-establishing his innocence, and to see him condemned and suffer for
-that of which you knew him to be guiltless.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He spoke impetuously; but there was a truth, a sincerity, an
-earnestness in his whole tone and manner, which carried conviction to
-the hearts of those who heard it; and at a mere glance round, Mr.
-Filmer gathered enough, from the faces of the somewhat numerous
-auditory, to show him that he was condemned by the judgment of all
-present. But he quailed not; his brow grew stern, his look lofty, and
-he replied, in a loud, almost imperious tone, &quot;My object was, sir, to
-save you, and to save that lady from the wiles of the artful and
-ambitious: that is the great object that I have had in view in every
-act of mine which concerned that person.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">But his reply only still farther roused Edgar's indignation. &quot;Of me,
-sir,&quot; he said, &quot;you shall say what you like; but do not attempt again
-to mix my dear cousin's name with this business. With her, at least,
-you have nothing to do, except that, knowing you all along to be what
-you are, she has tolerated you in her house out of respect for my
-father; but I think if she had known, and my father had known, how
-deeply and shamelessly you have injured him, and injured one who is
-now a saint in heaven, she would never have suffered you to enter her
-gates, and he would have spurned you from his door.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What do you mean? whom do you mean?&quot; exclaimed Sir Arthur Adelon,
-starting forward, with a face as pale as ashes, and eyes haggard with
-intense emotion. &quot;Whom do you mean, my son? Whom do you mean, my
-Edgar?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;My mother,&quot; answered Edgar Adelon, in a slow and solemn tone; and
-almost as he spoke the words, Sir Arthur reeled and fell at his feet.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XLII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">The scene of confusion that ensued after the event related in the last
-chapter is not to be described. Every one crowded round Sir Arthur
-Adelon, and he was speedily raised and placed upon the sofa. Servants
-were called, water was sprinkled in his face, and all the usual
-restoratives were had recourse to for some time in vain. He opened his
-eyes faintly, indeed, for a moment, but he seemed instantly to
-relapse, and a servant was sent off in haste to Barhampton for the
-surgeon who usually attended him; for the only person who seemed to be
-sure that it was an ordinary fainting fit, though one of a very severe
-kind, was Captain M----, who, with kind and judicious words,
-encouraged Eda and Edgar to pursue their efforts, assuring them that
-they would be finally successful.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">At the end of half an hour Sir Arthur began to revive; and one or two
-of the guests, who had made their comfort yield to their politeness,
-then vacated the room, leaving only Captain M----, with Edgar, Dudley,
-Eda, and Helen. For some time the baronet seemed incapable of
-speaking, for though he looked round from time to time with an anxious
-glance, he remained perfectly silent, notwithstanding more than one
-inquiry as to how he felt. His first words, however, when he did
-speak, instantly recalled the subject which had interested them all so
-deeply the moment before he had fainted.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Where is the priest?&quot; he said. &quot;Where is Father Peter?&quot; And every one
-instantly looked round, and then, for the first time, perceived that
-he was gone. Eda would fain have diverted her uncle's attention from
-matters which she knew must be most painful to him; but Sir Arthur
-slowly raised himself upon the sofa, and would have got up entirely
-had his strength permitted, still repeating, &quot;Where is he? where is
-he? Seek him, seek him! Do not let him escape!&quot; Then pressing his hand
-upon his brow, he added, &quot;Can it be true? It has been a frightful
-dream to me for many a long year. Seek him, seek him, somebody! Oh! if
-it be true, I will tear his heart out!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley and Captain M---- hurried away from the room to inquire for the
-priest, while Eda assured her uncle that she doubted not he would soon
-be found; but Edgar, looking from the back of the sofa behind which he
-was standing, shook his head with a stern and mournful expression of
-face, as if to express a strong doubt that such would be the case.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">But little information of Father Filmer's movements could be obtained
-by Dudley and his companion from the servants. Some of them had seen
-him pass out of the breakfast-room, but not aware that any charge
-whatever had been brought against him, had taken no notice of so
-ordinary an occurrence. Others had seen him mount the staircase
-towards his own room, but when he was sought for there he was not
-found. No one had seen him quit the house, however; and though one or
-two of those who had lately come up the alley, or through the park,
-were questioned particularly on the subject, none could give any
-information, and every room to which it was supposed he might have
-betaken himself was examined in vain. Finding all their search
-fruitless, the two gentlemen at length returned to the breakfast-room,
-and found Sir Arthur half-seated, half-reclining on the sofa, but much
-more calm than he had been when they left him. He looked hard at
-Dudley for a moment without speaking, as if endeavouring to gain
-command over himself, and then said, in a cold and formal tone, &quot;Pray
-be seated, sir. You have brought some serious charges against a
-gentleman who has long lived with me as a friend, ay, for more than
-five-and-twenty years. Had you concluded all you wished to say?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There were other charges, Sir Arthur,&quot; replied Dudley, &quot;which in your
-eyes would be doubtless much more important. Those which I have
-brought affect myself alone; and though, perhaps, more immediately
-cognizant by the law, as coming nearly, if not quite, under the
-statute in regard to the subornation of evidence, is in my mind less
-criminal than his conduct towards you, whom, for the five-and-twenty
-years you speak of, he has deceived, betrayed, and injured. But on
-that subject, Sir Arthur, as I see it affects you much, it will be
-better to speak at a future period. Those charges which I have
-actually brought I am prepared to sustain immediately. Indeed, they
-can be proved at once by Mr. Clive, who is in the next room; or even
-this young lady,&quot; he continued, pointing to Helen, &quot;can give you full
-information. But all this had better also be referred to another
-occasion, when you will be more able to give attention to the
-subject.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;His presence would be necessary,&quot; said Sir Arthur, leaning his head
-upon his hand. &quot;But there is one question more, sir; one question
-more, and I have done for the present. Was it from you, sir, that my
-son derived the information which led him to utter the words he lately
-did?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, assuredly,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;but I can see clearly that his
-words pointed to the same painful subject, in regard to which I also
-have charges to make of a most serious character. Where he obtained
-his information I cannot tell.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;From the same source whence yours was derived, Dudley,&quot; replied
-Edgar. &quot;Only a few words were spoken; but connected with some old
-letters from my poor mother, they were enough to enlighten me as to
-much of the dark past.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur waved his hand as his son spoke, saying, &quot;I cannot hear it
-now; I will go to my own room. Come with me, Edgar. I shall have the
-honour of seeing you again this evening, sir,&quot; he continued, turning
-to Dudley, who replied, with a slight degree of embarrassment of
-manner, &quot;Assuredly, Sir Arthur, if you wish it; but if our farther
-conference is to be this evening, I must, I fear, be an intruder here
-till that time, for my present abode is near the place where we met
-shipwreck, twelve miles distant.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur Adelon was faint, agitated, and shaken; but yet a touch of
-his own self-important pride could not be repressed; and with an air
-by no means very well satisfied or altogether courteous, he replied,
-pointing to Eda, while he walked towards the door leaning on his son's
-arm, &quot;That lady is mistress of herself and of this house, and
-doubtless she will be happy in having your society.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, my dear uncle!&quot; said Eda, starting forward with a look of pain,
-&quot;how can you speak such unkind words?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Well, well!&quot; replied her uncle, kissing her brow, &quot;I do believe you
-love me, Eda; but no more just now.&quot; And he slowly quitted the room.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As soon as he was gone, Eda turned towards Dudley, with many mingled
-emotions in her bosom, which, had it not been for the presence of
-others, would probably have found relief in tears and in his arms. As
-it was, she gave him her hand, saying, &quot;You stay, of course, Dudley,
-and I trust will remain some days.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I must stay till this task is accomplished,&quot; he replied, and he would
-fain have added the dear, familiar name which he ever called her in
-his heart; but the presence of Captain M---- restrained him, and he
-would not call her Miss Brandon. &quot;I was not aware,&quot; he proceeded,
-&quot;that the information I have to convey would pain your uncle so deeply
-as the effect of the few words spoken by Edgar make me fear it will,
-or I would not have undertaken the task. We make sad mistakes in life,
-I am afraid, in judging of the character of others. We are too apt to
-suppose that one great predominant passion or weakness swallows up all
-others; and yet I am convinced, that if we looked into the heart of
-any man, be he the most ambitious, the most avaricious, the most vain,
-the most proud, we should find some well of tenderness hidden under
-the rubbish of life, which, if opened out again, might pour forth
-fresh and pure waters to revivify and beautify all around.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! that we had many searchers for such wells,&quot; said Eda; &quot;but it
-seems to me that men, in dealing with their fellow-men, rather labour
-to cover and hide them. But what can have become of Mr. Filmer? Do you
-think he has fled?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It would seem so,&quot; answered Dudley; &quot;and yet I can hardly imagine
