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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..923e8fd --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51174 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51174) diff --git a/old/51174-8.txt b/old/51174-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6c833a1..0000000 --- a/old/51174-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15917 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man in Black, 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 Man in Black - An Historical Novel of the Days of Queen Anne - -Author: G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford) James - -Release Date: February 11, 2016 [EBook #51174] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN IN BLACK *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by -Google Books (University of Minnesota) - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page scan source: - https://books.google.com/books?id=GtVAAQAAMAAJ - (University of Minnesota) - 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. - - -THE MAN IN BLACK. - -AN - -Historical Novel of the Days of Queen Anne. - -BY - ----------------------------------------------------------------------- -G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ. - -AUTHOR OF "LORD MONTAGU'S PAGE," "THE CAVALIER," "ARRAN NEIL," "EVA -ST. CLAIR," "MARY OF BURGUNDY," "PHILIP AUGUSTUS," ETC., ETC. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- - ------------------------ -COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. ------------------------ - - - -Philadelphia: -T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS, -306 CHESTNUT STREET. - - - - - ----------------------------------------------------------------------- -Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by - -T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, - -In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, to -and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - - -THE MAN IN BLACK. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -Let me take you into an old-fashioned country house, built by -architects of the early reign of James the First. It had all the -peculiarities--I might almost say the oddities--of that particular -epoch in the building art. Chimneys innumerable had it. Heaven only -knows what rooms they ventilated; but their name must have been -legion. The windows were not fewer in number, and much more irregular: -for the chimneys were gathered together in some sort of symmetrical -arrangement, while the windows were scattered all over the various -faces of the building, with no apparent arrangement at all. Heaven -knows, also, what rooms they lighted, or were intended to light, for -they very little served the purpose, being narrow, and obstructed by -the stone mullions of the Elizabethan age. Each, too, had its label of -stone superincumbent, and projecting from the brick-work, which might -leave the period of construction somewhat doubtful--but the gables -decided the fact. - -They, too, were manifold; for although the house had been built all at -once, it seemed, nevertheless, to have been erected in detached -masses, and joined together as best the builder could; so that there -were no less than six gables, turning north, south, east, and west, -with four right angles, and flat walls between them. These gables were -surmounted--topped, as it were, by a triangular wall, somewhat higher -than the acute roof, and this wall was constructed with a row of -steps, coped with freestone, on either side of the ascent, as if the -architect had fancied that some man or statue would, one day or -another, have to climb up to the top of the pyramid, and take his -place upon the crowning stone. - -It was a gloomy old edifice: the bricks had become discolored; the -livery of age, yellow and gray lichen, was upon it; daws hovered round -the chimney tops; rooks passed cawing over it, on the way to their -conventicle hard by; no swallow built under the eaves; and the trees, -as if repelled by its stern, cold aspect, retreated from it on three -sides, leaving it alone on its own flat ground, like a moody man -amidst a gay society. On the fourth side, indeed, an avenue--that is -to say, two rows of old elms--crept cautiously up to it in a winding -and sinuous course, as if afraid of approaching too rapidly; and at -the distance of some five or six hundred yards, clumps of old trees, -beeches, and ever-green oaks, and things of sombre foliage, dotted the -park, only enlivened by here and there a herd of deer. - -Now and then, a milk-maid, a country woman going to church or market, -a peasant, or at game-keeper, might be seen traversing the dry brown -expanse of grass, and but rarely deviating from a beaten path, which -led from one stile over the path wall to another. It was all sombre -and monotonous: the very spirit of dulness seemed to hang over it; and -the clouds themselves--the rapid sportive clouds, free denizens of the -sky, and playmates of the wind and sunbeam--appeared to grow dull and -tardy, as they passed across the wide space open to the view, and to -proceed with awe and gravity, like timid youth in the presence of -stern old age. - -Enough of the outside of the house. Let me take you into the interior, -reader, and into one particular room--not the largest and the finest; -but one of the highest. It was a little oblong chamber, with one -window, which was ornamented--the only ornament the chamber had--with -a decent curtain of red and white checked linen. On the side next the -door, and between it and the western wall, was a small bed. A -walnut-tree table and two or three chairs were near the window. In one -corner stood a washing-stand, not very tidily arranged, in another -chest of drawers; and opposite the fire-place, hung from nails driven -into the wall, two or three shelves of the same material as the table, -each supporting a row of books, which, by the dark black covers, brown -edges, and thumbed corners, seemed to have a right to boast of some -antiquity and much use. - -At the table, as you perceive, there is seated a boy of some fifteen -years of age, with pen and ink and paper, and an open book. If you -look over his shoulder, you will perceive that the words are Latin. -Yet he reads it with ease and facility, and seeks no aid from the -dictionary. It is the "Cato Major" of Cicero. Heaven! what a book for -a child like that to read! Boyhood studying old age! - -But let us turn from the book, and examine the lad himself more -closely. See that pale face, with a manlike unnatural gravity upon it. -Look at that high broad brow, towering as a monument above the eyes. -Remark those eyes themselves, with their deep eager thought; and then -the gleam in them--something more than earnestness, and less than -wildness--a thirsty sort of expression, as if they drank in that they -rested on, and yet were unsated. - -The brow rests upon the pale fair hand, as if requiring something to -support the heavy weight of thoughts with which the brain is burdened. -He marks nothing but the lines of that old book. His whole soul is in -the eloquent words. He hears not the door open; he sees not that tall, -venerable, but somewhat stiff and gaunt figure, enter and approach -him. He reads on, till the old man's Geneva cloak brushes his arm, and -his hand is upon his shoulder. Then he starts up--looks around--but -says nothing. A faint smile, pleasant yet grave, crosses his finely -cut lip; but that is the only welcome, as he raises his eyes to the -face that bends over him. Can that boy in years be already aged in -heart? - -It is clear that the old man--the old clergyman, for so he evidently -is--has no very tender nature. Every line of his face forbids the -supposition. The expression itself is grave, not to say stern. There -is powerful thought about it, but small gentleness. He seems one of -those who have been tried and hardened in some one of the many fiery -furnaces which the world provides for the test of men of strong minds -and strong hearts. There has been much persecution in the land; there -have been changes, from the rigid and severe to the light and -frivolous--from the light and frivolous to the bitter and cruel. There -have been tyrants of all shapes and all characters within the last -forty years, and fools, and knaves, and madmen, to cry them on in -every course of evil. In all these chances and changes, what fixed and -rigid mind could escape the fangs of persecution and wrong? He had -known both; but they had changed him little. His was originally an -unbending spirit: it grew more tough and stubborn by the habit of -resistance; but its original bent was still the same. - -Fortune--heaven's will--or his own inclination, had denied him wife or -child; and near relation he had none. A friend he had: that boy's -father, who had sheltered him in evil times, protected him as far as -possible against the rage of enemies, and bestowed upon him the small -living which afforded him support. He did his duty therein -conscientiously, but with a firm unyielding spirit, adhering to the -Calvinistic tenets which he had early received, in spite of the -universal falling off of companions and neighbors. He would not have -yielded an iota to have saved his head. - -With all his hardness, he had one object of affection, to which all -that was gentle in his nature was bent. That object wits the boy by -whom he now stood, and for whom he had a great--an almost parental -regard. Perhaps it was that he thought the lad not very well treated; -and, as such had been his own case, there was sympathy in the matter. -But besides, he had been intrusted with his education from a very -early period, had taken a pleasure in the task, had found his scholar -apt, willing, and affectionate, with a sufficient touch of his own -character in the boy to make the sympathy strong, and yet sufficient -diversity to interest and to excite. - -The old man was tenderer toward him than toward any other being upon -earth; and he sometimes feared that his early injunctions to study and -perseverance were somewhat too strictly followed--even to the -detriment of health. He often looked with some anxiety at the -increasing paleness of the cheek, at the too vivid gleam of the eye, -at the eager nervous quivering of the lip, and said within himself, -"This is overdone." - -He did not like to check, after he had encouraged--to draw the rein -where he had been using the spur. There is something of vanity in us -all, and the sternest is not without that share which makes man shrink -from the imputation of error, even when made by his own heart. He did -not choose to think that the lad had needed no urging forward and yet -he would fain have had him relax a little more, and strove at times to -make him do so. But the impulse had been given: it had carried the -youth over the difficulties and obstacles in the way to knowledge, and -now he went on to acquire it, with an eagerness, a thirst, that had -something fearful in it. A bent, too, had been given to his mind--nay, -to his character, partly by the stern uncompromising character of him -to whom his education had been solely intrusted, partly by his own -peculiar situation, and partly by the subjects on which his reading -had chiefly turned. - -The stern old Roman of the early republic; the deeds of heroic -virtue--as virtue was understood by the Romans; the sacrifice of all -tender affections, all the sensibilities of our nature to the rigid -thought of what is right; the remorseless disregard of feelings -implanted by God, when opposed to the notion of duties of man's -creation, excited his wonder and his admiration, and would have -hardened and perverted his heart, had not that heart been naturally -full of kindlier affections. As it was, there often existed a -struggle--a sort of hypothetical struggle--in his bosom, between the -mind and the heart. He asked himself sometimes, if he could sacrifice -any of those he knew and loved--his father, his mother, his brother, -to the good of his country, to some grave duty; and he felt pained and -roused to resistance of his own affections when he perceived what a -pang it would cost him. - -Yet his home was not a very happy one; the kindlier things of domestic -life had not gathered green around him. His father was varying and -uneven in temper, especially toward his second son; sometimes stern -and gloomy, sometimes irascible almost to a degree of insanity. -Generous, brave, and upright, he was; but every one said, that a wound -he had received on the head in the wars, had marvelously increased the -infirmities of his temper. - -The mother, indeed, was full of tenderness and gentleness; and -doubtless it was through her veins that the milk of human kindness had -found its way into that strange boy's heart. But yet she loved her -eldest son best, and unfortunately showed it. - -The brother was a wild, rash, reckless young man, some three years -older; fond of the other, yet often pleased to irritate--or at least -to try, for he seldom succeeded. He was the favorite, however, -somewhat spoiled, much indulged; and whatever was done, was done for -him. He was the person most considered in the house; his were the -parties of pleasure: his the advantages. Even now the family was -absent, in order to let him see the capital of his native land, to -open his mind to the general world, to show him life on a more -extended scale than could be done in the country; and his younger -brother was left at home, to pursue his studies in dull solitude. - -Yet he did not complain; there was not even a murmur at his heart. He -thought it all quite right. His destiny was before him. He was to -form his fortune for himself, by his own abilities, his own learning, -his own exertions. It was needful he should study, and his greatest -ambition for the time was to enter with distinction at the University; -his brightest thoughts of pleasure, the comparative freedom and -independence of a collegiate life. - -Not that he did not find it dull; that gloomy old house, inhabited by -none but himself and few servants. Sometimes it seemed to oppress him -with a sense of terrible loneliness; sometimes it drove him to think -of the strange difference of human destinies, and why it should be -that--because it had pleased Heaven one man should be born a little -sooner or a little later than another, or in some other place--such a -wide interval should be placed between the different degrees of -happiness and fortune. - -He felt, however, that such speculations were not good; they led him -beyond his depth; he involved himself in subtilties more common in -those days than in ours; he lost his way; and with passionate -eagerness flew to his books, to drive the mists and shadows from his -mind. Such had been the case even now: and there he sat, unconscious -that a complete and total change was coming over his destiny. - -Oh, the dark workshop of Fate! what strange things go on therein, -affecting human misery and joy, repairing or breaking shackles for the -mind, the means of carrying us forward in a glorious cause, the -relentless weights which hurry us down to destruction! While you sit -there and read--while I sit here and write, who can say what strange -alterations, what combinations in the must discrepant things may be -going on around--without our will, without our knowledge--to alter the -whole course of our future existence? Doubtless, could man make his -own fate, he would mar it; and the impossibility of doing so is good. -The freedom of his own actions is sufficient, nay, somewhat too much; -and it is well for the world, aye, and for himself--that there is an -overruling Providence which so shapes circumstances around him, that -he cannot go beyond his limit, flutter as he will. - -There is something in that old man's face more than is common with -him--a deeper gravity even than ordinary, yet mingled with a -tenderness that is rare. There is something like hesitation, -too--ay, hesitation even in him who during a stormy life has seldom -known what it is to doubt or to deliberate: a man of strict and ready -preparation, whose fixed, clear, definite mind was always prompt and -competent to act. - -"Come, Philip, my son," he said, laying his hand, as I have stated, on -the lad's shoulder, "enough of study for to-day. You read too hard. -You run before my precepts. The body must have thought as well as the -mind; and if you let the whole summer day pass without exercise, you -will soon find that under the weight of corporeal sickness the -intellect will flag and the spirit droop. I am going for a walk. Come -with me; and we will converse of high things by the way." - -"Study is my task and my duty, sir." replied the boy; "my father tells -me so, you have told me so often, and as for health I fear not. I seem -refreshed when I get up from reading, especially such books as this. -It is only when I have been out long, riding or walking, that I feel -tired." - -"A proof that you should ride and walk the more," replied the old man. -"Come, put on your hat and cloak. You shall read no more to-day. There -are other thoughts before you; you know, Philip," he continued, "that -by reading we get but materials, which we must use to build up an -edifice in our own minds. If all our thoughts are derived from others -gone before us, we are but robbers of the dead, and live upon labors -not our own." - -"Elder sons," replied the boy, with a laugh, "who take an inheritance -for which they toiled not." - -"Something worse than that," replied the clergyman, "for we gather -what we do not employ rightly--what we have every right to possess, -but upon the sole condition of using well. Each man possessed of -intellect is bound to make his own mind, not to have it made for him; -to adapt it to the times and circumstances in which he lives, squaring -it by just rules, and employing the best materials he can find." - -"Well, sir, I am ready," replied the youth, after a moment of deep -thought; and he and his old preceptor issued forth together down the -long staircase, with the slant sunshine pouring through the windows -upon the unequal steps, and illuminating the motes in the thick -atmosphere we breathe, like fancy brightening the idle floating things -which surround us in this world of vanity. - -They walked across the park toward the stile. The youth was silent, -for the old man's last words seemed to have awakened a train of -thought altogether new. - -His companion was silent also; for there was something working within -him which embarrassed and distressed him. He had something to tell -that young man, and he knew not how to tell it. For the first time in -his life he perceived, from the difficulty he experienced in deciding -upon his course, how little he really knew of his pupil's character. -He had dealt much with his mind, and that he comprehended well--its -depth, its clearness, its powers; but his heart and disposition he had -not scanned so accurately. He had a surmise, indeed, that there were -feelings strong and intense within; but he thought that the mind ruled -them with habitual sway that nothing could shake. Yet he paused and -pondered; and once he stopped, as if about to speak, but went on again -and said nothing. - -At length, as they approached the park wall, he laid his finger on his -temple, muttering to himself, "Yes, the quicker the better. 