-that one who has gone on for so many years in successful hypocrisy,
-would yield the field after so brief a struggle.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not know,&quot; said Captain M----; &quot;it may be that he finds himself
-fully detected, and then what a mass of fraud and sin must present
-itself to memory, and terrify him with the prospect of exposure and
-punishment! I remarked that he stood firm before all the charges
-brought against him in regard to his infamous and criminal conduct
-towards you, Dudley. It seemed as if he thought that, upon some
-principle he could justify himself, at least, to himself, for acts the
-most base; but when Mr. Adelon uttered those few words about his
-mother, my eye was upon him, and he gave way at once. I saw him shake
-in every limb, and should certainly have watched him narrowly, to
-prevent his escape, had not Sir Arthur occupied all my attention. But
-now, I think, I will mount my horse, and riding round for a few miles,
-endeavour to obtain some information regarding this man's place of
-retreat. It surely will not be so difficult here to overtake a
-bushranger as it is in the fifth quarter of the globe, Dudley?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As he spoke, Edgar re-entered the room with a quick step; but it was
-to Helen he now turned. He had only hitherto, throughout all the
-scenes which had taken place, spoken a few words to her, and given her
-one look; but the words and the look were both of love. He now led her
-at once into the deep window, and conversed eagerly with her, mingling
-inquiries about matters quite different with expressions of tenderness
-and affection.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;This bad man must be found, Helen, dearest,&quot; he said; &quot;you look pale,
-love, and anxious. I am the more eager to find him, my beloved,
-because he has disgraced the religion which we hold, perverting its
-pure precepts to suit the dark, foul purposes of his own heart. Even
-were it not for that, my Helen, I would pursue him throughout life;
-for he poisoned the sources of my dear mother's happiness, and has
-turned the noble nature of my father to a curse. Nay, look not up so
-imploringly in my face, sweet love, with those dear reproachful eyes,
-as if you thought your Edgar fierce and stern. It is only that I am
-eager, Helen, very eager; I have ever been so: eager in love; eager, I
-trust, in pursuit of justice and right; eager in defence of innocence;
-and surely I may be eager in the punishment of iniquity and wrong?
-Helen will not think me very wrong for being so?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Wrong, Edgar!&quot; she answered; &quot;do you not know I think everything you
-do right? I never saw you do anything that was wrong from our infancy
-till now.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! yes, many a thing,&quot; answered Edgar; and then dropping his voice,
-he added: &quot;When first I kissed those dear pouting lips, did you not
-tell me I was very wrong indeed? But, Helen, we must find this man,
-wherever he may be. I shall not rest in peace till I have made him,
-with his own lips, undo the wrong he did my mother. You know his
-haunts well. Tell me, love, where you think it most likely he would
-betake himself.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Not to our house, certainly,&quot; answered Helen, &quot;now that he knows we
-are aware of all his baseness to poor Mr. Dudley; and not to the
-cottage of Connor, unless it be to reproach him for exposing him. I
-really know not where he will go; surely not to the Priory!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No, I should think not,&quot; answered Edgar, musing. &quot;But here comes your
-father. This night shall set his heart at ease.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That will never be,&quot; replied Helen, with a very sorrowful look. &quot;The
-death of that unhappy young man still rests like a heavy weight upon
-him. You have but to look into his face to see that it is bearing him
-down to the earth.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I trust your happiness, dear Helen, may cheer him,&quot; answered her
-lover; &quot;and to secure that shall be Edgar's task.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Advancing towards Clive as he spoke, he put nearly the same questions
-to him which he had put to Helen, regarding the probable course which
-Mr. Filmer had pursued.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I should have thought he was more likely to turn and stand at bay
-than to fly,&quot; replied Mr. Clive; &quot;but if he has fled, it will be far,
-depend upon it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Then the more reason for seeking for him immediately,&quot; exclaimed
-Edgar. &quot;Come, Captain M----, let you and I set out. If I find him, I
-will venture to apprehend him without warrant, and risk whatever may
-be the result.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;There may be some risk, it is true,&quot; replied Captain M----, &quot;for it
-does not seem to me that he has committed any offence clearly
-cognizable by a magistrate. Indeed, I am afraid some of the greatest
-crimes that men can perpetrate have never yet been placed within the
-grasp of the law. But let us go; I will take my share of the
-responsibility.&quot; And leaving the little party in the breakfast-room,
-they went out to pursue their search.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XLIII.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">The rooms occupied by Sir Arthur Adelon at Brandon House consisted of
-a large dressing-room, and an old-fashioned chamber on the first
-floor, lined with dark oak, supporting a richly ornamented stucco
-ceiling, where cupids and naiads, and a great number of heterogeneous
-deities, were flirting away all round the cornices, with plaster of
-Paris fruits and flowers in their hands. A bed, which rivalled the
-celebrated one of Ware in its dimensions, with old-fashioned chintz
-curtains, stood at one side of the room, looking small and modest,
-from the extent of the space about it. Opposite the foot of the bed
-was a fire-place, with hand-irons for burning wood, and on each side
-of it were two doors, one leading into the dressing-room, and the
-other into a large commodious closet. The windows of the room were
-three, and the curtains, which were now drawn close, were of the same
-thick chintz as those which shrouded the bed. There was thus very
-little light admitted, although the stuff of which the curtains were
-composed was sufficiently diaphanous for the eye of any one within to
-mark the change of light and shadow, as the clouds passed through the
-air without. The door of the dressing-room was open, and one of the
-windows, partly thrown up, admitted the air of spring, which, to say
-the truth, was at the time we speak of somewhat sultry and oppressive.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It was but little after the hour of noon when Edgar Adelon and his
-companion rode away from the stable-yard at Brandon, and at that time
-Sir Arthur was seated in a chair before the table, with his head
-resting on his hand, and his eyes half shut. Painful emotions seemed
-to be passing through his mind, for the muscles of his face moved, and
-every now and then he would draw a deep and heavy sigh. Who shall say
-what was in his thoughts? Did he ponder over a life spent in vanities
-which had proved worse than ashes; of time misused in planting the
-seeds of very, very bitter fruit? Did he take that review of the long
-past, which every one, who has a mind capable of thinking, must
-sometimes ponder on in moments of silent, sleepless solitude? Did he
-consider how great wealth and lofty station, and high health and
-education, and every gift and every advantage which can decorate the
-fate of man, may be all rendered impotent of good to himself and
-others, by the pampering of one evil passion, by a devotion to one
-vanity or folly? Perhaps he did; but if so, if his eyes were keen
-enough, and his sight unsealed sufficiently to judge of the past
-justly, he saw that his weaknesses and his faults had been seized upon
-by a superior intellect, to render him, through their means,
-subservient to the views and purposes of others whose motives he even
-yet did not clearly distinguish.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;If he did that, he is a scoundrel indeed,&quot; said Sir Arthur, in a low
-murmur. &quot;He is a scoundrel,&quot; he added, the next moment; &quot;that is
-clear: for who but a scoundrel would, for any purpose, suborn evidence
-against an innocent man?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">But as that thought passed through his mind, a look of anguish came
-upon his countenance, and perhaps he felt that he had been art and
-part in the deeds he condemned. He might feel, too, that there were
-purposes, that there were passions, which, in the more vigorous days
-of life, would have led him, nay, had led him, to deeds little less
-base, and courses as tortuous as those which he viewed with horror in
-another.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">But, at the same time, whichever way he turned his eyes in the wide
-range of the past, that other was still by his side, encouraging him
-in all that he now regretted; suggesting the act to his mind,
-preparing the means to his hand, and, with insidious eloquence,
-removing the restraints of conscience and of feeling, while they rose
-up as obstacles to his purpose. He saw that the fiend's own work had
-been done with him; that his faults and his vices had but been
-employed to generate more, and to leave his heart in possession of
-remorse.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The sad and bitter contemplation went on for more than one hour. A
-servant quietly opened the door, and finding that he was up, and not
-asleep, told him that the surgeon had arrived from Barhampton; but Sir
-Arthur waved his hand, and saying that he was busy, desired to be left
-quite alone. &quot;I have no need of surgeons,&quot; he said; and as soon as the
-servant had retired, fell back into his reverie again. It lasted about
-half an hour longer, and then, wearied with the conflict of thought,
-he moved towards his bed, saying, &quot;I will lie down and sleep, if I
-can; then I shall be more able to encounter the task of the evening;
-for I must and will have it all explained. It is getting very dark: it
-cannot be dusk yet.&quot; And looking at his watch, he found that it was
-barely two o'clock. He accordingly laid down in his dressing-gown, and
-thought for half an hour longer before sleep reached him; but while
-the busy brain still worked, the ideas shifted and changed place, and
-became confused. He thought of Eda and of Dudley, and of the
-insinuations thrown out by the priest; and the vanity which was still
-at the bottom of his heart again poured forth bitter waters.