'Tis well -to mingle two passions. Surprise will share with grief--if much grief -there be." Then turning to the young man, he said, "Philip, I think -you loved your brother Arthur?" - -He spoke loudly, and in plain distinct tones; but the lad did not seem -to remark the past tense he used. "Certainly, sir," he said, "I love -him dearly. What of that?" - -"Then you will be very happy to hear," replied the old man, "that he -had been singularly fortunate--I mean that he has been removed from -earth and all its allurements--the vanities, the sins, the follies of -the world in which he seemed destined to move, before he could be -corrupted by its evils, or his spirit receive a taint from its vices." - -The young man turned and gazed on him with inquiring eyes, as if still -he did not comprehend what he meant. - -"He was drowned," said the clergyman, "on Saturday last, while sailing -with a party of pleasure on the Thames;" and Philip fell at his feet -as senseless as if he had shot him. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -I must not dwell long upon the youthful scenes of the lad I have just -introduced to the reader; but as it is absolutely needful that his -peculiar character should be clearly understood, I must suffer it to -display itself a little farther before I step from his boyhood to his -maturity. - -We left Philip Hastings senseless upon the ground, at the feet of his -old preceptor, struck down by the sudden intelligence he had received, -without warning or preparation. - -The old man was immeasurably shocked at what he had done, and he -reproached himself bitterly; but he had been a man of action all his -life, who never suffered thought, whether pleasant or painful, to -impede him. He could think while he acted, and as he was a strong man -too, he had no great difficulty in taking the slight, pale youth up in -his arms, and carrying him over the park stile, which was close at -hand, as the reader may remember. He had made up his mind at once to -bear his young charge to a small cottage belonging to a laborer on the -other side of the road which ran under the park wall; but on reaching -it, he found that the whole family were out walking in the fields, and -both doors and windows were closed. - -This was a great disappointment to him, although there was a very -handsome house, in modern taste, not two hundred yards off. But there -were circumstances which made him unwilling to bear the son of Sir -John Hastings to the dwelling of his next neighbor. Next neighbors are -not always friends; and even the clergyman of the parish may have his -likings and dislikings. - -Colonel Marshal and Sir John Hastings were political opponents. The -latter was of the Calvinistic branch of the Church of England--not -absolutely a non-juror, but suspected even of having, a tendency that -way. He was sturdy and stiff in his political opinions, too, and had -but small consideration for the conscientious views and sincere -opinions of others. To say the truth, he was but little inclined to -believe that any one who differed from him had conscientious views or -sincere opinions at all; and certainly the demeanor, if not the -conduct, of the worthy Colonel did not betoken any fixed notion or -strong principles. He was a man of the Court--gay, lively, even witty, -making a jest of most things, however grave and worthy of reverence. -He played high, generally won, was shrewd, complaisant, and particular -in his deference to kings and prime ministers. Moreover, he was of the -very highest of the High Church party--so high, indeed, that those who -belonged to the Low Church party, fancied he must soon topple over -into Catholicism. - -In truth, I believe, had the heart of the Colonel been very strictly -examined, it would have been found very empty of anything like real -religion. But then the king was a Roman Catholic, and it was pleasant -to be as near him as possible. - -It may be asked, why then did not the Colonel go the same length as -his Majesty? The answer is very simple. Colonel Marshal was a shrewd -observer of the signs of the times. At the card table, after the three -first cards were played, he could tell where every other card in the -pack was placed. Now in politics he was nearly as discerning; and he -perceived that, although King James had a great number of honors in -his hand, he did not hold the trumps, and would eventually lose the -game. Had it been otherwise, there is no saying what sort of religion -he might have adopted. There is no reason to think that -Transubstantiation would have stood in the way at all; and as for the -Council of Trent, he would have swallowed it like a roll for his -breakfast. - -For this man, then, Sir John Hastings had both a thorough hatred and a -profound contempt, and he extended the same sensations to every member -of the family. In the estimation of the worthy old clergyman the -Colonel did not stand much higher; but he was more liberal toward the -Colonel's family. Lady Annabelle Marshal, his wife, was, when in the -country, a very regular attendant at his church. She had been -exceedingly beautiful, was still handsome, and she had, moreover, a -sweet, saint-like, placid expression, not untouched by melancholy, -which was very winning, even in an old man's eyes. She was known, too, -to have made a very good wife to a not very good husband; and, to say -the truth, Dr. Paulding both pitied and esteemed her. He went but -little to the house, indeed, for Colonel Marshal was odious to him; -and the Colonel returned the compliment by never going to the church. - -Such were the reasons which rendered the thought of carrying young -Philip Hastings up to The Court--as Colonel Marshal's house was -called--anything but agreeable to the good clergyman. But then, what -could he do? He looked in the boy's face. It was like that of a -corpse. Not a sign of returning animation showed itself. He had heard -of persons dying under such sudden affections of the mind; and so -still, so death-like, was the form and countenance before him, as he -laid the lad down for a moment on the bench at the cottage door, that -his heart misgave him, and a trembling feeling of dread came over his -old frame. He hesitated no longer, but after a moment's pause to gain -breath, caught young Hastings up in his arms again, and hurried away -with him toward Colonel Marshal's house. - -I have said that is was a modern mansion; that is to imply, that it -was modern in that day. Heaven only knows what has become of it now; -but Louis Quatorze, though he had no hand in the building of it, had -many of its sins to answer for--and the rest belonged to Mansard. It -was the strangest possible contrast to the old-fashioned country seat -of Sir John Hastings, who had his joke at it, and at the owner -too--for he, too, could jest in a bitter way--and he used to say that -he wondered his neighbor had not added his own name to the building, -to distinguish it from all other courts; and then it would have been -Court Marshal. Many were the windows of the house; many the ornaments; -pilasters running up between the casements, with sunken panels, -covered over with quaint wreaths of flowers, as if each had an -embroidered waistcoat on; and a large flight of steps running down -from the great doorway, decorated with Cupids and cornucopias running -over with this most indigestible kind of stone-fruit. - -The path from the gates up to the house was well graveled, and ran in -and out amongst sundry parterres, and basins of water, with the -Tritons, &c., of the age, all spouting away as hard as a large -reservoir on the top of the neighboring slope could make them. But for -serviceable purposes these basins were vain, as the water was never -suffered to rise nearly to the brim; and good Dr. Paulding gazed on -them without hope, as he passed on toward the broad flight of steps. - -There, however, he found something of a more comfortable aspect. The -path he had been obliged to take had one convenience to the dwellers -in the mansion. Every window in that side of the house commanded a -view of it, and the Doctor and his burden were seen by one pair of -eyes at least. - -Running down the steps without any of the frightful appendages of the -day upon her head, but her own bright beautiful hair curling wild like -the tendrils of a vine, came a lovely girl of fourteen or fifteen, -just past the ugly age, and blushing in the spring of womanhood. There -was eagerness and some alarm in her face: for the air and haste of the -worthy clergyman, as well as the form he carried in his arms, spoke as -plainly as words could have done that some accident had happened; and -she called to him, at some distance, to ask what was the matter. - -"Matter, child! matter!" cried the clergyman, "I believe I have half -killed this poor boy." - -"Killed him!" exclaimed the girl, with a look of doubt as well as -surprise. - -"Ay, Mistress Rachael," replied the old man, "killed him by unkindly -and rashly telling him of his brother's death, without preparation." - -"You intended it for kind, I am sure," murmured the girl in a sweet -low tone, coming down the steps, and gazing on his pale face, while -the clergyman carried the lad up the steps. - -"There, Miss Marshal, do not stay staring," said Dr. Paulding; "but -pray call some of the lackeys, and bid them bring water or hartshorn, -or something. Your lady-mother must have some essences to bring -folks out of swoons. There is nothing but swooning at Court, I am -told--except gaming, and drinking, and profanity." - -The girl was already on her way, but she looked back, saying, "My -father and mother are both out; but I will soon find help." - -When the lad opened his eyes, there was something very near, which -seemed to him exceedingly beautiful--rich, warm coloring, like that of -a sunny landscape; a pair of liquid, tender eyes, deeply fringed and -full of sympathy; and the while some sunny curls of bright brown hair -played about his cheek, moved by the hay-field breath of the sweet -lips that bent close over him. - -"Where am I?" he said. "What is the matter? What has happened? Ah! now -I recollect. My brother--my poor brother! Was it a dream?" - -"Hush, hush!" said a musical voice. "Talk to him, sir. Talk to him, -and make him still." - -"It is but too true, my dear Philip," said the old clergyman; "your -brother is lost to us. But recollect yourself, my son. It is weak to -give way in this manner. I announced your misfortune somewhat -suddenly, it is true, trusting that your philosophy was stronger than -it is--your Christian fortitude. Remember, all these dispensations are -from the hand of the most merciful God. He who gives the sunshine, -shall he not bring the clouds? Doubt not that all is merciful; and -suffer not the manifestations of His will to find you unprepared or -unsubmissive." - -"I have been very weak," said the young man, "but it was so sudden! -Heaven! how full of health and strength he looked when he went away! -He was the picture of life--almost of immortality. I was but as a reed -beside him--a weak, feeble reed, beside a sapling oak." - -"'One shall be taken, and the other left,'" said the sweet voice of -the young girl; and the eyes both of the youth and the old clergyman -turned suddenly upon her. - -Philip Hastings raised himself upon his arm, and seemed to meditate -for a moment or two. His thoughts were confused and indistinct. He -knew not well where he was. The impression of what had happened was -vague and indefinite. As eyes which have been seared by the lightning, -his mind, which had lost the too vivid impression, now perceived -everything in mist and confusion. - -"I have been very weak," he said, "too weak. It is strange. I thought -myself firmer. What is the use of thought and example, if the mind -remains thus feeble? But I am better now I will never yield thus -again;" and flinging himself off the sofa on which they had laid him, -he stood for a moment on his feet, gazing round upon the old clergyman -and that beautiful young girl, and two or three servants who had been -called to minister to him. - -We all know--at least, all who have dealt with the fiery things of -life--all who have felt and suffered, and struggled and conquered, and -yielded and grieved, and triumphed in the end--we all know how -short-lived are the first conquests of mind over body, and how much -strength and experience it requires to make the victory complete. To -render the soul the despot, the tyranny must be habitual. - -Philip Hastings rose, as I have said, and gazed around him. He -struggled against the shock which his mere animal nature had received, -shattered as it had been by long and intense study, and neglect of all -that contributes to corporeal power. But everything grew hazy to his -eyes again. He felt his limbs weak and powerless; even his mind -feeble, and his thoughts confused. Before he knew what was coming, he -sunk fainting on the sofa again, and when he woke from the dull sort -of trance into which he had fallen, there were other faces around him; -he was stretched quietly in bed in a strange room, a physician and a -beautiful lady of mature years were standing by his bedside, and he -felt the oppressive lassitude of fever in every nerve and in every -limb. - -But we must turn to good Doctor Paulding. He went back to his rectory -discontented with himself, leaving the lad in the care of Lady -Annabelle Marshal and her family. The ordinary--as the man who carried -the letters, was frequently called in those days--was to depart in an -hour, and he knew that Sir John Hastings expected his only remaining -eon in London to attend the body of his brother down to the family -burying place. It was impossible that the lad could go, and the old -clergyman had to sit down and write an account of what had occurred. - -There was nothing upon earth, or beyond the earth, which would have -induced him to tell a lie. True, his mind might be subject to such -self-deceptions as the mind of all other men. He might be induced to -find excuses to his own conscience for anything he did that was -wrong--for any mistake or error in judgment; for, willfully, he never -did what was wrong; and it was only by the results that he knew it. -But yet he was eagerly, painfully upon his guard against himself. He -knew the weakness of human nature--he had dealt with it often, and -observed it shrewdly, and applied the lesson with bitter severity to -his own heart, detecting its shrinking from candor, its hankering -after self-defense, its misty prejudices, its turnings and windings to -escape conviction; and he dealt with it as hardly as he would have -done with a spoiled child. - -Calmly and deliberately he sat down to write to Sir John Hastings a -full account of what had occurred, taking more blame to himself than -was really his due. I have his feet, gazing round upon the old -clergyman called it a full account, though it occupied but one page of -paper, for the good doctor was anything but profuse of words; and -there are some men who can say much in small space. He blamed himself -greatly, anticipating reproach; but the thing which he feared the most -to communicate was the fact that the lad was left ill at the house of -Colonel Marshal, and at the house of a man so very much disliked by -Sir John Hastings. - -There are some men--men of strong mind and great abilities--who go -through life learning some of its lessons, and totally neglecting -others--pre-occupied by one branch of the great study, and seeing -nothing in the course of scholarship but that. Dr. Paulding had no -conception of the change which the loss of their eldest son had -wrought in the heart of Sir John and Lady Hastings. The second--the -neglected one--had now become not only the eldest, but the only one. -His illness, painfully as it affected them, was a blessing to them. It -withdrew their thoughts from their late bereavement. It occupied their -mind with a new anxiety. It withdrew it from grief and from -disappointment. They thought little or nothing of whose house he was -at, or whose care he was under; but leaving the body of their dead -child to be brought down by slow and solemn procession to the country, -they hurried on before, to watch over the one that was left. - -Sir John Hastings utterly forgot his ancient feelings toward Colonel -Marshal. He was at the house every day, and almost all day long, and -Lady Hastings was there day and night. - -Wonderful how--when barriers are broken down--we see the objects -brought into proximity under a totally different point of view from -that in which we beheld them at a distance. There might be some -stiffness in the first meeting of Colonel Marshal and Sir John -Hastings, but it wore off with exceeding rapidity. The Colonel's -kindness and attention to the sick youth were marked. Lady Annabelle -devoted herself to him as to one of her own children. Rachael Marshal -made herself a mere nurse. Hard hearts could only withstand such -things. Philip was now an only child, and the parents were filled with -gratitude and affection. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -The stone which covered the vault of the Hastings family had been -raised, and light and air let into the cold, damp interior. A ray of -sunshine, streaming through the church window, found its way across -the mouldy velvet of the old coffins as they stood ranged along in -solemn order, containing the dust of many ancestors of the present -possessors of the manor. There, too, apart from the rest were the -coffins of those who had died childless; the small narrow -resting-place of childhood, where the guileless infant, the father's -and mother's joy and hope, slept its last sleep, leaving tearful eyes -and sorrowing hearts behind, with naught to comfort but the blessed -thought that by calling such from earth, God peoples heaven with -angels; the coffins, too, of those cut off in the early spring of -manhood, whom the fell mower had struck down in the flower before the -fruit was ripe. Oh, how his scythe levels the blossoming fields of -hope! There, too, lay the stern old soldier, whose life had been given -up to his country's service, and who would not spare one thought or -moment to soften domestic joys; and many another who had lived, -perhaps and loved, and passed away without receiving love's reward. - -Amongst these, close at the end of the line, stood two tressels, ready -for a fresh occupant of the tomb, and the church bell tolled heavily -above, while the old sexton looked forth from the door of the church -toward the gates of the park, and the heavy clouded sky seemed to -menace rain. - -"Happy the bride the sun shines upon: happy the corpse the heaven -rains upon!" said the old man to himself. But the rain did not come -down; and presently, from the spot where he stood, which overlooked -the park-wall, he saw come on in slow and solemn procession along the -great road to the gates, the funeral train of him who had been lately -heir to all the fine property around. The body had been brought from -London after the career of youth had been cut short in a moment of -giddy pleasure, and father and mother, as was then customary, with a -long line of friends, relations, and dependents, now conveyed the -remains of him once so dearly loved, to the cold grave. - -Only one of all the numerous connections of the family was wanting on -this occasion, and that was the brother of the dead; but he lay slowly -recovering from the shock he had received, and every one had been told -that it was impossible for him to attend. All the rest of the family -had hastened to the hall in answer to the summons they had received, -for though Sir John Hastings was not much loved, he was much respected -and somewhat feared--at least, the deference which was paid to him, no -one well knew why, savored somewhat of dread. - -It is a strange propensity in many old persons to hang about the grave -to which they are rapidly tending, when it is opened for another, and -to comment--sometimes even with a bitter pleasantry--upon an event -which must soon overtake themselves. As soon as it was known that the -funeral procession had set out from the hall door, a number of aged -people, principally women, but comprising one or two shriveled men, -tottered forth from the cottages, which lay scattered about the -church, and made their way into the churchyard, there to hold -conference upon the dead and upon the living. - -"Ay, ay!" said one old woman, "he has been taken at an early time; but -he was a fine lad, and better than most of those hard people." - -"Ay, Peggy would praise the devil himself if he were dead," said an -old man, leaning on a stick, "though she has never a good word for the -living. The boy is taken away from mischief, that is the truth of it. -If he had lived to come down here again, he would have broken the -heart of my niece's daughter Jane, or made a public shame of her. What -business had a gentleman's son like that to be always hanging about a -poor cottage girl, following her into the corn-fields, and luring her -out in the evenings?" - -"Faith! she might have been proud enough of his notice," said an old -crone; "and I dare say she was, too, in spite of all your conceit, -Matthew. She is not so dainty as you pretend to be; and we may see -something come of it yet." - -"At all events," said another, "he was better than this white-faced, -spiritless boy that is left, who is likely enough to be taken earlier -than his brother, for he looks as if breath would blow him away." - -"He will live to do something yet, that will make people talk of him;" -said a woman older than any of the rest, but taller and straighter; -"there is a spirit in him, be it angel or devil, that is not for death -so soon." - -"Ay! they're making a pomp of it, I warrant," said another old woman, -fixing her eyes on the high road under the park wall, upon which the -procession now entered. "Marry, there are escutcheons enough, and -coats of arms! One would think he was a lord's son, with all this to -do! But there is a curse upon the race anyhow; this man was the last -of eleven brothers, and I have heard say, his father died a bad death. -Now his eldest son must die by drowning--saved the hangman something, -perchance--we shall see what comes of the one that is left. 'Tis a -curse upon them ever since Worcester fight, when the old man, who is -dead and gone, advised to send the poor fellows who were taken, to -work as slaves in the colonies." - -As she spoke, the funeral procession advanced up the road, and -approached that curious sort of gate with a penthouse over it, erected -probably to shelter the clergyman of the church while receiving the -corpse at the gate of the burial-ground, which was then universally to -be found at the entrance to all cemeteries. She broke off abruptly, as -if there was something still on her mind which she had not spoken, and -ranging themselves on each side of the church-yard path, the old men -and women formed a lane down which good Dr. Paulding speedily moved -with book in hand. The people assembled, whose numbers had been -increased by the arrival of some thirty or forty young and -middle-aged, said not a word as the clergymen marched on, but when the -body had passed up between them, and the bereaved father followed as -chief-mourner, with a fixed, stern, but tearless eye, betokening more -intense affliction perhaps, in a man of his character, than if his -cheeks had been covered with drops of womanly sorrow, several voices -were heard saying aloud. "God bless and comfort you, Sir John." - -Strange, marvelously strange it was, that these words should come from -tongues, and from those alone, which had been so busily engaged in -carping censure and unfeeling sneers but the moment before. It was the -old men and women alone who had just been commenting bitterly upon the -fate, history, and character of the family, who now uttered the unfelt -expressions of sympathy in a beggar-like, whining tone. It was those -who really felt compassion who said nothing. - -The coffin had been carried into the church, and the solemn rites, the -beautiful service of the Church of England, had proceeded some way, -when another person was added to the congregation who had not at first -been there. All eyes but those of the father of the dead and the lady -who sat weeping by his side, turned upon the new-comer, as with a face -as pale as death, and a faltering step, he took his place on one of -the benches somewhat remote from the rest. There was an expression of -feeble lassitude in the young man's countenance, but of strong -resolution, which overcame the weakness of the frame. He looked as if -each moment he would have fainted, but yet he sat out the whole -service of the Church, mingled with the crowd when the body was -lowered into the vault, and saw the handful of earth hurled out upon -the velvet coffin, as if in mockery of the empty pride of all the pomp -and circumstance which attended the burial of the rich and high. - -No tear came into his eyes--no sob escaped from his bosom; a slight -quivering of the lip alone betrayed that there was strong agitation -within. When all was over, and the father still gazing down into the -vault, the young lad crept quietly back into a pew, covered his face -with his hand, and wept. - -The last rite was over. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust were committed. -Sir John Hastings drew his wife's arm through his own, and walked with -a heavy, steadfast, and unwavering step down the aisle. Everybody drew -back respectfully as he passed; for generally, even in the hardest -hearts, true sorrow finds reverence. He had descended the steps from -the church into the burying ground, and had passed half way along the -path toward his carriage, when suddenly the tall upright old woman -whom I have mentioned thrust herself into his way, and addressed him -with a cold look and somewhat menacing tone-- - -"Now, Sir John Hastings," she said, "will you do me justice about that -bit of land? By your son's grave I ask it. The hand of heaven has -smitten you. It may, perhaps, have touched your heart. You know the -land is mine. It was taken from my husband by the usurper because he -fought for the king to whom he had pledged his faith. It was given to -your father because he broke his faith to his king and brought evil -days upon his country. Will you give me back the land, I say? Out man! -It is but a garden of herbs, but it is mine, and in God's sight I -claim it." - -"Away out of my path," replied Sir John Hastings angrily. "Is this a -time to talk of such things? Get you gone, I say, and choose some -better hour. Do you suppose I can listen to you now?" - -"You have never listened, and you never will," replied the old woman, -and suffering him to pass without further opposition, she remained -upon the path behind him muttering to herself what seemed curses -bitter and deep, but the words of which were audible only to herself. - -The little crowd gathered round her, and listened eagerly to catch the -sense of what she said, but the moment after the old sexton laid his -hand upon her shoulder and pushed her from the path, saying, "Get -along with you, get along with you, Popish Beldam. What business have -you here scandalizing the congregation, and brawling at the church -door? You should be put in the stocks!" - -"I pity you, old worm," replied the old woman, "you will be soon among -those you feed upon," and with a hanging head and dejected air she -quitted the church-yard. - -In the meanwhile Dr. Paulding had remained gazing down into the vault, -while the stout young men who had come to assist the sexton withdrew -the broad hempen bands by which the coffin had been lowered, from -beneath it, arranged it properly upon the tressels in its orderly -place among the dead, and then mounted by a ladder into the body of -the church, again preparing to replace the stone over the mouth of the -vault. He then turned to the church door and looked out, and then -quietly approached a pew in the side aisle. - -"Philip, this is very wrong," he said; "your father never wished or -intended you should be here." - -"He did not forbid me," replied the young man. "Why should I only be -absent from my brother's funeral?" - -"Because you are sick. Because, by coming, you may have risked your -life," replied the old clergyman. - -"What is life to a duty?" replied the lad. "Have you not taught me, -sir, that there is no earthly thing--no interest of this life, no -pleasure, no happiness, no hope, that ought not to be sacrificed at -once to that which the heart says is right?" - -"True--true," replied the old clergyman, almost impatiently; "but in -following precept so severely, boy, you should use some -discrimination. You have a duty to a living father, which is of more -weight than a mere imaginary one to a dead brother. You could do no -good to the latter; as the Psalmist wisely said, 'You must go to him, -but he can never come back to you.' To your father, on the contrary, -you have high duties to perform; to console and cheer him in his -present affliction; to comfort and support his declining years. When a -real duty presents itself, Philip, to yourself, to your fellow men, to -your country, or to your God--I say again, as I have often said, do it -in spite of every possible affection. Let it cut through everything, -break through every tie, thrust aside every consideration. There, -indeed, I would fain see you act the old Roman, whom you are so fond -of studying, and be a Cato or a Brutus, if you will. But you must make -very sure that you do not make your fancy create unreal duties, and -make them of greater importance in your eyes than the true ones. But -now I must get you back as speedily as possible, for your mother, ere -long, will be up to see you, and your father, and they must not find -you absent on this errand." - -The lad made no reply, but readily walked back toward the court with -Dr. Paulding, though his steps were slow and feeble. He took the old -man's arm, too, and leaned heavily upon it; for, to say the truth, he -felt already the consequences of the foolish act he had committed; and -the first excitement past, lassitude and fever took possession once -more of every limb, and his feet would hardly bear him to the gates. - -The beautiful girl who had been the first to receive him at that -house, met the eyes both of the young man and the old one, the moment -they entered the gardens. She looked wild and anxious, and was -wandering about with her head uncovered; but as soon as she beheld the -youth, she ran toward him, exclaiming, "Oh, Philip, Philip, this is -very wrong and cruel of you. I have been looking for you everywhere. -You should not have done this. How could you let him, Dr. Paulding?" - -"I did not let him, my dear child," replied the old man, "he came of -his own will, and would not be let. But take him in with you; send him -to bed as speedily as may be; give him a large glass of the -fever-water he was taking, and say as little as possible of this rash -act to any one." - -The girl made the sick boy lean upon her rounded arm, led him away -into the house, and tended him like a sister. She kept the secret of -his rashness, too, from every one; and there were feelings sprang up -in his bosom toward her during the next few hours which were never to -be obliterated. She was so beautiful, so tender, so gentle, so full of -all womanly graces, that he fancied, with his strong imagination, that -no one perfection of body or mind could be wanting; and he continued -to think so for many a long year after. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -Enough of boyhood and its faults and follies. I sought but to show the -reader, as in a glass, the back of a pageant that has past. Oh, how I -sometimes laugh at the fools--the critics--God save the mark! who see -no more in the slight sketch I choose to give, than a mere daub of -paint across the canvas, when that one touch gives effect to the whole -picture. Let them stand back, and view it as a whole; and if they can -find aught in it to make them say "Well done," let them look at the -frame. That is enough for them; their wits are only fitted to deal -with "leather, and prunella." - -I have given you, reader--kind and judicious reader--a sketch of the -boy, that you may be enabled to judge rightly of the man. Now, take -the lad as I have moulded him--bake him well in the fiery furnace of -strong passion, remembering still that the form is of hard -iron--quench and harden him in the cold waters of opposition, and -disappointment, and anxiety--and bring him forth tempered, but too -highly tempered for the world he has to live in--not pliable--not -elastic; no watch-spring, but like a graver's tool, which must cut -into everything opposed to it, or break under the pressure. - -Let us start upon our new course some fifteen years after the period -at which our tale began, and view Philip Hastings as that which he had -now become. - -Dr. Paulding had passed from this working day world to another and a -better--where we hope the virtues of the heart may be weighed against -vices of the head--a mode of dealing rare here below. Sir John -Hastings and his wife had gone whither their eldest son had gone -before them; and Philip Hastings was no longer the boy. Manhood had -set its seal upon his brow only too early; but what a change had come -with manhood!