-&quot;Impossible,&quot; he said to himself; &quot;she cannot, she will not, she must
-not marry a convict; and yet she can do as she pleases. I have no
-authority over her; and this man, too, has me in his power, and he
-knows it. I can see that by his bold demeanour to-day. But I will not
-think of all these things: I will sleep. All that must be settled
-hereafter. And Edgar, too: there is another thorn in my side; but I do
-not mind that so much, for Clive is of as ancient blood as any in the
-land, and what though he be poor, that does not take from his descent.
-I wish it had happened otherwise; and I was foolish to suffer this to
-go on, but at least it is some satisfaction she is a Catholic. It
-might have been worse. It is very warm; I will open another window.&quot;
-But while he was thinking of rising to do so, his eyelids fell once or
-twice heavily, and he dropped into a quiet slumber.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">While he thus lay, with his hand partly fallen over the side of the
-bed, the light seemed to decrease in the room, and a large heavy drop
-or two of rain beat upon the windows, followed by a faint flash, and a
-distant roar of thunder. It did not wake Sir Arthur Adelon, however;
-and a minute or two after, the door of the large closet opened slowly
-and noiselessly, and a figure entered with a still and silent step. It
-was that of the priest, dressed in his usual dark apparel, and
-carrying a roll of paper in his hand. For a moment he paused, and
-looked around the room, then advanced to the table, and laid down the
-paper, saying, &quot;It will do as well.&quot; But the next instant his eye
-caught sight of the hand of Sir Arthur Adelon, which, as I have said,
-had dropped over the side of the bed, and with a bitter smile, Filmer
-advanced and gazed upon the sleeping face of him who had been once so
-much his friend. The clear, fair skin of the old man's cheek was still
-somewhat pale with the emotions of the day, and his brow still bore
-the trace of care. His mouth, too, moved from time to time, as if the
-busy thoughts which had been agitating him were yet at work within,
-prompting words which the chained lip refused to utter. As he gazed,
-the priest's look became stern and almost fierce; and it would seem
-that some thoughts or purposes suggested themselves to his mind, which
-other feelings induced him to reject, for he waved his arm, and spread
-forth his hand, as if he were throwing something from him, and
-murmured in a low voice, &quot;No!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The moment after, there was a vivid flash of lightning, which,
-notwithstanding the shade of the curtains, glared round the whole
-room, and made the face of the sleeping man look like that of a
-corpse. The rattle of the thunder succeeded, shaking the whole house;
-and Sir Arthur Adelon started and turned, as if to rise up from his
-bed. The priest instantly laid his hand upon his arm, saying, &quot;My
-son!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Sir Arthur gazed at him with a bewildered look, and then a sharp and
-angry expression came into his face. &quot;Ah! is that you!&quot; he said. &quot;They
-thought you were gone.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They mistook,&quot; replied the priest. &quot;Lie still, and hear me, for I
-have much to say. Your incorrigible weakness shows me, that it is vain
-to remain with you longer. I cannot make you what you ought to be, and
-now I leave you to yourself.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What I ought to be!&quot; said Sir Arthur Adelon, raising himself upon his
-arm. &quot;Have you not made me all I ought not to be?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;As the most precious medicines become the most hurtful poisons to
-some peculiar constitutions,&quot; answered the priest, &quot;so the best
-counsels to some men produce the worst results. Such has it been in
-your case; for the inherent feebleness of your mind was not capable of
-bearing the strong food that mine would have given it.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;This is too insolent!&quot; exclaimed the baronet, raising himself still
-farther, and stretching his hand towards the bell; but Filmer grasped
-his arm tight, with a menacing look, saying, &quot;Forbear! and remember,
-man, what must be the consequence of my staying here. If I go, it is
-in charity to you; for should I stay, depend upon it, it will be to
-expose, from the beginning to the end, the acts of a life the records
-of which I have put down here, lest your own memory should have been
-more treacherous than mine. Remember, I say, that everything, from
-first to last, is within my grasp, and that I can, when I please, open
-the casket, and pour out the jewels of proud Sir Arthur Adelon's good
-deeds for the admiring eyes of all the world. Remember, that against
-the code of honour, the laws of the land, and the dictates of
-religion, you have equally offended, and that if I remain, I remain to
-explain all.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The baronet evidently quailed before him; and sinking back upon his
-pillow again, he gazed up in his face for a moment in silence, and
-then said, &quot;Dark and evil man as you are, speak not of religion or of
-laws; but if you would do one act of charity before you go, explain to
-me, rather than to others, the saddest and the gloomiest page in my
-life's history. Relieve my mind of the heavy doubts and fears that
-have been upon it for many a long year; notwithstanding all the
-presumptions that you brought forward--ay, bitter as it may be--tell
-me, rather, that the wife whom I so dearly loved was really
-guilty--guilty of anything, rather than leave me to think that my
-unkindness killed her wrongfully. Speak, man, speak! Do not stand
-there, smiling at me like a fiend, but tell me, was she guilty or
-not?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;As innocent as the purest work of God,&quot; replied the priest; and as he
-spoke, a sharp shudder passed over the whole frame of Sir Arthur
-Adelon, and his face became distorted with various passions: sorrow,
-and rage, and remorse. &quot;Villain, villain, villain!&quot; he cried, &quot;then
-why did you so basely deceive me?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What, then, you have not seen Martin Oldkirk?&quot; said Filmer, with a
-look of some surprise. &quot;He is here, in this house, and will soon tell
-you all.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;What! Martin Oldkirk, my old servant?&quot; exclaimed the baronet. &quot;Ah! I
-see, I see the whole damnable plot. You--you corrupted him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Nay, not so,&quot; answered Filmer, in a still bitter contemptuous tone;
-&quot;but your own weak jealousy twisted his words from their right
-meaning, and made that serviceable to your suspicions which should
-only have confirmed your trust.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;At your suggestion, fiend!&quot; exclaimed Sir Arthur, fiercely. &quot;I
-remember it all, as well as if it were but yesterday. Oh! fool that I
-have been!&quot; And striking his clenched fist upon his forehead, he fell
-back again upon the bed from which he had once more partially risen.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;And fool that you ever will be,&quot; answered Filmer, with a look of
-contempt. &quot;Had that woman remained with you another year, she would
-have made you a heretic, as she was herself in heart.&quot; But his words
-fell upon an inattentive ear, for Sir Arthur Adelon had relapsed into
-the same state in which we have seen him during the morning. The
-priest gazed on him with a stern and thoughtful brow when he perceived
-that he had again fainted; but gradually a slight, a very slight smile
-curled his lip, and he said, speaking his thoughts aloud, &quot;What shall
-I do? He has fainted again. Pshaw! he will get better of this, as he
-has got better of many things. Poor, unhappy man, without firmness to
-carry forth good or evil! Had he but been firm, half of Yorkshire
-might have been Catholic at this day, and I, perhaps, a cardinal,&quot; and
-he added, the next moment, &quot;with power to direct the efforts of the