--a change not in the substance, but in its mode. - -Oh, Time! thy province is not only to destroy! Thou worker-out of -human destinies--thou new-fashioner of all things earthly--thou -blender of races--thou changer of institutions--thou discoverer--thou -concealer--thou builder up--thou dark destroyer; thy waters as they -flow have sometimes a petrifying, sometimes a solvent power, hardening -the soft, melting the strong, accumulating the sand, undermining the -rock! What had been thine effect upon Philip Hastings? - -All the thoughts had grown manly as well as the body. The slight -youth had been developed into the hardy and powerful man; somewhat -inactive--at least so it seemed to common eyes--more thoughtful than -brilliant, steady in resolution, though calm in expression, giving way -no more to bursts of boyish feeling, somewhat stern, men said somewhat -hard, but yet extremely just, and resolute for justice. The poetry of -life--I should have said the poetry of young life--the brilliancy of -fancy and hope, seemed somewhat dimmed in him--mark, I say seemed, for -that which seems too often is not; and he might, perhaps, have learnt -to rule and conceal feelings which he could not altogether conquer or -resist. - -Still there were many traces of his old self visible: the same love of -study, the same choice of books and subjects of thought, the same -subdued yet strong enthusiasms. The very fact of mingling with the -world, which had taught him to repress those enthusiasms, seemed to -have concentrated and rendered them more intense. - -The course of his studies; the habits of his mind; his fondness for -the school of the stoics, it might have been supposed, would rather -have disgusted him with the society in which he now habitually -mingled, and made him look upon mankind--for it was a very corrupt -age--with contempt, if not with horror. - -Such, however, was not the case. He had less of the cynic in him than -his father--indeed he had nothing of the cynic in him at all. He loved -mankind in his own peculiar way. He was a philanthropist of a certain -sort; and would willingly have put a considerable portion of his -fellow-creatures to death, in order to serve, and elevate, and improve -the rest. - -His was a remarkable character--not altogether fitted for the times in -which he lived; but one which in its wild and rugged strength, -commanded much respect and admiration even then. Weak things clung to -it, as ivy to an oak or a strong wall: and its power over them was -increased by a certain sort of tenderness--a protecting pity, which -mingled strangely with his harder and ruder qualities. He seemed to be -sorry for everything that was weak, and to seek to console and comfort -it, under the curse of feebleness. It seldom offended him--he rather -loved it, it rarely came in his way; and his feeling toward it might -approach contempt but never rose to anger. - -He was capable too of intense and strong affections, though he could -not extend them to many objects. All that was vigorous and powerful in -him concentrated itself in separate points here and there; and general -things were viewed with much indifference. - -See him as he walks up and down there before the old house, which I -have elsewhere described. He has grown tall and powerful in frame: and -yet his gait is somewhat slovenly and negligent, although his step is -firm and strong. He is not much more than thirty-one years of age; but -he looks forty at the least; and his hair is even thickly sprinkled -with gray. His face is pale, with some strong marked lines and -indentations in it; yet, on the whole, it is handsome, and the slight -habitual frown, thoughtful rather than stern, together with the -massive jaw, and the slight drawing down of the corners of the mouth, -give it an expression of resolute firmness, that is only contradicted -by the frequent variation of the eye, which is sometimes full of deep -thought, sometimes of tenderness; and sometimes is flashing with a -wild and almost unearthly fire. - -But there is a lady hanging on his arm which supports her somewhat -feeble steps. She seems recovering from illness; the rose in her cheek -is faint and delicate; and an air of languor is in her whole face and -form. Yet she is very beautiful, and seems fully ten years younger -than her husband, although, in truth, she is of the same age--or -perhaps a little older. It is Rachael Marshal, now become Lady -Hastings. - -Their union did not take place without opposition; all Sir John -Hastings' prejudices against the Marshal family revived as soon as his -son's attachment to the daughter of the house became apparent. Like -most fathers, he saw too late; and then sought to prevent that which -had become inevitable. He sent his son to travel in foreign lands; he -even laid out a scheme for marrying him to another, younger, and as he -thought fairer. He contrived that the young man should fall into the -society of the lady he had selected, and he fancied that would be -quite sufficient; for he saw in her character, young as she was, -traits, much more harmonious, as he fancied, with those of his son, -than could be found in the softer, gentler, weaker Rachael Marshal. -There was energy, perseverance, resolution, keen and quick -perceptions--perhaps a little too much keenness. More, he did not stay -to inquire; but, as is usual in matters of the heart, Philip Hastings -loved best the converse of himself. The progress of the scheme was -interrupted by the illness of Sir John Hastings, which recalled his -son from Rome. Philip returned, found his father dead, and married -Rachael Marshal. - -They had had several children; but only one remained; that gay, light, -gossamer girl, like a gleam darting along the path from sunny rays -piercing through wind-borne clouds. On she ran with a step of light -and careless air, yet every now and then she paused suddenly, gazed -earnestly at a flower, plucked it, pored into its very heart with her -deep eyes, and, after seeming to labor under thought for a moment, -sprang forward again as light as ever. - -The eyes of the father followed her with a look of grave, thoughtful, -intense affection. The mother's eyes looked up to him, and then -glanced onward to the child. - -She was between nine and ten years old--not very handsome, for it is -not a handsome age. Yet there were indications of future beauty--fine -and sparkling eyes, rich, waving, silky hair, long eyelashes, a fine -complexion, a light and graceful figure, though deformed by the stiff -fashions of the day. - -There was a sparkle too in her look--that bright outpouring of the -heart upon the face which is one of the most powerful charms of youth -and innocence. Ah! how soon gone by! How soon checked by the thousand -loads which this heavy laboring world casts upon the buoyancy of -youthful spirits--the chilling conventionality--the knowledge, and the -fear of wrong--the first taste of sorrow--the anxieties, cares, -fears--even the hopes of mature life, are all weights to bear down the -pinions of young, lark-like joy. After twenty, does the heart ever -rise up from her green sod and fling at Heaven's gate as in childhood? -Never--eh, never! The dust of earth is upon the wing of the sky -songster, and will never let her mount to her ancient pitch. - -That child was a strange combination of her father and her mother. She -was destined to be their only one; and it seemed as if nature had -taken a pleasure in blending the characters of both in one. Not that -they were intimately mingled, but that they seemed like the twins of -Laconia, to rise and set by turns. - -In her morning walk: in her hours of sportive play; when no subject of -deep thought, no matter that affected the heart or the imagination was -presented to her, she was light and gay as a butterfly; the child--the -happy child was in every look, and word, and movement. But call her -for a moment from this bright land of pleasantness--present something -to her mind or to her fancy which rouses sympathies, or sets the -energetic thoughts at work, and she was grave, meditative, studious, -deep beyond her years. - -She was a subject of much contemplation, some anxiety, some wonder to -her father. The brightness of her perceptions, her eagerness in the -pursuit of knowledge, her vigorous resolution even as a child, when -convinced that she was right, showed him his own mind reflected in -hers. Even her tenderness, her strong affections, he could comprehend; -for the same were in his own heart, and though he believed them to be -weaknesses, he could well understand their existence in a child and in -a woman. - -But that which he did not understand--that which made him marvel--was -her lightness, her gayety, her wild vivacity--I might almost say, her -trifling, when not moved by deep feeling or chained down by thought. - -This was beyond him. Yet strange! the same characteristics did not -surprise nor shook him in her mother--never had surprised or shocked -him; indeed he had rather loved her for those qualities, so unlike his -own. Perhaps it was that he thought it strange, his child should, in -any mood, be so unlike himself; or perhaps it was the contrast between -the two sides of the same character that moved his wonder when he saw -it in his child, he might forget that her mother was her parent as -well as himself; and that she had an inheritance from each. - -In his thoughtful, considering, theoretical way, he determined -studiously to seek a remedy for what he considered the defect in his -child--to cultivate with all the zeal and perseverance of paternal -affection, supported by his own force of character, those qualities -which were most like his own--those, in short, which were the least -womanly. But nature would not be baffled. You may divert her to a -certain degree; but you cannot turn her aside from her course -altogether. - -He found that he could not--by any means which his heart would let him -employ--conquer what he called, the frivolity of the child. Frivolity! -Heaven save us! There were times when she showed no frivolity, but on -the contrary, a depth and intensity far, far beyond her years. Indeed, -the ordinary current of her mind was calm and thoughtful. It was but -when a breeze rippled it that it sparkled on the surface. Her father, -too, saw that this was so; that the wild gayety was but occasional. -But still it surprised and pained him--perhaps the more because it was -occasional. It seemed to hie eyes an anomaly in her nature. He would -have had her altogether like himself. He could not conceive any one -possessing so much of his own character, having room in heart and -brain for aught else. It was a subject of constant wonder to him; of -speculation, of anxious thought. - -He often asked himself if this was the only anomaly in his child--if -there were not other traits, yet undiscovered, as discrepant as this -light volatility with her general character: and he puzzled himself -sorely. - -Still he pursued her education upon his own principles; taught her -many things which women rarely learned in those days; imbued her mind -with thoughts and feelings of his own; and often thought, when a -season of peculiar gravity fell upon her, that he made progress in -rendering her character all that he could wish it. This impression -never lasted long, however; for sooner or later the bird-like spirit -within her found the cage door open, and fluttered forth upon some gay -excursion, leaving all his dreams vanished and his wishes -disappointed. - -Nevertheless he loved her with all the strong affection of which his -nature was capable; and still he persevered in the course which he -thought for her benefit. At times, indeed, he would make efforts to -unravel the mystery of her double nature, not perceiving that the only -cause of mystery was in himself: that what seemed strange in his -daughter depended more upon his own want of power to comprehend her -variety than upon anything extraordinary in her. He would endeavor to -go along with her in her sportive moods--to let his mind run free -beside hers in its gay ramble to find some motive for them which he -could understand; to reduce them to a system; to discover the rule by -which the problem was to be solved. But he made nothing of it, and -wearied conjecture in vain. - -Lady Hastings sometimes interposed a little; for in unimportant things -she had great influence with her husband. He let her have her own way -wherever he thought it not worth while to oppose her; and that was -very often. She perfectly comprehended the side of her daughter's -character which was all darkness to the father; and strange to say, -with greater penetration than his own, she comprehended the other side -likewise. She recognized easily the traits in her child which she knew -and admired in her husband, but wished them heartily away in her -daughter's case, thinking such strength of mind, joined with whatever -grace and sweetness, somewhat unfeminine. - -Though she was full of prejudices, and where her quickness of -perception failed her, altogether unteachable by reason, yet she was -naturally too virtuous and good to attempt even to thwart the objects -of the father's efforts in the education of his child. I have said -that she interfered at times, but it was only to remonstrate against -too close study, to obtain frequent and healthful relaxation, and to -add all those womanly accomplishments on which she set great value. In -this she was not opposed. Music, singing, dancing, and a knowledge of -modern languages, were added to other branches of education, and Lady -Hastings was so far satisfied. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -The Italian singing-master was a peculiar man, and well worthy of a -few words in description. He was tall and thin, but well built; and -his face had probably once been very handsome, in that Italian style, -which, by the exaggeration of age, grows so soon into ugliness. The -nose was now large and conspicuous, the eyes bright, black, and -twinkling, the mouth good in shape, but with an animal expression -about it, the ear very voluminous. - -He was somewhat more than fifty years of age, and his hair was -speckled with gray; but age was not apparent in wrinkles and furrows, -and in gait he was firm and upright. - -At first Sir Philip Hastings did not like him at all. He did not like -to have him there. It was against the grain he admitted him into the -house. He did it, partly because he thought it right to yield in some -degree to the wishes of his wife; partly from a grudging deference to -the customs of society. - -But the Signor was a shrewd and world-taught man, accustomed to -overcome prejudices, and to make his way against disadvantages; and he -soon established himself well in the opinion of both father and -mother. It was done by a peculiar process, which is well worth the -consideration of all those who seek _les moyens de parvenir_. - -In his general and ordinary intercourse with his fellow-men, he had a -happy middle tone,--a grave reticent manner, which never compromised -him to anything. A shrewd smile, without an elucidatory remark, served -to harmonize him with the gay and vivacious; a serious tranquillity, -unaccompanied by any public professions, was enough to make the sober -and the decent rank him amongst themselves. Perhaps that class of -men--whether pure at heart or not--have always overestimated decency -of exterior. - -All this was in public however. In private, in a _tête-à-tête_, Signor -Guardini was a very different man. Nay more, in each and every -_tête-à-tête_ he was a different man from what he appeared in the other. -Yet, with a marvelous art, he contrived to make both sides of his -apparent character harmonize with his public and open appearance. Or -rather perhaps I should say that his public demeanor was a middle tint -which served to harmonize the opposite extremes of coloring displayed -by his character. Nothing could exemplify this more strongly than the -different impressions he produced on Sir Philip and Lady Hastings. The -lady was soon won to his side. She was predisposed to favor him; and a -few light gay sallies, a great deal of conventional talk about the -fashionable life of London, and a cheerful bantering tone of -persiflage, completely charmed her. Sir Philip was more difficult to -win. Nevertheless, in a few short sentences, hardly longer than those -which Sterne's mendicant whispered in the ear of the passengers, he -succeeded in disarming many prejudices. With him, the Signor was a -stoic; he had some tincture of letters, though a singer, and had read -sufficient of the history of his own land, to have caught all the -salient points of the glorious past. - -Perhaps he might even feel a certain interest in the antecedents of -his decrepit land--not to influence his conduct, or to plant ambitious -or nourish pure and high hopes for its regeneration--but to waken a -sort of touchwood enthusiasm, which glowed brightly when fanned by the -stronger powers of others. Yet before Sir Philip had had time to -communicate to him one spark of his own ardor, he had as I have said -made great progress in his esteem. In five minutes' conversation he -had established for himself the character of one of a higher and -nobler character whose lot had fallen in evil days. - -"In other years," thought the English gentleman, "this might have been -a great man--the defender unto death of his country's rights--the -advocate of all that is ennobling, stern, and grand." - -What was the secret of all this? Simply that he, a man almost without -character, had keen and well-nigh intuitive perceptions of the -characters of others; and that without difficulty his pliable nature -and easy principles would accommodate themselves to all. - -He made great progress then in the regard of Sir Philip, although -their conversations seldom lasted above five minutes. He made greater -progress still with the mother. But with the daughter he made -none--worse than none. - -What was the cause, it may be asked. What did he do or say--how did he -demean himself so as to produce in her bosom a feeling of horror and -disgust toward him that nothing could remove? - -I cannot tell. He was a man of strong passions and no principles: that -his after--perhaps his previous--life would evince. There is a -touchstone for pure gold in the heart of an innocent and high-minded -woman that detects all baser metals: they are discovered in a moment: -they cannot stand the test. - -Now, whether his heart-cankering corruption, his want of faith, -honesty, and truth, made themselves felt, and were pointed out by the -index of that fine barometer, without any overt act at all--or whether -he gave actual cause of offense, I do not