-true church, in a course which would insure to her the return of this
-darkened land to her motherly bosom.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">It was an after-thought, undoubtedly; for it is to be remarked, that
-in all hierarchies, where men are expected to merge personal passions
-and desires in the objects of a great body or institution, the
-passions and desires still remain; but by a cunning self-deceit, the
-individuals persuade themselves that they are made subservient to, or
-banished to open a space for, the general ends and purposes which the
-whole have in view. It is very seldom that a man can say, with
-sincerity and truth, &quot;I desire to be made a bishop or a cardinal, only
-for the good of religion.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Mr. Filmer perhaps felt that truth as much as any man; but yet he
-still persuaded himself that he was right, or at all events, affected
-to believe it; for the fraudulent juggle that goes on between man and
-his own heart, is almost always more or less successful where strong
-passions are engaged, and there were many strong passions which shared
-in the motive of every one of Mr. Filmer's actions. If one had
-examined closely, the promotion of his church's views would have been
-found to bear a very small and insignificant share in any of his
-proceedings; and yet, even to himself, he affected to believe it to be
-the great, the sole, the overpowering object of his endeavours.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">While he stood and gazed upon the face of Sir Arthur Adelon, as he lay
-like a corpse before him, the low-muttered thunder growled around his
-head, and the heavy drops of rain began to fall thick and fast,
-pattering in a deluge upon the windows, and splashing upon the turfy
-lawns. &quot;There is more in the hills,&quot; he said, &quot;and I must make haste,
-or the rivers will be swollen and stop me. I wonder which way the
-fools have taken who went in pursuit. The servants must have done
-dinner. But that matters not; they will not venture, I think, to
-oppose me, even if any one sees me; and that brutal idiot, Oldkirk,
-must be gone. I must even take my chance. Who minds the lightning?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">And yet such is human nature, the very next flash made him put his
-hands before his eyes and turn somewhat pale.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is awfully vivid,&quot; he said. &quot;This artillery of heaven, men think,
-is sent to punish the guilty alone: the immediate retribution of the
-Almighty. If so, why does it choose its aim so lucklessly? I have seen
-the loveliest and the purest struck by it; the murderer, the villain,
-and the false prophet pass through it unscathed. But I will go, lest a
-worse fate than that of the lightning should reach me. Farewell, old
-man!&quot; he continued, looking at the couch on which Sir Arthur Adelon
-was lying; &quot;after many years' sojourn on this earth together, you and
-I may never meet again. If friendship unvarying, and services not to
-be doubted, and counsels ever for the best, could have done aught with
-you, you should have had them, nay, you have had them. But you were
-too weak and idle to profit even by experience. Instead of full trust,
-you gave half confidence; instead of full obedience, you gave nothing
-but a questioning support; and the church must triumph wherever it
-sets its foot, or the day of its destruction is arrived.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">With this unvarying maxim of the Roman church, he turned away and left
-him, placing the papers he had brought farther on the table, with the
-claws of the inkstand to hold them safely down. He retired by the same
-means which had given him entrance; and without the slightest
-appearance of anxiety or haste, opened the first door and shut it
-behind him, then pulled back the private door which afforded a
-communication between his room and that of the baronet, and ascended a
-flight of steps which led to the chambers above.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">All remained still and quiet below; and in a few minutes, proceeding
-into the stable-yard, Mr. Filmer had mounted, without the slightest
-opposition, a horse which had been set apart for his own use while at
-Brandon, and was riding away, but in a direction different to that
-which Edgar and his friend had taken.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XLIV.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">They first paused at the park gates, Edgar Adelon and Captain
-M----, and asked, in a quiet, easy tone, if Mr. Filmer had lately
-passed. The answer, as the reader may anticipate, was, &quot;No;&quot; and
-separating, they rode round the whole extent of the wide space
-enclosed within the walls of Brandon Park--not less than four or five
-square miles--inquiring of every person whom they met, and at every
-cottage which they passed, but without receiving any intelligence
-whatever. After having made this circuit, they rode down to Clive
-Grange, where Edgar was received with the greatest joy by all the
-servants; but no information was afforded, till one of the
-maid-servants recollected having heard the ploughman say that he
-thought he had seen Father Peter walking over the downs towards
-Barhampton. Edgar, impetuous as usual, was for setting out
-immediately; but Captain M---- stopped to investigate the statement,
-and inquired when this vision was seen. That the maid could not tell,
-but informed him that the man had mentioned the fact when he came home
-to dinner, adding, however, that he had returned to his work. Finding
-that the spot where he was employed lay considerably out of the way,
-the two gentlemen set off again, taking the cottage of Daniel Connor
-as they went; but the door was locked, and nobody within.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">At Barhampton their inquiries were equally vain, though every quarter
-was applied to where it was supposed that anything like information
-could be obtained; and after a fruitless search of nearly an hour,
-they turned their horses' heads back towards Brandon, conversing on
-what it might be expedient to do next.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">By this time, however, the indications of an approaching storm were
-visible in the sky. Large clouds, not decked with the fleecy fringes
-of the soft spring, but hard, defined, and of a bluish black, were
-rising rapidly in the south; and as Edgar and his friend gazed over
-the wide scene which presented itself to the eye from the slope just
-out of the gates of Barhampton, a curious purple light spread over the
-whole, giving to field, and hill, and tree, those intense hues which
-are more frequently seen in southern lands.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Does not that put you in mind of Australia?&quot; asked Captain M----, as
-they rode on.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;In some degree,&quot; replied Edgar; &quot;but we shall have a fierce storm
-soon, or I am much mistaken. We had better leave the downs on the
-right, and cross the river by Clive Grange again. It will save us a
-mile.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The plan he proposed was followed; but long before they reached the
-stream, the storm, which was advancing as if to meet them, broke full
-upon their heads. The lightning flashed, and the thunder roared; but
-they suffered most from the rain, which poured down in torrents,
-mingled with enormous hailstones. On came the tempest, sweeping over
-the land, so lately bright and sunny, putting out every gleam of
-light, and involving all in a dark mist, only marked by the black
-lines of the descending hail.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The two horsemen urged their horses on at a rapid trot, taking the
-road past Mead's farm, and along the brow of the hill overhanging the
-river, to reach the bridge near Mr. Clive's house; and they remarked,
-as they rode along, that the waters below, usually so limpid and
-bright, were now turbid and red, whirling in rapid eddies, near the
-banks, but rushing on in foam and confusion, in the midst of the
-course.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why this is quite a torrent,&quot; said Captain M----, as they proceeded.