know--none has ever known. - -Suddenly, however, the gay, the apparently somewhat wayward girl, now -between fifteen and sixteen, assumed a new character in her father's -and mother's eyes. With a strange frank abruptness she told them she -would take no more singing lessons of the Italian; but she added no -explanation. - -Lady Hastings was angry, and expostulated warmly; but the girl was -firm and resolute. She heard her mother's argument, and answered in -soft and humble tones that she would not,--could not learn to sing any -longer--that she was very sorry to grieve or to offend her mother; but -she had learned long enough, and would learn no more. - -More angry than before, with the air of indignant pride in which -weakness so often takes refuge, the mother quitted the room; and the -father then, in a calmer spirit, inquired the cause of her resolution. - -She blushed like the early morning sky; but there was a sort of -bewildered look upon her face as she replied, "I know no cause--I can -give no reason, my dear father; but the man is hateful to me. I will -never see him again." - -Her father sought for farther explanation, but he could obtain none. -Guardini had not said anything nor done anything, she admitted, to -give her offense; but yet she firmly refused to be his pupil any -longer. - -There are instincts in fine and delicate minds, which, by signs and -indications intangible to coarser natures discover in others thoughts -and feelings, wishes and designs, discordant--repugnant to themselves. -They are instincts, I say, not amenable to reason, escaping analysis, -incapable of explanation--the warning voice of God in the heart, -bidding them beware of evil. - -Sir Philip Hastings was not a man to allow aught for such impulses--to -conceive or understand them in the least. He had been accustomed to -delude himself with reasons, some just, others very much the reverse, -but he had never done a deed or entertained a thought for which he -could not give some reason of convincing power to his own mind. - -He did not understand his daughter's conduct at all; but he would not -press her any farther. She was in some degree a mysterious being to -him. Indeed, as I have before shown, she had always been a mystery; -for he had no key to her character in his own. It was written in the -unknown language. - -Yet, did he love or cherish her the less? Oh no! Perhaps a deeper -interest gathered round his heart for her, the chief object of his -affections. More strongly than ever he determined to cultivate and -form her mind on his own model, in consequence of what he called a -strange caprice, although he could not but sometimes hope and fancy -that her resolute rejection of any farther lessons from Signor -Guardini arose from her distaste to what he himself considered one of -the frivolous pursuits of fashion. - -Yet she showed no distaste for singing: for somehow every day she -would practice eagerly, till her sweet voice, under a delicate taste, -acquired a flexibility and power which charmed and captivated her -father, notwithstanding his would-be cynicism. He was naturally fond -of music; his nature was a vehement one, though curbed by such strong -restraints; and all vehement natures are much moved by music. He -would sit calmly, with his eyes fixed upon a book, but listening all -the time to that sweet voice, with feelings working in him--emotions, -thrilling, deep, intense, which he would have felt ashamed to expose -to any human eye. - -All this however made her conduct toward Guardini the more mysterious; -and her father often gazed upon her beautiful face with a look of -doubting inquiry, as one may look on the surface of a bright lake, and -ask, What is below? - -That face was now indeed becoming very beautiful. Every feature had -been refined and softened by time. There was soul in the eyes, and a -gleam of heaven upon the smile, besides the mere beauties of line and -coloring. The form too had nearly reached perfection. It was full of -symmetry and grace, and budding charms; and while the mother marked -all these attractions, and thought how powerful they would prove in -the world, the father felt their influence in a different manner: with -a sort of abstract admiration of her loveliness, which went, no -farther than a proud acknowledgment to his own heart that she was -beautiful indeed. To him her beauty was as a gem, a picture, a -beautiful possession, which he had no thought of ever parting -with--something on which his eyes would rest well pleased until they -closed forever. How blessed he might have been in the possession of -such a child could he have comprehended her--could he have divested -his mind of the idea that there was something strange and inharmonious -in her character! Could he have made his heart a woman's heart for but -one hour, all mystery would have been dispelled; but it was -impossible, and it remained. - -No tangible effect did it produce at the time; but preconceptions of -another's character are very dangerous things. Everything is seen -through their medium, everything is colored and often distorted. That -which produced no fruit at the time, had very important results at an -after period. - -But I must turn now to other scenes and more stirring events, having I -trust made the reader well enough acquainted with father, mother, and -daughter, at least sufficiently for all the purposes of this tale. It -is upon the characters of two of them that all the interest if there -be any depends. Let them be marked then and remembered, if the reader -would derive pleasure from what follows. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -Reader, can you go back for twenty years? You do it every day. You -say, "Twenty years ago I was a boy--twenty years ago I was a -youth--twenty years ago I played at peg-top and at marbles--twenty -years ago I wooed--was loved--I sinned--I suffered!" - -What is there in twenty years that should keep us from going back -over them? You go on so fast, so smoothly, so easily on the forward -course--why not in retrogression? But let me tell you: it makes a very -great difference whether Hope or Memory drives the coach. - -But let us see what we can do. Twenty years before the period at which -the last chapter broke off, Philip Hastings, now a father of a girl of -fifteen, was a lad standing by the side of his brother's grave. Twenty -years ago Sir John Hastings was the living lord of these fine lands -and broad estates. Twenty years ago he passed, from the mouth of the -vault in which he had laid the clay of the first-born, into the open -splendor of the day, and felt sorrow's desolation in the sunshine. -Twenty years age, he had been confronted on the church-yard path by a -tall old woman, and challenged with words high and stern, to do her -right in regard to a paltry rood or two of land. Twenty years ago he -had given her a harsh, cold answer, and treated her menaces with -impatient scorn. - -Do you remember her, reader? Well, if you do, that brings us to the -point I sought to reach in the dull flat expanse of the far past; and -we can stand and look around us for awhile. - -That old woman was not one easily to forget or lightly to yield her -resentments. There was something perdurable in them as well as in her -gaunt, sinewy frame. As she stood there menacing him, she wanted but -three years of seventy. She had battled too with many a storm--wind -and weather, suffering and persecution, sorrow and privation, had beat -upon her hard--very hard. They had but served to stiffen and wither -and harden, however. - -Her corporeal frame, shattered as it seemed, was destined to outlive -many of the young and fair spirit-tabernacles around it--to pass over, -by long years, the ordinary allotted space of human life; and it -seemed as if even misfortune had with her but a preserving power. It -is not wonderful, however, that, while it worked thus upon her body, -it should likewise have stiffened and withered and hardened her heart. - -I am not sure that conscience itself went untouched in this searing -process. It is not clear at all that even her claim upon Sir John -Hastings was not an unjust one; but just or unjust his repulse sunk -deep and festered. - -Let us trace her from the church-yard after she met him. She took her -path away from the perk and the hamlet, between two cottages, the -ragged boys at the doors of which called her "Old Witch," and spoke -about a broomstick. - -She heeded them little: there were deeper offences rankling at her -heart. - -She walked on, across a corn-field and a meadow, and then she came -upon some woodlands, through which a little sandy path wound its way, -round stumps of old trees long cut down, amidst young bushes and -saplings just springing up, and catching the sunshine here and there -through the bright-tinted foliage overhead. Up the hill it went, over -the slope on which the copse was scattered, and then burst forth again -on the opposite side of wood and rise, where the ground fell gently -the other way, looking down upon the richly-dressed grounds of Colonel -Marshall, at the distance of some three miles. - -Not more than a hundred yards distant was a poor man's cottage, with -an old gray thatch which wanted some repairing, and was plentifully -covered with herbs, sending the threads of their roots into the straw. -A. little badly-cultivated garden, fenced off from the hill-side by a -loose stone wall, surrounded the horse, and a gate without hinges gave -entrance to this inclosed space. - -The old woman went in and approached the cottage door. When near it -she stopped and listened, lifting one of the flapping ears of her -cotton cap to aid the dull sense of hearing. There were no voices -within; but there was a low sobbing sound issued forth as if some one -were in bitter distress. - -"I should not wonder if she were alone," said the old woman; "the -ruffian father is always out; the drudging mother goes about this time -to the town. They will neither stay at home, I wot, to grieve for him -they let too often into that door, nor to comfort her he has left -desolate. But it matters little whether they be in or out. It were -better to talk to her first. I will give her better than -comfort--revenge, if I judge right. They must play their part -afterwards." - -Thus communing with herself, she laid her hand upon the latch and -opened the door. In an attitude of unspeakable grief sat immediately -before her a young and exceedingly beautiful girl, of hardly seventeen -years of age. - -The wheel stood still by her side; the spindle had fallen from her -hands; her head was bowed down as with sorrow she could not bear up -against; and her eyes were dropping tears like rain. - -The moment she heard the door open she started, and looked up with -fear upon her face, and strove to dash the tears from her eyes; but -the old women bespoke her softly, saying, "Good even, my dear; is your -mother in the place?" - -"No," replied the girl; "she has gone to sell the lint, and father is -out too. It is very lonely, and I get sad here." - -"I do not wonder at it, poor child," said the old woman; "you have had -a heavy loss, my dear, and may well cry. You can't help what is past, -you know; but we can do a good deal for what is to come, if we but -take care and make up our minds in time." - -Many and strange were the changes of expression which came upon the -poor girl's face as she heard these few simple words. At first her -cheek glowed hot, as with the burning blush of shame; then she turned -pale and trembled, gazing inquiringly in her visitor's face, as if she -would have asked, "Am I detected?" and then she cast down her eyes -again, still pale as ashes, and the tears rolled forth once more and -fell upon her lap. - -The old woman sat down beside her, and talked to her tenderly; but, -alas! very cunningly too. She assumed far greater knowledge than she -possessed. She persuaded the poor girl that there was nothing to -conceal from her; and what neither father nor mother knew, was told -that day to one comparatively a stranger. Still the old woman spoke -tenderly--ay, very tenderly; excused her fault--made light of her -fears--gave her hope--gave her strength. But all the time she -concealed her full purpose. That was to be revealed by degrees. -Whatever had been the girl's errors, she was too innocent to be made a -party to a scheme of fraud and wrong and vengeance at once. All that -the woman communicated was blessed comfort to a bruised and bleeding -heart; and the poor girl leaned her head upon her old companion's -shoulder, and, amidst bitter tears and sobs and sighs, poured out -every secret of her heart. - -But what is that she says, which makes the old woman start with a look -of triumph? - -"Letters!" she exclaimed; "two letters: let me see them, child--let me -see them! Perhaps they may be more valuable than you think." - -The girl took them from her bosom, where she kept them as all that she -possessed of one gone that day into the tomb. - -The old woman read them with slow eyes, but eager attention; and then -gave them back, saying, "That one you had better destroy as soon as -possible--it tells too much. But this first one keep, as you value -your own welfare--as you value your child's fortune, station, and -happiness. You can do much with this. Why, here are words that may -make your father a proud man. Hark! I hear footsteps coming. Put them -up--we must go to work cautiously, and break the matter to your -parents by degrees." - -It was the mother of the girl who entered; and she seemed faint and -tired. Well had the old woman called her a drudge, for such she was--a -poor patient household drudge, laboring for a hard, heartless, idle, -and cunning husband, and but too tenderly fond of the poor girl whose -beauty had been a snare to her. - -She seemed somewhat surprised to see the old woman there; for they -were of different creeds, and those creeds made wide separation in the -days I speak of. Perhaps she was surprised and grieved to see the -traces of tears and agitation on her daughter's face; but of that she -took no notice; for there were doubts and fears at her heart which she -dreaded to confirm. The girl was more cheerful, however, than she had -been for the last week--not gay, not even calm; but yet there was a -look of some relief. - -Often even after her mother's entrance, the tears would gather thick -in her eyes when she thought of the dead; but it was evident that hope -had risen up: that the future was not all darkness and terror. This -was a comfort to her; and she spoke and looked cheerfully. She had -sold all the thread of her and her daughter's spinning, and she had -sold it well. Part she hid in a corner to keep a pittance for bread -from her husband's eyes; part she reserved to give up to him for the -purchase of drink: but while she made all these little arrangements, -she looked somewhat anxiously at the old woman, from time to time, as -if she fain would have asked, "What brought you here?" - -The crone was cautious, however, and knew well with whom she had to -deal. She talked in solemn and oracular tones, as if she had possessed -all the secrets of fate, but she told nothing, and when she went away -she said in a low voice but authoritative manner, "Be kind to your -girl--be very kind; for she will bring good luck and fortune to you -all." The next day she laid wait for the husband, found and forced him -to stop and hear her. At first he was impatient, rude, and brutal; -swore, cursed, and called her many and evil names. But soon he -listened eagerly enough: looks of intelligence and eager design passed -between the two, and ere they parted they perfectly understood each -other. - -The man was then, on more than one day, seen going down to the hall. -At first he was refused admission to Sir John Hastings; for his -character was known. The next day, however, he brought a letter, -written under his dictation by his daughter, who had been taught at a -charitable school of old foundation hard by; and this time he was -admitted. His conversation with the Lord of the Manor was long; but no -one knew its import. He came again and again, and was still admitted. - -A change came over the cottage and its denizens. The fences were put -in order, the walls were repaired, the thatch renewed, another room or -two was added; plenty reigned within; mother and daughter appeared in -somewhat finer apparel; and money was not wanting. - -At the end of some months there was the cry of a young child in the -house. The neighbors were scandalized, and gossips spoke censoriously -even in the father's ears; but he stopped them fiercely, with proud -and mysterious words; boasted aloud of what they had thought his -daughter's shame; and claimed a higher place for her than was -willingly yielded to her companions. Strange rumors got afloat, but -ere a twelvemonth had passed, the father had drank himself to death. -His widow and her daughter and her grandson moved to a better house, -and lived at ease on money none knew the source of, while the cottage, -now neat and in good repair, became the dwelling of the old woman, who -had been driven with scorn from Sir John's presence. Was she -satisfied--had she sated herself? Not yet. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -There was a lady, a very beautiful lady indeed, came to a lonely -house, which seemed to have been tenanted for several years by none -but servants, about three years after the death of Sir John Hastings. -That house stood some miles to the north of the seat of that -gentleman, which now had passed to his son; and it was a fine-looking -place, with a massive sort of solemn brick-and-mortar grandeur -about it, which impressed the mind with a sense of the wealth and -long-standing of its owners. - -The plural has slipped from my pen, and perhaps it is right; for the -house looked as if it had had many owners, and all of them had been -rich. - -Now, there was but one owner,--the lady who descended from that -lumbering, heavy coach, with the two great leathern wings on each side -of the door. She was dressed in widow's weeds, and she had every right -to wear them. Though two-and-twenty only, she stood there orphan, -heiress, and widow. She had known many changes of condition, but not -of fate, and they did not seem to have affected her much. Of high-born -and proud parentage, she had been an only child for many years before -her parents' death. She had been spoiled, to use a common, but not -always appropriate phrase; for there are some people who cannot be -spoiled, either because the ethereal essence within them is -incorruptible, or because there is no ethereal essence to spoil at -all. However, she had been spoiled very successfully by fate, fortune, -and kind friends. She had never been contradicted in her life; she had -never been disappointed--but once. She had travelled, seen strange -countries--which was rare in those days with women--had enjoyed many -things. She had married a handsome, foolish man, whom she chose--few -knew rightly why. She had lost both her parents not long after; got -tired of her husband, and lost him too, just when the loss could leave -little behind but a decent regret, which she cultivated as a slight -stimulant to keep her mind from stagnating. And now, without husband, -child, or parents, she returned to the house of her childhood, which -she had not seen for five long years. - -Is that all her history? No, not exactly all. There is one little -incident which may as well be referred to here. Her parents had -entered into an arrangement for her marriage with a very different man -from him whom she afterwards chose,--Sir Philip Hastings; and -foolishly they had told her of what had been done, before the -young man's own assent had been given. She did not see much of -him--certainly not enough to fall in love with him. She even thought -him a strange, moody youth; but yet there was something in his -moodiness and eccentricity which excited her fancy. The reader knows -that he chose for himself; and the lady also married immediately -after. - -Thus had passed for her a part of life's pageant; and now she came to -her own native dwelling, to let the rest march by as it might. At -first, as she slowly descended from the carriage, her large, dark, -brilliant eyes were fixed upon the ground. She had looked long at the -house as she was driving towards it, and it seemed to have cast her -into a thoughtful mood. It is hardly possible to enter a house where -we have spent many early years, without finding memory suddenly seize -upon the heart and possess it totally. What a grave it is! What a long -line of buried ancestors may not _the present_ always contemplate -there. - -Nor are there many received into the tomb worth so much respect as one -dead hour. All else shall live again: lost hours have no resurrection. - -There were old servants waiting around, to welcome her, new ones -attending upon her orders; but for a moment or two she noticed no one, -till at length the old housekeeper, who knew her from a babe, spoke -out, saying, "Ah, madam I do not wonder to see you a little sad on -first coming to the old place again, after all that has happened." - -"Ah, indeed, Arnold," replied the lady, "many sad things have happened -since we parted. But how are you, Goody? You look blooming:" and -walking into the house, she heard the reply in the hall. - -From the hall, the old housekeeper led her lady through the house, and -mightily did she chatter and gossip by the way. The lady listened -nearly in silence; for Mrs. Arnold was generous in conversation, and -spared her companion all expense of words. At length, however, -something she said seemed to rouse her mistress, and she exclaimed -with a somewhat bitter laugh, "And so the good people declared I was -going to be married to Sir Philip Hastings?" - -"_Mr_. Hastings he was then, madam," answered the housekeeper "to be -sure they did. All the country around talked of it, and the tenants -listened at church to hear the banns proclaimed." - -The lady turned very red, and the old woman went on to say, "Old Sir -John seemed quite sure of it; but he reckoned without his host, I -fancy." - -"He did indeed," said the lady with an uncheerful smile, and there the -subject dropped for the time. Not long after, however, the lady -herself brought the conversation back to nearly the same point, asked -after Sir Philip's health and manner of living, and how he was liked -in the neighborhood, adding, "He seemed a strange being at the time I -saw him, which was only once or twice--not likely to make a very -pleasant husband, I thought." - -"Oh dear, yes, madam, he does," answered Mrs. Arnold, "many a worse, I -can assure you. He is very fond of his lady indeed, and gives up more -to her than one would think. He is a little stern, they say, but very -just and upright; and no libertine fellow, like his brother who was -drowned--which I am sure was a providence, for if he was so bad when -he was young, what would he have been when he was old?" - -"Better, perhaps," replied her mistress, with a quiet smile; "but was -he so very wicked? I never heard any evil of him." - -"Oh dear me, madam! do not you know?" exclaimed the old woman; and -then came the whole story of the cotter's daughter on the hill, and -how she and her father and old Mother Danby--whom people believed to -be a witch--had persuaded or threatened Sir John Hastings into making -rich people of them. - -"Persuaded or threatened Sir John Hastings!" said the lady in a tone -of doubt. "I knew him better than either of his sons; and never did I -see a man so little likely to yield to persuasion or to bow to menace;" -and she fell into a deep fit of musing, which lasted long, while the -old housekeeper rambled on from subject to subject, unlistened to, but -very well content. - -Let us dwell a little on the lady, and on her character. There is -always something to interest, something to instruct, in the character -of a woman. It is like many a problem in Euclid, which seems at first -sight as plain and simple as the broad sunshine; but when we come to -study it, we find intricacies beneath which puzzle us mightily to -resolve. It is a fine, curious, delicate, complicated piece of -anatomy, a woman's heart. I have dissected many, and I know the fact. -Take and lay that fibre apart--take care, for heaven's sake! that you -do not tear the one next to it; and be sure you do not dissever the -fragments which bind those most opposite parts together! See, here -lies a muscle of keen sensibility; and there--what is that? A -cartilage, hard as a nether millstone. Look at those light, irritable -nerves, quivering at the slightest touch; and then see those tendons, -firm, fixed, and powerful as the resolution of a martyr. Oh, that -wonderful piece of organization who can describe it accurately? - -I must not pretend to do so; but I will give a slight sketch of the -being before me. - -There she stands, somewhat above the usual height, but beautifully -formed, with every line rounded and flowing gracefully into the -others. There is calmness and dignity in the whole air, and in every -movement; but yet there is something very firm, very resolute, very -considerate, in the fall of that small foot upon the carpet. She -cannot intend her foot to stay there for ever; and yet, when she sets -it down, one would be inclined to think she did. Her face is very -beautiful--every feature finely cut--the eyes almost dazzling in their -dark brightness. How chaste, how lovely the fine lines of that mouth. -Yet do you see what a habit she has of keeping the pearly teeth close -shut--one pure row pressed hard against the other. The slight -sarcastic quiver of the upper lip does not escape you; and the -expanded nostril and flash of the eye, contradicted by the fixed -motionless mouth. - -Such is her outward appearance, such is she too within--though the -complexion there is somewhat darker. Much that, had it been cultivated -and improved, would have blossomed into womanly virtue; a capability -of love, strong, fiery, vehement, changeless--not much tenderness--not -much pity,--no remorse--are there. Pride, of a peculiar character, but -strong, ungovernable, unforgiving, and a power of hate and thirst of -vengeance, which only pride can give, are there likewise. Super-add a -shrewdness--a policy--a cunning--nay, something greater--something -approaching the sublime--a divination, where passion is to be -gratified, that seldom leads astray from the object. - -Yes, such is the interior of that fair temple, and yet, how calm, -sweet, and promising it stands. - -I have omitted much perhaps; for the human heart is like the caldron -of the witches in Macbeth, and one might go on throwing in ingredients -till the audience became tired of the song. However, what I have said -will be enough for the reader's information; and if we come upon any -unexplained phenomena, I must endeavor to elucidate them hereafter. - -Let us suppose the lady's interview with her housekeeper at an -end--all her domestic arrangements made--the house restored to its air -of habitation--visits received and paid. Amongst the earliest visitors -were Sir Philip and Lady Hastings. He came frankly, and in one of his -most happy moods, perfectly ignorant that she had ever been made aware -of there having been a marriage proposed between himself and her and -she received him and his fair wife with every appearance of -cordiality. But as soon as these visits and all the ceremonies were -over, the lady began to drive much about the country, and to collect -every tale and rumor she could meet with of all the neighboring -families. Her closest attention, however, centred upon those affecting -the Hastings' race; and she found the whole strange story of the -cottage girl confirmed, with many another particular added. She smiled -when she heard this--smiled blandly--it seemed to give her pleasure. -She would fain have called upon the girl and her mother too. She -longed to do so, and to draw forth with skill, of which she possessed -no small share, the key secret of the whole. But her station, her -reputation, prevented her from taking a step which she knew might be -noised abroad and create strange comments. - -She resolved upon another move, however, which she thought would do as -well. There would be no objection to her visiting her poorer -neighbors, to comfort, to relieve; and she went to the huts of many. -At length one early morning, on a clear autumn day, the carriage was -left below on the high road, and the lady climbed the hill alone -towards the cottage, where the girl and her parents formerly lived. -She found the old woman, who was now its occupant, busily cooking her -morning meal; and sitting down, she entered into conversation with -her. At first she could obtain but little information; the old woman -was in a sullen mood, and would not speak of any thing she did not -like. Money was of no avail to unlock her eloquence. - -She had never asked or taken charity, the old woman said, and now she -did not need it. - -The lady pondered for a few minutes, considering the character of her -ancient hostess, trying it by her experience and intuition; and thus -she boldly asked her for the whole history of young John Hastings and -the cottage girl. - -"Tell me all," she said, "for I wish to know it--I have an interest in -it." - -"Ay?" said the old woman, gazing at her, "then you are the pretty lady -Sir Philip was to have married, but would not have her?" - -"The same," replied the visitor, and for an instant a bright red spot -arose upon her cheek--a pang like a knife passed through her heart. - -That was the price she paid for the gratification of her curiosity. -But it probably was gratified, for she stayed nearly an hour and a -half in the cottage--so long, indeed, that her servants, who were with -the carriage, became alarmed, and one of the footmen walked up the -hill. He met his lady coming down. - -"Poor thing," she said, as if speaking of the old woman she had just -left, "her senses wander a little; but she is poor, and has been much -persecuted. I must do what I can for her. Whenever she comes to the -house, see she is admitted." - -The old woman did come often, and always had a conference with the -lady of the mansion; but here let us leave them for the present. They -may appear upon the stage again. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -"MY DEAR SIR PHILIP: - -"I have not seen you or dear Lady Hastings for many months; nor your -sweet Emily either, except at a distance, when one day she passed my -carriage on horseback, sweeping along the hill-side like a gleam of -light. My life is a sad, solitary one here; and I wish my friends -would take more compassion upon me and let me see human faces -oftener--especial faces that I love. - -"But I know that you are very inexorable in these respects, and, -sufficient to yourself, cannot readily conceive how a lone woman can -pine for the society of other more loving friends than books or -nature. I must, therefore, attack the only accessible point I know -about you, meaning your compassion, which you never refuse to those -who really require it. Now I do require it greatly; for I am at this -present engaged in business of a very painful and intricate nature, -which I cannot clearly understand, and in which I have no one to -advise me but a country attorney, whose integrity as well as ability I -much doubt. To whom can I apply so well as to you, when I need the -counsel and assistance of a friend, equally kind, disinterested, and -clear-headed? I venture to do so, then, in full confidence, and ask -you to ride over as soon as you can, to give me your advice, or rather -to decide for me, in a matter where a considerable amount of property -is at stake, and where decision is required immediately. I trust when -you do come you will stay all night, as the business is, I fear, of so -complicated a nature, that it may occupy more than one day of your -valuable time in the affairs of - - Your faithful and obliged servant, - CAROLINE HAZLETON." - -"Is Mrs. Hazleton's messenger waiting?" asked Sir Philip Hastings, -after having read the letter and mused for a moment. - -The servant answered in the affirmative; and his master rejoined, -"Tell him I will not write an answer, as I have some business to -attend to; but I beg he will tell his mistress that I will be with her -in three hours." - -Lady Hastings uttered a low-toned exclamation of surprise. She did not -venture to ask any question--indeed she rarely questioned her husband -on any subject; but when anything excited her wonder, or, as was more -frequently the case, her curiosity, she was accustomed to seek for -satisfaction in a somewhat indirect way, by raising her beautiful -eyebrows with a doubtful sort of smile, or, as in the present -instance, by exclaiming, "Good gracious! Dear me!" or giving voice to -some other little vocative, with a note of interrogation strongly -marked after it. - -In this case there was more than one feeling at the bottom of her -exclamation. She was surprised; she was curious; and she was, -moreover, in the least degree in the world, jealous. She had her share -of weaknesses, as I have said; and one of them was of a kind less -uncommon than may be supposed. Of her husband's conduct she had no -fear--not the slightest suspicion. Indeed, to have entertained any -would have been impossible--but she could not bear to see him liked, -admired, esteemed, by any woman--mark, me, I say by _any woman_; for -no one could feel more triumphant joy than she did when she saw him -duly appreciated by men. She was a great monopolizer: she did not wish -one thought of his to be won away from her by another woman; and a -sort of irritable feeling came upon her even when she saw him seated -by any young and pretty girl, and paying her the common attentions of -society. She was too well bred to display such sensations except by -those slight indications, or by a certain petulance of manner, which -he was not close observer enough of other people's conduct to remark. - -Not to dwell too long on such things, Sir Philip Hastings, though -perfectly unconscious of what was going on in her heart, rarely kept -her long in suspense, when he saw any signs of curiosity. He perhaps -might think it a point of Roman virtue to spoil his wife, although she -had very little of the Portia in her character. On the present -occasion, he quietly handed over to her the letter of Mrs. Hazleton; -and then summoned a servant and gave orders for various preparations. - -"Had not I and Emily better go with you?" asked Lady Hastings, -pointing out to him the passage in the letter which spoke of the long -absence of all the family. - -"Not when I am going on business," replied her husband gravely, and -quitted the room. - -An hour after, Philip Hastings was on horseback with a servant -carrying a valise behind him, and riding slowly through the park. The -day was far advanced, and the distance was likely to occupy about an -hour and a half in travelling; but the gentleman had fallen into a -reverie, and rode very slowly. They passed the park gates; they took -their way down the lane by the church and near the parsonage. Here Sir -Philip pulled in his horse suddenly, and ordered the man to ride on -and announce that he would be at Mrs. Hazleton's soon after. He then -fastened his horse to a large hook, put up for the express purpose on -most country houses of that day in England, and walked up to the door. -It was ajar, and without ceremony he walked in, as he was often -accustomed to do, and entered the little study of the rector. - -The clergyman himself was not there; but there were two persons in the -room, one a young and somewhat dashing-looking man, one or two and -twenty years of age, exceedingly handsome both in face and figure; -the other personage past the middle age, thin, pale, eager and -keen-looking, in whom Sir Philip instantly recognized a well known, -but not very well reputed attorney, of a country town about twenty -miles distant. They had one of the large parish books before them, and -were both bending over it with great appearance of earnestness. - -The step of Sir Philip Hastings roused them, and turning round, the -attorney bowed law, saying, "I give you good day, Sir Philip. I hope I -have the honor of seeing you well." - -"Quite so," was the brief reply, and it was followed by an inquiry for -the pastor, who it seemed had gone into another room for some papers -which were required. - -In the mean time the younger of the two previous occupants of the room -had been gazing at Sir Philip Hastings with a rude, familiar stare, -which the object of it did not remark; and in another moment the -clergyman himself appeared, carrying a bundle of old letters in his -hand. - -He was a heavy, somewhat timid man, the reverse of his predecessor in -all things, but a very good sort of person upon the whole. On seeing -the baronet there, however, something seemed strangely to affect -him--a sort of confused surprise, which, after various stammering -efforts, burst forth as soon as the usual salutation was over, in the -words, "Pray, Sir Philip, did you come by appointment?" - -Sir Philip Hastings, as the reader already knows, was a somewhat -unobservant man of what was passing around him in the world. He had -his own deep, stern trains of thought, which he pursued with a -passionate earnestness almost amounting to monomania. The actions, -words, and even looks of those few in whom he took an interest, he -could sometimes watch and comment on in his own mind with intense -study. True, he watched without understanding, and commented wrongly; -for he had too little experience of the motives of others from outward -observation, and found too little sympathy with the general motives of -the world, in his own heart, to judge even those he loved rightly. But -the conduct, the looks, the words of ordinary men, he hardly took the -trouble of remarking; and the good parson's surprise and hesitation, -passed like breath upon a mirror, seen perhaps, but retaining no hold -upon his mind for a moment. Neither did the abrupt question surprise -him; nor the quick, angry look which it called up on the face of the -attorney attract his notice; but he replied quietly to Mr. Dixwell, "I -do not remember having made any appointment with you." - -The matter was all well so far; and would have continued well; but the -attorney, a meddling fellow, had nearly spoiled all, by calling the -attention of Philip Hastings more strongly to the strangeness of the -clergyman's question. - -"Perhaps," said the man of law, interrupting the baronet in the midst, -"Perhaps Mr. Dixwell thought, Sir Philip, that you came here to speak -with me on the business of the Honorable Mrs. Hazleton. She told me -she would consult you, and I can explain the whole matter to you." - -But the clergyman instantly declared that he meant nothing of the -kind; and at the same moment Sir Philip Hastings said, "I beg you will -not, sir. Mrs. Hazleton will explain what she thinks proper to me, -herself. I desire no previous information, as I am now on my way to -her. Why my good friend here should suppose I came by appointment, I -cannot tell. However, I did not; and it does not matter. I only wish, -Mr. Dixwell, to say, that I hear the old woman Danley is ill and -dying. She is a papist, and the foolish people about fancy she is a -witch. Little help or comfort will she obtain from them, even if they -do not injure or insult her. As I shall be absent all night, and -perhaps all to-morrow, I will call at her cottage as I ride over to -Mrs. Hazleton's and inquire into her wants. I will put down on paper, -and leave there, what I wish my people to do for her; but there is one -thing which I must request you to do, namely, to take every means, by -exhortation and remonstrance, to prevent the ignorant peasantry from -troubling this poor creature's death-bed. Her sad errors in matters of -faith should only at such a moment make us feel the greater compassion -for her." - -Mr. Dixwell thought differently, for though a good man, he was a -fanatic. He did not indeed venture to think of disobeying the -injunction of the great man of the parish--the man who now held both -the Hastings and the Marshal property; but he would fain have detained -Sir Philip to explain and make clear to him the position--as clear as -a demonstration in Euclid to his own mind--that all Roman Catholics -ought to be, at the very least, banished from the country for ever. - -But Sir Philip Hastings was not inclined to listen, and although the -good man began the argument in a solemn tone, his visitor, falling -into a fit of thought, walked slowly out of the room, along the -passage, through the door, and mounted his horse, without effectually -hearing one word, though they were many which Mr. Dixwell showered -upon him as he followed. - -At his return to his little study, the parson found the young man and -the lawyer, no longer looking at the book, but conversing together -very eagerly, with excited countenances and quick gestures. The moment -he entered, however, they stopped, the young man ending with an oath, -for which the clergyman reproved him on the spot. - -"That is very well, Mr. Dixwell," said the attorney, "and my young -friend here will be much the better for some good admonition; and for -sitting under your ministry, as I trust he will, some day soon; but we -must go I fear directly. However, there is one thing I want to say; -for you had nearly spoiled every thing to-day. No person playing at -cards--" - -"I never touch them," said the parson, with a holy horror in his face. - -"Well, others do," said the attorney, "and those who do never show -their hand to their opponent. Now, law is like a game of cards--" - -"In which the lawyer is sure to get the odd trick," observed the young -man. - -"And we must not have Sir Philip Hastings know one step that we are -taking," continued the lawyer. "If you have conscience, as I am sure -you have, and honor, as I know you have, you will not suffer any thing -that we have asked you, or said to you, to transpire; for then, of -course, Sir Philip would take every means to prevent our obtaining -information." - -"I do not think it," said the parson. - -"And justice and equity would be frustrated," proceeded the attorney, -"which you are bound by your profession to promote. We want nothing -but justice, Mr. Dixwell: justice, I say; and no one can tell what -card Sir Philip may play." - -"I will trump it with the knave," said the young man to himself; and -having again cautioned the clergyman to be secret, not without some -obscure menaces of danger to himself, if he failed, the two gentlemen -left him, and hurried down, as fast as they could go, to a small -alehouse in the village, where they had left their horses. In a few -minutes, a well known poacher, whose very frequent habitation was the -jail or the cage, was seen to issue forth from the door of the -ale-house, then to lead a very showy looking horse from the stable, -and then to mount him and take his way over the hill. The poacher had -never possessed a more dignified quadruped than a dog or a donkey in -his life; so that it was evident the horse could not be his. That he -was not engaged in the congenial but dangerous occupation of stealing -it, was clear from the fact of the owner of the beast gazing quietly -at him out of the window while he mounted; and then turning round to -the attorney, who sat at a table hard by, and saying, "he is off, I -think." - -"Well, let him go," replied the lawyer, "but I do not half like it, -Master John. Every thing in law should be cool and quiet. No -violence--no bustle." - -"But this is not a matter of law," replied the younger man, "it is a -matter of safety, you fool. What might come of it, if he were to have -a long canting talk with the old wretch upon her death-bed?" - -"Very little," replied the attorney, in a calm well-assured tone, "I -know her well. She is as hard as a flint stone. She always was, and -time has not softened her. Besides, he has no one with him to take -depositions, and if what you say is true, she'll not live till -morning." - -"But I tell you, she is getting frightened, as she comes near death!" -exclaimed the young man. "She has got all sorts of fancies into her -head; about hell, and purgatory, and the devil knows what; and she -spoke to my mother yesterday about repentance, and atonement, and a -pack of stuff more, and wanted extreme unction, and to confess to a -priest. It would be a fine salve, I fancy, that could patch up the -wounds in her conscience; but if this Philip Hastings were to come to -her with his grave face and solemn tone, and frighten her still more, -he would get any thing out of her he pleased." - -"I don't think it," answered the lawyer deliberately; "hate, Master -John, is the longest lived passion I know. It lasts into the grave, -as I have often seen in making good men's wills when they were -dying--sanctified, good men, I say. Why I have seen a man who has -spent half his fortune in charity, and built alms-houses, leave a -thoughtless son, or a runaway daughter, or a plain-spoken nephew, to -struggle with poverty all his life, refusing to forgive him, and -comforting himself with a text or a pretence. No, no; hate is the only -possession that goes out of the world with a man: and this old witch, -Danby, hates the whole race of Hastings with a goodly strength that -will not decay as her body does. Besides, Sir Philip is well-nigh as -puritanical as his father--a sort of cross-breed between an English -fanatic and an old Roman cynic. She abominates the very sound of his -voice, and nothing would reconcile her to him but his taking the mass -and abjuring the errors of Calvin. Ha! ha! ha! However, as you have -sent the fellow, it cannot be helped. Only remember I had nothing to -do with it if violence follows. That man is not to be trusted, and I -like to keep on the safe side of the law." - -"Ay, doubtless, doubtless," answered the youth, somewhat thoughtfully; -"it is your shield; and better stand behind than before it. However, I -don't doubt Tom Cutter in the least. Besides, I only told him to -interrupt them in their talk, and take care they had no private -gossip; to stick there till he was gone, and all that." - -"Sir Philip is not a man to bear such interruption," said the -attorney, gravely; "he is as quiet looking as the deep sea on a -summer's day; but there can come storms, I tell you, John, and then -woe to those who have trusted the quiet look." - -"Then, if he gets in a passion, and mischief comes of it," replied the -young man, with a laugh, "the fault is his, you know, Shanks." - -"True," answered the attorney, meditating, "and perhaps, by a little -clever twisting and timing, we might make something of it if he did, -were there any other person concerned but this Tom Cutter, and we had -a good serviceable witness or two. But this man is such a rogue that -his word is worth nothing; and to thrash him--though the business of -the beadle--would be no discredit to the magistrate. Besides, he is -sure to give the provocation, and one word of Sir Philip's would be -worth a thousand oaths of Tom Cutter's, in any court in the kingdom." - -"As to thrashing him, that few can do," replied the youth; "but only -remember, Shanks, that I gave no orders for violence." - -"I was not present," replied the attorney, with a grin; "you had -better, by a great deal, trust entirely to me, in these things, Master -John. If you do, I will bring you safely through, depend upon it; but -if you do not, nobody can tell what may come. Here comes Folwell, the -sexton. Now hold your tongue, and let me manage him, sir. You are not -acquainted with these matters." - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -Did you ever examine an ant-hill, dear reader? What a wonderful little -cosmos it is--what an epitome of a great city--of the human race! See -how the little fellows run bustling along upon their several -businesses--see how some get out of each other's way, how others -jostle, and others walk over their fellows' heads! But especially mark -that black gentleman, pulling hard to drag along a fat beetle's leg -and thigh, three times as large as his own body. He cannot get it on, -do what he will; and yet he tugs away, thinking it a very fine haunch -indeed. He does not perceive, what is nevertheless the fact, that -there are two others of his own race pulling at the other end, and -thus frustrating all his efforts. - -And thus it is with you, and me, and every one in the wide world. We -work blindly, unknowing the favoring or counteracting causes that are -constantly going on around us, to facilitate or impede our endeavors. -The wish to look into futurity is vain, irrational, almost impious; -but what a service would it be to any man if he could but get a sight -into Fate's great workshop, and see only that part in which the events -are on the anvil that affect our own proceedings. Still, even if we -did, we might not understand the machinery after all, and only burn or -pinch our fingers in trying to put pieces together which fate did not -intend to fit. - -In the mean time--that is to say while the attorney and his companion -were talking together at the alehouse--Sir Philip Hastings rode -quietly up the hill to the cottage I have before described, and -therefore shall not describe again, merely noticing that it now -presented an appearance of neatness and repair which it had not before -possessed. He tied his horse to the palings, walked slowly up the -little path, gazing right and left at the cabbages and carrots on -either side, and then without ceremony went in. - -The cottage had two tenants at this time, the invalid old woman, and -another, well-nigh as old but less decrepit, who had been engaged to -attend upon her in her sickness. How she got the money to pay her no -one knew, for her middle life and the first stage of old age had been -marked by poverty and distress; but somehow money seems to have a -natural affinity for old age. It grows upon old people, I think, like -corns; and certainly she never wanted money now. - -There she was, lying in her bed, a miserable object indeed to see. She -was like a woman made of fungus--not of that smooth, putty-like, -fleshy fungus which grows in dank places, but of the rough, rugged, -brown, carunculated sort which rises upon old stumps of trees and -dry-rot gate-posts. Teeth had departed nearly a quarter of a century -before, and the aquiline features had become more hooked and beaky for -their loss; but the eyes had now lost their keen fire, and were dull -and filmy. - -The attorney was quite right. Hate was the last thing to go out in the -ashes where the spark of life itself lingered, but faintly. At first -she could not see who it was entered the cottage; for the sight now -reached but a short distance from her own face. But the sound of his -voice, as he inquired of the other old woman how she was going on, at -once showed her who it was, and hate at least roused "the dull cold -ear of death." - -For a moment or two she lay muttering sounds which seemed to have no -meaning; but at length she said, distinctly enough, "Is that Philip -Hastings?" - -"Yes, my poor woman," said the baronet; "is there any thing I can do -for you?" - -"Come nearer, come nearer," she replied, "I cannot see you plainly." - -"I am close to you, nevertheless," he answered. "I am touching the bed -on which you lie." - -"Let me feel you," continued she--"give me your hand." - -He did as she asked him; and holding by his hand, she made a great -struggle to raise herself in bed; but she could not, and lay exhausted -for a minute before she spoke again. - -At length, however, she raised her voice louder and shriller than -before--"May a curse rest upon this hand and upon that head!" she -exclaimed; "may the hand work its own evil, and the head its own -destruction! May the child of your love poison your peace, and make -you a scoff, and a by-word, and a shame! May the wife of your bosom -perish by----" - -But Sir Philip Hastings withdrew his hand suddenly, and an unwonted -flush came upon his cheek. - -"For shame!" he said, in a low stern tone, "for shame!" - -The next moment, however, he recovered himself perfectly; and turning -to the nurse he added, "Poor wretch! my presence only seems to excite -evil feelings which should long have passed away, and are not fit -counsellors for the hour of death. If there be any thing which can -tend to her bodily comfort that the hall can supply, send up for it. -The servants have orders. Would that any thing could be done for her -spiritual comfort; for this state is terrible to witness." - -"She often asks for a priest, your worship," said the nurse. "Perhaps -if she could see one she might think better before she died." - -"Alas, I doubt it," replied the visitor; "but at all events we cannot -afford her that relief. No such person can be found here." - -"I don't know, Sir Philip," said the old woman, with a good deal of -hesitation; "they do say that at Carrington, there is--there is what -they call a seminary." - -"You do not mean a papist college!" exclaimed the baronet, with -unfeigned surprise and consternation. - -"Oh, dear, no sir," replied the nurse, "only a gentleman--a -seminary--a seminary priest, I think they call it; a papist certainly; -but they say he is a very good gentleman, all but that." - -Sir Philip mused for a minute or two, and then turned to the door, -saying, "Methinks it is hard that a dying woman cannot have the -consolations of the rites of her own faith--mummery