-&quot;When we passed this morning it was nothing but a clear trout-stream.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is sometimes very furious when there is much rain in the hills,&quot;
-replied Edgar. &quot;I remember it carrying away a mill some way higher up;
-miller, miller's man, and miller's wife, all went floating down
-together in their crazy dwelling; and yet, strange to say, no one was
-drowned.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;See, there is Mr. Clive and his daughter coming down the opposite
-slope,&quot; said the young officer.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Good heaven! Helen will be drenched in this deluge,&quot; exclaimed Edgar;
-and he was spurring on his horse to a still faster pace, when an event
-occurred which for an instant seemed to turn him to stone.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Helen and her father reached the bottom of the slope, and had already
-advanced about two-thirds of the way across the bridge, round the old
-piers of which the red torrent was beating angrily, when suddenly the
-part just before them gave way, and fell in a large mass into the
-river. Clive caught his daughter's arm, and was hurrying back; but the
-next instant the part beneath their feet cracked, leaned over to the
-side, fell, and with those whom it had supported the moment before,
-was plunged into the struggling waters.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">For an instant, as I have said, the sight of her he loved so
-enthusiastically, likely to perish before his sight, seemed to turn
-Edgar Adelon into stone; but it was only for an instant, and springing
-from his horse with one bound, he was down the bank, and into the
-midst of the torrent. He caught sight of Helen's dress as she rose
-again amidst the waters, and struck out strongly towards her, battling
-successfully with the fierce rage of the current, till it brought her
-down to where he was. His first grasp missed her, but his second
-caught her by the arm, and lifting her head above the stream, he
-struck back for the shore, holding her far from him, lest, in the
-terror and agitation of the moment, she should deprive him of the
-means of saving her; but Helen, with wonderful presence of mind, did
-not attempt to touch him. The bed of the river, as it has been before
-described, was narrow; and the current had luckily drifted her towards
-the side of Clive Grange. Thus, a few strong strokes brought Edgar to
-the bank, which was there not very steep, and without much difficulty
-he lifted her out, and had the joy of holding her in his arms alive.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">During the whole of the last events Edgar had remarked nothing that
-was passing near him. He saw Helen, and Helen only. He thought of
-nothing but Helen; but the moment after she was safe upon the shore,
-his thoughts turned to her father, and he looked eagerly around. With
-deep satisfaction, however, he perceived at a little distance Captain
-M---- helping the old man up the bank; and he discovered afterwards
-that his friend had plunged in at the same moment as himself, but that
-finding Helen's father was a good swimmer, and was striking for the
-shore, he merely kept near him, till he perceived that, when just near
-the bank, Clive began to sink. Helen was weak and faint, but she found
-strength, to hurry to her father's arms, as he sat upon the turf,
-supported by Captain M----; and all her first feelings were joy and
-satisfaction when she saw that he was still alive. He did not answer
-her when she spoke, however, but pressed his hand tight upon his side,
-seeming to breathe with difficulty. The next instant Helen perceived
-the blood trickling through his fingers, and clasping her hands
-together, she exclaimed, &quot;Oh, Edgar! he is hurt, he is very much
-hurt!&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;A little, a little, dear girl!&quot; said Clive, with a great effort. &quot;I
-shall soon be better; but it might be as well to send up to the Grange
-for some people to carry me up. I am too weak to walk. Thank God! you
-are safe, my dear child. It was that heavy beam struck me as we fell.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar sprang away towards the house, and returned in a very short time
-with some men carrying a sofa, on which the large, powerful frame of
-Mr. Clive was speedily laid, and he was conveyed to the Grange, and
-put to bed. It was then found that there was a deep lacerated wound on
-the left side of the chest, and an indentation, which seemed to show
-that several of the ribs had been broken. A man was immediately sent
-to bring the nearest surgeon; and Edgar was watching anxiously with
-Helen by the bedside of the injured man, while the lightning still
-continued to flash through the room and the thunder to roll overhead,
-when one of the maids put her head into the room, saying, &quot;Oh, Mr.
-Adelon! here is one of your servants wishes to speak with you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The woman's face expressed terror and agitation; and Edgar, starting
-up, demanded what was the matter.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, he says, sir, that Brandon has caught fire with the lightning,&quot;
-replied the woman, &quot;and they wish you to come up directly.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar turned a look to Clive, who said at once, as if in reply, &quot;Go,
-Edgar, go. Take the stone bridge higher up. Yet one word, my dear boy,
-before you depart.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar approached close to the bedside and bent down his head. &quot;Perhaps
-we may never meet again,&quot; said Clive, with a good deal of agitation in
-his voice. &quot;My Helen, Edgar! What will become of my Helen, if I am
-taken from her?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar took his hand and pressed it warmly. &quot;Eda will be a sister to
-her,&quot; he said, &quot;and I will be her husband; till then, a brother.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Go,&quot; said Clive, &quot;go! God's will be done! I am sure I may trust you,
-Edgar.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;On my honour, on my life, by everything I hold dear!&quot; answered Edgar;
-and with one parting caress to Helen, he hurried away.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Captain M---- was waiting for him below with the servant, who was
-beginning to pour forth the tale of the disaster at Brandon, when
-Edgar cut him short by eagerly demanding, &quot;Where are the horses?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;They are here in the court,&quot; answered Captain M----. &quot;Yours led the
-way, and mine followed. This is, indeed, a day of disasters; but I do
-hope that no great injury has been done at Brandon, for this rain must
-have kept down the fire.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It was blazing away, sir, like a hundred lime-pits, when I was
-sent off to seek you,&quot; replied the servant, following them to the
-court-yard.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Were all safe?&quot; demanded Edgar, eagerly; but the man could give him
-no satisfactory account of the inmates, merely telling him that the
-lightning had struck the older part of the building towards the back,
-and that the flames had instantly spread from room to room with the
-utmost rapidity and fury.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">As the horses had not been unsaddled, no time was lost; and riding up
-the stream to a stone bridge about half a mile higher on its course,
-they soon reached the gates of Brandon Park. The lodge was empty, the
-gates were open; and dashing between the trees of the avenue, so as to
-reach the open space whence the house was first visible, Edgar
-strained his eyes forward to see whether the fire was still going on.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">A good deal of smoke was apparent, rising from one part of the
-building, but no flames were to be perceived, and the servant, riding
-up to Edgar's side, said, in a glad tone, &quot;They have got it under,
-sir. It is very different now from what it was when I came away.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">His master paused not to listen, however, but spurred on towards the
-terrace, where a number of people were to be seen moving about
-confusedly hither and thither, amongst whom, one group might be
-distinguished bearing out something that looked like a mattress
-towards the court and stable-yard. Edgar thought of his father, and
-that chilly feeling came over his heart which is said to be sometimes
-premonitory of approaching sorrow. When he came nearer, he perceived
-Dudley and Eda following those who had gone on into the court; and he
-called loudly to them, for they had not remarked his approach. Dudley
-instantly turned, said a word or two to Eda, and then hurried forward
-to meet her cousin.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The fire is extinguished, Edgar,&quot; he said, in a grave tone, as they
-met. &quot;It is only the second floor and part of the first that are
-destroyed. Come with me, and you shall see.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Is every one safe?&quot; demanded Edgar, gazing in Dudley's face; and
-before the other could answer, he added, &quot;My father! Where is my
-father?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">His friend did not answer him at once, and he was darting away towards
-the court-yard, when Dudley laid his hand upon his arm, saying, &quot;Do
-not go thither now, Edgar. Come apart with me, and I will tell you
-all.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I must; I will go at once!&quot; exclaimed Edgar Adelon, passing him; and
-with a rapid step he hurried on across the terrace, round the angle of
-the house, and towards the great gates of the court-yard. On the right
-was a large building, used as a billiard-room; and under shelter of
-the ornamental porch, Edgar saw Eda, with fair face bedewed with
-tears. She instantly came forward to meet him, saying, &quot;Wait a few
-moments, Edgar. Do not go in there now, my dear cousin.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">But Edgar passed her too, with a sad look, saying, &quot;It must come once,
-Eda. Why not now?&quot; When he entered the room he found five or six men
-laying a mattress, with some bed-clothes that covered it, upon the
-billiard-table, and pushing through them he beheld his father
-stretched out, cold and stiff, but with no mark of fire or injury
-whatsoever upon him, and a calm and placid look upon his countenance.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The young man gazed upon his parent's face for several moments with a
-look of sad, stern thought, while the servants and labourers who were
-present drew back as soon as they perceived who it was that
-interrupted them in their melancholy task. As he gazed, many memories
-crowded on him; paternal tenderness and affection, innumerable sweet
-domestic scenes, words spoken long ago, kindly looks and tones of
-love; and with that sad feeling which ever takes possession of the
-bosom, when with any of the near and dear the silver chain is broken,
-the tears rose up into Edgar Adelon's eyes, and fell upon the dead
-man's hand.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">He wished not to be seen to weep; and turning away without a word, he
-gave one hand to Eda, and the other to Dudley, who had been standing
-close behind him, and with them left the chamber of the dead.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XLV.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">Six or eight hours before Brandon had been one of the most convenient
-and comfortable houses in the whole county. Everything about it had
-displayed that aspect of ancient and undiminished respectability and
-wealth which, thirty years ago, was the general characteristic of the
-English gentleman's country seat; and now, when Edgar Adelon, with Eda
-and Dudley, entered the hall, although the fire had never reached that
-floor, and had but partially destroyed the floor above, the scene of
-confusion and disarray left in the mansion scarcely a trace of its
-former self. Large quantities of furniture, books, chests of papers,
-valuable pictures, and objects of art, were piled up, without order or
-regularity, in the hall and the various rooms around it, and streams
-of water were flowing over the marble pavement of the vestibule, and
-soaking the thick carpets of the drawing-room, the library, and the
-dining-room.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Of all seasons, when the empty-minded and the selfish-hearted, who are
-inherently bores at all times, are the most oppressive, the season of
-grief and anxiety is foremost. At other moments we are obliged to
-tolerate them, as one of the evils of a high state of refinement. Do
-not let any one suppose this a paradox; for there is no doubt of the
-fact, that as &quot;the sun breeds maggots in a dead dog,&quot; (I do not know
-that I quote very accurately), so a refined state of society generates
-both empty heads and cold hearts. At other times, I say, we bear them
-as one of the evils of our social state; but then they become
-perfectly intolerable. We find, then, that there are human beings in
-every outward form and lineament like ourselves, who, nevertheless,
-are not of our nature, nor, apparently, of our race; we feel, or we
-fancy, that monkeys might be princes amongst them.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Eda had a great deal to suffer from creatures of this kind during that
-day. The peer, and the baronet, and the wealthy esquire, had returned
-from their several occupations in time to witness the conflagration at
-Brandon; and after having taken care of their horses and their
-carriages, and all their other effects, they had gathered together to
-interrupt the servants and country people by giving assistance. As
-soon as they saw Eda, however, enter the house with her cousin and Mr.
-Dudley, they found it courteous to go in and condole with her; and
-although she bore the infliction with wonderful patience, Edgar did
-not approach by any means so near to the character of Job.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">One or two of his brisk sayings soon scattered the party, and after
-having, in a very polite manner, ascertained that the fire was
-entirely extinguished, the three gentlemen I have mentioned took their
-leave, got their carriages and horses, and departed. Dudley made no
-show of going, for he knew that he should still be a welcome guest;
-and Captain M---- also remained, though not till he had received a
-pressing request from Edgar to do so.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We can put you up somewhere,&quot; he said; &quot;and there are things to be
-investigated, in which, perhaps, you can help me. Stay with us here in
-the library, M----, now that those tiresome people are away, and let
-me inquire how this fire originated in reality, and how my poor father
-met with his death. I do not understand all this,&quot; he added, solemnly
-and sternly. &quot;There is no trace of fire upon my father's person. I
-have strange suspicions; and before I give way to grief I must think
-of justice. I must see the people who first entered his room;&quot; and
-going to the door, he gave orders to one of the servants in the hall
-to bring all those who had been present at the early part of the
-catastrophe into the library.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;This is a sad business for us all, dear Eda,&quot; he said, turning
-towards his cousin, who was seated in the recess of one of the
-windows, from time to time wiping the tears from her eyes. &quot;Your
-beautiful place is well nigh destroyed.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Would I could repair your loss, Edgar,&quot; replied Eda, &quot;as easily as
-mine can be repaired.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It must be some comfort to you, Edgar,&quot; said Dudley, who had hitherto
-scarcely spoken a word, &quot;to know that your father did not suffer. It
-is impossible that any violence could have been offered to him; it is
-equally impossible that the fire can have reached him or injured him
-in any way; and I am inclined to think that he was never conscious of
-its existence, for I was one of the first who entered his room;
-indeed, there were only two who mounted the stairs before me; and when
-I strove to wake him I found that he was no more; nay, his hand was
-quite cold. The room, indeed, was full of smoke, but the air was not
-sufficiently loaded to suffocate any one who was not in a fainting
-fit, or exceedingly debilitated.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Who was there first?&quot; demanded Edgar.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The butler and Martin Oldkirk ran up together,&quot; replied Dudley; &quot;and
-I followed as soon as I had seen Eda upon the terrace. For some time
-we did not at all imagine the house was on fire, although there was a
-strong smell of burning wood; but at length the smoke came rolling
-down the stairs, and at the same time, it seems, one of the keepers
-from the park rushed into the offices, saying that the whole roof was
-in flames.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! here come the men!&quot; cried Edgar. &quot;Now, Martin Oldkirk, my good
-friend, stand forward and tell me what you found, when first you went
-into my father's room.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It was the butler, sir, went in first,&quot; said Martin Oldkirk. &quot;I was
-waiting in his pantry, as I had been ordered; and when the alarm of
-fire came he ran on first, saying he must save Sir Arthur, and I
-followed. There was a good deal of smoke in the room, but no fire;
-indeed, it is uninjured even now. We both ran to the bed, and found
-Sir Arthur lying upon it, but there was no sign of life about him. Mr.
-Dudley came in the next moment, and the valet a minute after. Sir
-Arthur was dressed as he is now; and we took him up and carried him
-down, first to the dining-hall, and then out to the billiard-room, as
-you saw.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;You are sure there was nobody in the room when you entered?&quot; asked
-Edgar Adelon.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No one, sir,&quot; replied Oldkirk; &quot;but there was a packet of papers,
-written in a hand which I know well, and so I took it up, and have got
-it here.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Give it to me,&quot; said Edgar; and gazing at the first lines he
-exclaimed, &quot;This is Filmer's handwriting. That man must have been in
-the house when we went away. This letter is dated to-day, and it was
-not there when I left my father. I charge you, my friends, most
-solemnly, to tell me if any of you have seen him within the last four
-hours.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh yes! Mr. Edgar,&quot; said one of the grooms, coming forward. &quot;He went
-away about an hour and a-half or two hours ago. I saddled his horse
-for him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I am sure he was in Sir Arthur's room just about luncheon time,&quot; said
-the valet; &quot;for knowing that my master was not well, I went up to see
-if he wanted anything, and not liking to disturb him, I listened at
-the door. I heard some people speaking loud, and I can swear that one
-of the voices was Father Peter's. It was just about the time when the
-storm began.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar gazed gloomily at the papers in his hand, and Dudley demanded,
-&quot;Did you hear any of the words, sir, that passed?&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Why, Sir Arthur seemed very angry,&quot; replied the man; &quot;and I heard him
-cry out, 'Villain, villain, villain!' I should have opened the door,
-and had my hand upon the lock, but then Sir Arthur went on speaking
-more quietly, so that I was sure no one was hurting him.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Let us ascertain at once,&quot; said Captain M----, &quot;how the fire really
-originated; for this affair, it seems to me, will assume a very
-serious aspect if it cannot be shown that it was caused by the
-lightning, as we have been led to suppose.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! Lord bless ye; yes, sir, it was caused by the lightning, sure
-enough,&quot; replied one of the keepers. &quot;Why, as I was standing on
-Little-green hill, as we call it, just at t'other side of the park,
-towards the back there, I saw something come down from the sky in a
-great stream, just as I have seen a man pour out a ladleful of lighted
-pitch, only ten times at fast, and it hit the corner of the roof, and
-in a minute all the slates flew about like dust, and then there was a
-blaze just at the same place. So I took to my heels as fast as
-possible, and never stopped running till I got into the servants'
-hall, but by that time the place was all in a blaze.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;That is so far satisfactory,&quot; said Captain M----; &quot;and I believe, my
-dear Adelon,&quot; he added, &quot;you will find that the melancholy event,
-which we must all deplore, has taken place by natural causes. It is
-probable that the conversation between your father and Mr. Filmer was
-of an angry and agitating character. Sir Arthur, who was much shaken
-in the morning, was ill able to bear fresh anxiety or sorrow. He may
-have again fainted before or after the priest left him, and the
-suffocating effect of the smoke may have done the rest. You add to
-your grief, which must be poignant enough, by suspicions, for which,
-at present, I see no cause.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;No cause, my friend!&quot; said Edgar. &quot;If you could look at this paper
-which I hold in my hand, but which I dare not show you or any one, you
-would see at once that there is cause to suspect that bad man of
-anything; for there is nothing evil, nothing wicked, which he has not
-done himself, or prompted others to do, and which he boldly avows here
-as the means to a great end. That end must, indeed, be accursed, to
-which such means are necessary. That can never be holy which treads
-such unholy paths. This paper will give me matter for deep thought,<a name="div4Ref_03" href="#div4_03"><sup>[3]</sup></a>
-may make a change in all my views, and may teach me to renounce many
-opinions instilled into me in youth, if I should find that a religion,
-which I have hitherto considered pure and holy, naturally requires
-fraud, ignorance, and wrong, for its support. I say not how I shall
-act, I know not how I shall act; but I do say, and I do know, that
-this thing will force upon me a review of all my previous convictions,
-and I trust that God will give me understanding to judge in the end
-aright.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Pray God it be so!&quot; said Eda Brandon; but she said no more, although
-she felt, and had ever felt, that a religion which pretended to rest
-upon revelation, and yet withheld that revelation from the great mass
-of the people, commenced with an error which has characterised every
-pagan idolatry, and opened the way to corruptions the most gross, and
-abominations the most foul.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Every one else was silent for a moment, and then Edgar moved his hand,
-saying, &quot;I will keep you no longer, my good friends. Perhaps your
-testimony may be wanted in a more formal inquiry on a future day. But,
-in the mean time, remember that this man, this Mr. Filmer, whom we
-have all been accustomed most mistakenly to reverence, has been proved
-to be guilty of the most horrible deceits, and is charged with crimes
-of a very serious character. If, then, any of you should meet with
-him, hear of him, or know where he is to be found, it is your duty to
-give him up to justice, that the accusations against him may be
-patiently investigated. At present, you had better go and get some
-refreshment after all your labours; and I am sure my cousin will
-reward and thank you for the services you have rendered.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The strength of mental exertion seemed to have kept him up till the
-servants and others, who had been summoned to the library, quitted the
-room; but when they were gone, he threw himself down in a chair,
-before the large table where his father had so often sat, and resting
-his arms upon it, bent down his head till his eyes were hid upon them,
-and remained thus in silence for several minutes, while Eda, and
-Dudley, and Captain M----, spoke together earnestly, but in a low
-voice.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">By this time the shades of evening were beginning to come over the
-sky, and although the rain had ceased, the clouds were heavy and dark.
-Yet a gleam of yellow light was seen beneath, towards the west, and
-Dudley, laying his hand upon Eda's, said, &quot;See, Eda, there is hope in
-the midst of sorrow: I will go and speak to Edgar. There are many
-things more painful in the events of the day than even the death of a
-father whom he loved. He must be roused by new incitements to action;
-and there is cause, too, for exertion.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Advancing a step or two towards Edgar, he laid his hand upon his
-shoulder gently, saying, &quot;Do not give way, my friend. Heavy sorrows
-have befallen you; but there are duties to be performed, efforts to be
-made, important steps to be considered. Our friend, Captain M----,
-tells me that poor Mr. Clive has met with a terrible accident, and it
-is his opinion that Helen Clive may both have to encounter fresh
-grief, and be left without protection or comfort.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar started up as if his words had roused a new spirit within him,
-and Dudley continued thus:--&quot;Under these circumstances, Eda is
-inclined to take refuge at the Grange, where there is plenty of room.
-She would not do so if she did not look upon Helen, and Helen did not
-look upon her, as a sister.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar started forward, in his impetuous way, towards his fair cousin,
-and taking her hand, pressed his lips upon it with tears in his eyes.
-&quot;Thank you, Eda,&quot; he said; &quot;thank you for Helen, thank you for myself.
-I know what leads you to the Grange, and I must go with you.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;We will all go down,&quot; said Dudley. &quot;I trust that our evil
-anticipations may be found premature; but should the worst happen,
-Helen will need all the comfort that can be given to her. There are
-many things, however, first to be done here, Edgar; and although I now
-boldly claim a right to act on Eda's behalf, yet it is but fitting
-that her nearest and dearest surviving relation should join his voice
-to mine in all matters. There is another task, Edgar, which you must
-entrust to me. Painful as it must be, I think I can promise to perform
-it according to your wishes; and in the few cases where a doubt may
-occur to me, as to how I should act, I will apply to yourself.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar pressed his hand warmly in his own, murmuring, &quot;Dudley, we are
-brothers;&quot; and Dudley, turning away his head for a moment, answered,
-&quot;Come, Edgar, we must give directions for restoring some degree of
-order here, and for setting a watch, to ensure, that if the fire
-should break out again in any place where it is yet smouldering, it
-shall be extinguished at once. Then we will all go down to the Grange;
-and after seeing what is the state of poor Mr. Clive, Captain
-M---- and myself will leave you and Eda there, and find lodgings for
-the night somewhere in the neighbourhood.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Much, indeed, remained to be done, and many orders to be given before
-the party could set out; but the mind of Edgar Adelon, in many scenes
-of trial and difficulty, had gained much strength since first we saw
-him; and to a strong mind exertion is relief, even under the load of
-grief.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h4>CHAPTER XLVI.</h4>
-<br>
-
-<p class="normal">The clouds had passed away from the sky, the stars shone out clear and
-bright, when Edgar Adelon, with his cousin Eda, Edward Dudley, and
-Helen, stood by the bed-side of Mr. Clive; but the clouds of sorrow
-had not yet passed from the minds of any there present: the star of
-Hope was hidden, though it might still be in the sky. There was a
-surgeon sitting by the sick man's side, with his hand upon the pulse,
-Helen's eyes were fixed eagerly upon the face of the man of healing,
-but after a moment or two he raised his look to hers, and shook his
-head gravely.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;It is of no use, my child,&quot; said Clive, in a low and feeble tone. &quot;I
-am on the eve of the long departure. I feel death gaining upon me
-fast; life is at an end, and with it manifold cares, sorrows, and
-apprehensions. I am going, I trust, to a happier place, where none of
-these things can disturb me, and where your beloved mother has long
-been awaiting me. This feeling, this hope, would make my going very
-tranquil, were it not that even now all the tender yearnings of a
-father's heart for the welfare of his child are as strong upon me as
-ever, Helen. Oh! who can ever know till they have felt it, what fears,
-what hopes, what thoughts, and cares for the beloved ones, rush
-through a father's heart and brain at every moment of existence, and
-make his life one long care for them. I ought not to let them disturb
-me now, in this last solemn scene; but still, Helen, your fate is my
-anxiety, my only anxiety.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Helen wept; but Edgar Adelon once more came forward to the dying man's
-bed-side, and said, with an earnest, though low-toned voice, &quot;Be not
-anxious, Mr. Clive; sweep that anxiety away. Helen is mine, as soon as
-ever she will. I am now, alas, my own master, to do as I think best. I
-am certain that this is best;&quot; and he took Helen's hand, and kissed
-it. &quot;But there may be anxieties even beyond that, Mr. Clive,&quot; he
-added. &quot;You may think that though she be the wife of Edgar Adelon, she
-may yet be an unhappy wife; but here I vow, as solemnly as man can vow
-anything, that my whole existence shall be devoted to her happiness.
-If ever any of those things which men say disturb domestic
-tranquillity: a hasty word, an angry feeling, a discontented thought
-should occur, although my deep love now tells me they cannot, I will
-think of this moment; I will think of this promise; I will think of
-the fate of my own dear mother; and I will hasten to atone to Helen
-with all my heart. You know me, Mr. Clive; you know how I have loved
-her from boyhood; and I think you will not doubt that I shall love her
-to the end.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;I do not doubt you, Edgar,&quot; said Mr. Clive, very, very faintly. &quot;I
-have watched and known you from a boy, as you say, and I know that
-your enthusiasms, in love or friendship, are not only warm, but
-enduring. Mine have been so too, but there has been too much vehemence
-with me. I doubt not your intentions in the least either; but I only
-doubt that others may interfere to forbid that which you are yourself
-thoroughly disposed to perform. You say that you are your own master:
-I know not what you mean.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar shook his head sadly, and replied, &quot;My father has gone where her
-father is going. We have been children together, and we shall be
-orphans together. In all things our fate will be united. She is mine;
-I am hers; and in heart and spirit, in love and truth, in hopes and
-fears, in joys and sorrows, on this earth and I trust in heaven, we
-shall be one.&quot;</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;Amen!&quot; said Mr. Clive; and raising his hand, as if in the act of
-giving a solemn benediction, his head sunk back on the pillow, and the
-spirit took its flight.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">* * * * *
-* * * * *</p>
-
-<p class="normal">There were many tears shed at Brandon House and Clive Grange; and on
-one day, followed by the same mourners, carried to the same burial
-ground, that of the old Priory, the representatives of the ancient and
-noble houses of Adelon and Clive were committed to the earth. They had
-died in the same faith in which they and their ancestors lived; and a
-Roman Catholic priest, as amiable and excellent as he whom it has been
-my painful task in these pages to depict was base and evil, solemnised
-the last rites of their church amongst the mouldering remains of ages
-past away.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Some months went by, and Eda Brandon and Helen Clive kept their
-mourning state at the Grange, while Edgar took up his abode at the
-lodge of Brandon Park, and surrounded with books, seemed to forget
-himself in deep study, except during those hours which he spent with
-her he loved.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Dudley was absent more than once, and remained absent for several
-weeks at a time; but Eda Brandon did not think his passion cooled, and
-she knew there was no cause to suppose so; for he was engaged in
-sweeping the last trace of the convict from his name, and recording
-the proofs of his innocence in such a manner that doubt or shame could
-never visit him. He had property to claim, too, and to receive, which
-removed all suspicion that he sought wealth rather than love in his
-marriage with Eda Brandon; and towards the autumn, about the same
-period of the year when he had first visited Brandon Park, his fate
-was united with hers, on the same day that Helen became the wife of
-Edgar Adelon.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">To say that every trace of the events which had so chequered Dudley's
-early life with dark shadows was swept away, even in the intense joy
-of his union with her he loved, would be false, for there was a shade
-rested upon him; but perhaps, although his happiness was of a graver
-cast than it might have been had unvarying prosperity shone upon his
-whole career, it was not less deep, less full, less enduring.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Edgar Adelon's joy in his marriage with Helen Clive was brighter and
-more lively. People somewhat wondered that the benediction of the
-Romish church was not asked to his union with Helen Clive; but it
-speedily became rumoured that both had, a few days before, in a quiet
-and unostentatious manner, renounced the errors in which they had been
-brought up. Inquiry had produced conviction, and they acted with open
-minds and clear consciences, knowing that neither persuasion, nor
-sophistry, nor interest, had been allowed to have any effect; but that
-the simple study of that holy Word, which is closed in so many
-countries of the earth to those who seek the waters of life, had given
-them a knowledge of the truth, which none could take from them.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">The fate of Mr. Filmer remained a mystery. He was never again seen in
-England; but Captain M----, while on his bridal tour through Italy,
-wrote to his friends at Brandon, that amongst the monks at Camaldoli
-he had caught sight of a face which he was convinced was that of
-Father Peter; and it is certain that, not long after, with money which
-came from that country, Daniel Connor set out for Rome, and joined
-himself to a religious community of the most severe and penitential
-rule.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Martin Oldkirk was well provided for by Dudley and Edgar Adelon; and
-though he remained a stern and somewhat thoughtful man, and retained a
-feeling of wrathful grief at the remembrance that words of his,
-perverted by the priest, should have been used to destroy the
-happiness of an innocent and beloved mistress, yet his heart was
-softened by prosperity and opened to enjoyment.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">Norries is still living in Australia. It is supposed he might have
-obtained a full pardon some time ago, if he had thought fit to apply
-for it; but such was not the case; and contented where he is, he goes
-on seeing a new population growing up around him, to whom, from time
-to time, he communicates his own transcendental notions on political
-subjects; but he has gained experience from the past, and whatever he
-may seek himself, or teach others to aim at, he always inculcates the
-doctrine, that moral force is the only just means by which a triumph
-can be obtained over injustice or wrong.</p>
-
-<p class="normal">&quot;The axe, the sword, and the pike,&quot; he says, &quot;belonged to ages when
-the physical triumphed over the intellectual. The age of reason and of
-mental power has begun, and truth and argument are the weapons with
-which the bad must be conquered, and the good armed for battle. The
-thunder of a nation's voice is worth the roar of a thousand cannon;
-and knowledge, and conscience, and right, are arms which no armies can
-withstand.&quot;</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3>
-
-<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_01" href="#div4Ref_01">Footnote 1</a>: This word
-is usually wrongly written <i>ĉrie</i>, as if
-derived from <i>aer</i> or <i>air</i>, but I am convinced it comes from the
-German word <i>ey</i>, an egg.</p>
-<br>
-<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_02" href="#div4Ref_02">Footnote 2</a>: These fish
-in the Murrumbidgee and other rivers sometimes
-reach the weight of a hundred or a hundred and twenty pounds. They are
-evidently genuine perch, although the colonists call them river cod.</p>
-<br>
-<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_03" href="#div4Ref_03">Footnote 3</a>: The little
-history of a life here referred to, may be
-given to the public at a future period, as it is neither uninteresting
-nor uninstructive; but, for various reasons, it must not be printed at
-present.</p>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-<h3>THE END.</h3>
-<br>
-<br>
-<br>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
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