though they be. As -a magistrate, my good woman, I can give no authority in this business. -You must do as you think fit. I myself know of no priest in this -neighborhood, or I should be bound to cause his apprehension. I shall -take no notice of your word, however, and as to the rest, you must, as -I have said, act as you think fit. I did not make the laws, and I may -think them cruel. Did I make them, I would not attempt to shackle the -conscience of any one. Farewell," and passing through the door, he -remounted his horse and rode away. - -It was in the early autumn time of the year, and the scene was -peculiarly lovely. I have given a slight description of it before, but -I must pause and dwell upon it once more, even as Sir Philip Hastings -paused and dwelt upon its loveliness at that moment, although he had -seen and watched it a thousand times before. He was not very -impressible by fine scenery. Like the sages of Laputa, his eyes were -more frequently turned inwards than outwards; but there was something -in that landscape which struck a chord in his heart, that is sure to -vibrate easily in the heart of every one of his countrymen. - -It was peculiarly English--I might say singularly English; for I have -never seen any thing of exactly the same character anywhere else but -in Old England--except indeed in New England, where I know not whether -it be from the country having assimilated itself to the people, or -from the people having chosen the country from the resemblance to -their own paternal dwelling place, many a scene strikes the eye which -brings back to the wandering Englishman all the old, dear feelings of -his native land, and for a moment he may well forget that the broad -Atlantic rolls between him and and the home of his youth. - -But let me return to my picture. Sir Philip Hastings sat upon his -horse's back, very nearly at the summit of the long range of hills -which bisected the county in which he dwelt. I have described, in -mentioning his park, the sandy character of the soil on the opposite -slope of the rise; but here higher up, and little trodden by -pulverizing feet, the sandstone rock itself occasionally broke out in -rugged maps, diversifying the softer characteristics of the scene. -Wide, and far away, on either hand, the eye could wander along the -range, catching first upon some bold mass of hill, or craggy piece of -ground, assuming almost the character of a cliff, seen in hard and -sharp distinctness, with its plume of trees and coronet of yellow -gorse, and then, proceeding onward to wave after wave, the sight -rested upon the various projecting points, each softer and softer as -they receded, like the memories of early days, till the last lines of -the wide sweep left the mind doubtful whether they were forms of earth -or clouds, or merely fancy. - -Such was the scene on either hand, but straightforward it was very -different, but still quite English. Were you ever, reader, borne to -the top of a very high wave in a small boat, and did you ever, looking -down the watery mountain, mark how the steep descent, into the depth -below, was checkered by smaller waves, and these waves again by -ripples? Such was the character of the view beneath the feet of the -spectator. There was a gradual, easy descent from the highest point of -the whole county down to a river-nurtured valley, not unbroken, but -with lesser and lesser waves of earth, varying the aspect of the -scene. These waves again were marked out, first by scattered and -somewhat stunted trees, then by large oaks and chestnuts, not -undiversified by the white and gleaming bark of the graceful birch. A -massive group of birches here and there was seen; a scattered cottage, -too, with its pale bluish wreath of smoke curling up over the -tree-tops. Then, on the lower slope of all, came hedgerows of elms, -with bright green rolls of verdant turf between; the spires of -churches; the roofs and white walls of many sorts of man's -dwelling-places, and gleams of a bright river, with two or three -arches of a bridge. Beyond that again appeared a rich wide valley--I -might almost have called it a plain, all in gay confusion, with -fields, and houses, and villages, and trees, and streams, and towns, -mixed altogether in exquisite disorder, and tinted with all the -variety of colors and shades that belong to autumn and to sunset. - -Down the descent, the eye of Sir Philip Hastings could trace several -roads and paths, every step of which he knew, like daily habits. There -was one, a bridle-way from a town about sixteen miles distant, which, -climbing the hills almost at its outset, swept along the whole range, -about midway between the summit and the valley. Another, by which he -had come, and along which he intended to proceed, traversed the crest -of the hills ere it reached the cottage, and then descended with a -wavy line into the valley, crossing the bridle-path I have mentioned. -A wider path--indeed it might be called a road, though it was not a -turnpike--came over the hills from the left, and with all those easy -graceful turns which Englishmen so much love in their highways, and -Frenchmen so greatly abhor, descended likewise into the valley, to the -small market-town, glimpses of which might be caught over the tops of -the trees. As the baronet sat there on horseback, and looked around, -more than one living object met his eye. To say nothing of some sheep -wandering along the uninclosed part of the hill, now stopping to -nibble the short grass, now trotting forward for a sweeter bite,--not -to notice the oxen in the pastures below, there was a large cart -slowly winding its way along an open part of the road, about half a -mile distant, and upon the bridle-path which I have mentioned, the -figure of a single horseman was seen, riding quietly and easily along, -with a sauntering sort of air, which gave the beholder at once the -notion that he was what Sterne would have called a "picturesque -traveller," and was enjoying the prospect as he went. - -On the road that came over the hill from the left, was another rider -of very different demeanor, going along at a rattling pace, and -apparently somewhat careless of his horse's knees. - -The glance which Sir Philip Hastings gave to either of them was but -slight and hasty. His eyes were fixed upon the scene before him, -feeling, rather than understanding, its beauties, while he commented -In his mind, after his own peculiar fashion. I need not trace the -procession of thought through his brain. It ended, however, with the -half uttered words, - -"Strange, that such a land should have produced so many scoundrels, -tyrants, and knaves!" - -He then slowly urged his horse forward, down the side of the hill, -soon reached some tall trees, where the inclosures and hedgerows -commenced, and was approaching the point at which the road he was -travelling, crossed the bridle-path, when he heard some loud, and as -it seemed to him, angry words, passing between two persons he could -not see. - -"I will soon teach you that;" cried a loud, coarse tongue, adding an -exceedingly blasphemous oath, which I will spare the reader. - -"My good friend," replied another milder voice, "I neither desire to -be taught any thing, just now, nor would you be the teacher I should -chose, if I did, though perchance, in case of need, I might give you a -lesson, which would be of some service to you." - -Sir Philip rode on, and the next words he heard were spoken by the -first voice, to the following effect; "Curse me, if I would not try -that, only my man might get off in the mean time; and I have other -business in hand than yours. Otherwise I would give you such a licking -in two minutes, you would be puzzled to find a white spot on your skin -for the neat month." - -"Two minutes would not detain you long," replied the calmer voice, -"and, as I have never had such a beating, I should like to see, first, -whether you could give it, and secondly, what it would be like." - -"Upon my soul, you are cool!" exclaimed the first speaker with another -oath. - -"Perfectly," replied the second; and, at the same moment, Sir Philip -Hastings emerged from among the trees, at the point where the two -roads crossed, and where the two speakers were face to face before his -eyes. - -The one, who was in truth the sauntering traveller whom he has seen -wending along the bridle-path, was a tall, good-looking young man, of -three or four and twenty years of age. In the other, the Baronet had -no difficulty in recognizing at once, Tom Cutter, the notorious -poacher and bruiser, whom he had more than once had the satisfaction -of committing to jail. To see him mounted on a very fine powerful -horse, was a matter of no slight surprise to Sir Philip; but, -naturally concluding that he had stolen it, and was making off with -his prize for sale to the neighboring town, he rode forward and put -himself right in the way, determined to stop him. - -"Ay, ay! Here is my man!" cried Tom Cutter, as soon as he saw him. "I -will settle with him first, and then for you, my friend." - -"No, no, to an old proverb, first come must be first served," replied -the traveller, pushing his horse forward a few steps. - -"Keep the peace, in the King's name!" exclaimed Sir Philip Hastings. -"I, as a magistrate, charge you, sir, to assist me in apprehending -this man!--Thomas Cutter, get off that horse!" - -The only reply was a coarse and violent expletive, and a blow with a -thick heavy stick, aimed right at Sir Philip's head. The magistrate -put up his arm, which received the blow, and was nearly fractured by -it; but at the same moment, the younger traveller spurred forward his -horse upon the ruffian, and with one sweep of his arm struck him to -the ground. - -Tom Cutter was upon, his feet again in a moment. He was accustomed to -hard blows, and like the immortal hero of Butler, could almost tell -the quality of the stick he was beat withal. He was not long in -discovering, therefore, that the fist which struck him was of no -ordinary weight, and was directed with skill as well as with vigor; -but he was accustomed to make it his boast, that he had never taken a -licking "from any man," which vanity caused him at once to risk such -another blow, in the hope of having his revenge. - -Rushing upon the young stranger then, stick in hand, he prepared to -knock him from his horse; for the other appeared to have no defensive -arms, but a slight hazel twig, pulled from a hedge. - -"He will jump off the other side of his horse," thought Tom Cutter; -"and then, if he do, I'll contrive to knock the nag over upon him. I -know that trick, well enough." - -But the stranger disappointed him. Instead of opposing the horse -between him and his assailant, he sprung with one bound out of the -saddle, on the side next to the ruffian himself, caught the uplifted -stick with one hand, and seized the collar of the bruiser's coat with -the other. - -Tom Cutter began to suspect he had made a mistake; but, knowing that -at such close quarters the stick would avail him little, and that -strength of thews and sinews would avail him much, he dropped the -cudgel, and grappled with the stranger in return. - -It was all the work of a moment. Sir Philip Hastings had no time to -interfere. There was a momentary struggle, developing the fine -proportions and great strength and skill of the wrestlers; and then, -Tom Cutter lay on his back upon the ground. The next instant, the -victor put his foot upon his chest, and kept the ruffian forcibly -down, notwithstanding all his exclamations of "Curse me, that isn't -fair! When you give a man a fall, let him get up again!" - -"If he is a fair fighter, I do," replied the other; "but when he plays -pirate, I don't--" Then turning to Sir Philip Hastings, who had by -this time dismounted, he said, "What is to be done with this fellow, -sir? It seems he came here for the express purpose of assaulting you, -for he began his impertinence, with asking if you had passed, giving a -very accurate description of your person, and swearing you should find -every dog would have his day." - -"His offence towards myself," replied the Baronet, "I will pass over, -for it seems to me, he has been punished enough in his own way; but I -suspect he has stolen this horse. He is a man of notoriously bad -character, who can never have obtained such an animal by honest -means." - -"No, I didn't steal him, I vow and swear," cried the ruffian, in a -piteous tone; for bullies are almost always cravens; "he was lent to -me by Johny Groves--some call him another name; but that don't -signify.--He lent him to me, to come up here, to stop your gab with -the old woman, Mother Danty; and mayhap to give you a good basting -into the bargain. But I didn't steal the horse no how; and there he -is, running away over the hill-side, and I shall never catch him; for -this cursed fellow has well nigh broken my back." - -"Served you quite right, my friend," replied the stranger, still -keeping him tightly down with his foot. "How came you to use a cudgel -to a man who had none? Take my advice, another time, and know your man -before you meddle with him." - -In the mean time Sir Philip Hastings had fallen into a profound -reverie, only repeating to himself the words "John Groves." Now the -train of thought which was awakened in his mind, though not quite new, -was unpleasant to him; for the time when he first became familiar with -that name was immediately subsequent to the opening of his father's -will, in which had been found a clause ordering the payment of a -considerable sum of money to some very respectable trustees, for the -purpose of purchasing an annuity in favor of one John Groves, then a -minor. - -There had been something about the clause altogether which the son and -heir of Sir John Hastings could not understand, and did not like. -However, the will enjoined him generally to make no inquiry whatsoever -into the motives of any of the bequests, and with his usual stern -rigidity in what he conceived right, he had not only asked no -questions, but had stopped bluntly one of the trustees, who was about -to enter into some explanations. The money was paid according to -directions received, and he had never heard the name of John Groves -from that moment till it issued from the lips of the ruffian upon the -present occasion. - -"What the man says may be true," said Sir Philip Hastings, at length; -"there is a person of the name he mentions. I know not how I can have -offended him. It may be as well to let him rise and catch his horse if -he can; but remember, Master Cutter, my eye is upon you; two competent -witnesses have seen you in possession of that horse, and if you -attempt to sell him, you will hang for it." - -"I know better than to do that," said the bruiser, rising stiffly from -the ground as the stranger withdrew his foot; "but I can tell you, Sir -Philip, others have their eyes upon you, so you had better look to -yourself. You hold your head mightily top high, just now: but it may -chance to come down." - -Sir Philip Hastings did not condescend to reply, even by a look; but -turning to the stranger, as if the man's words had never reached his -ear, he said, "I think we had better ride on, sir. You seem to be -going my way. Night is falling fast, and in this part of the country -two is sometimes a safer number to travel with than one." - -The other bowed his head gravely, and remounting their horses they -proceeded on the way before them, while Tom Cutter, after giving up -some five minutes to the condemnation of the eyes, limbs, blood, and -soul of himself and several other persons, proceeded to catch the -horse which he had been riding as fast as he could. But the task -proved a difficult one. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -The two horsemen rode on their way. Neither spoke for several minutes. -Sir Philip Hastings pondering sternly on all that had passed, and his -younger companion gazing upon the scene around flooded with the -delicious rays of sunset, as if nothing had passed at all. - -Sir Philip, as I have shown the reader, had a habit of brooding over -any thing which excited much interest in his breast--nay more, of -extracting from it, by a curious sort of alchemy, essence very -different from its apparent nature, sometimes bright, fine, and -beneficial, and others dark and maleficent. The whole of the -transaction just past disturbed him much; it puzzled him; it set his -imagination running upon a thousand tracks, and most of them wrong -ones; and thought was not willing to be called from her vagaries to -deal with any other subject than that which preoccupied her. - -The young stranger, on the other hand, seemed one of those characters -which take all things much more lightly. In the moment of action, he -had shown skill, resolution, and energy enough, but as he sat there on -his horse's back, looking round at every point of any interest to an -admirer of nature with an easy, calm and unconcerned air, no one who -saw him could have conceived that he had been engaged the moment -before in so fierce though short a struggle. There was none of the -heat of the combatant or the triumph of the victor in his air or -countenance, and his placid and equable expression of face contrasted -strongly with the cloud which sat upon the brow of his companion. - -"I beg your pardon, sir, for my gloomy silence," said Sir Philip -Hastings, at length, conscious that his demeanor was not very -courteous, "but this affair troubles me. Besides certain relations -which it bears to matters of private concernment, I am not satisfied -as to how I should deal with the ruffian we have suffered to depart so -easily. His assault upon myself I do not choose to treat harshly; but -the man is a terror to the country round, committing many an act to -which the law awards a very insufficient punishment, but with cunning -sufficient to keep within that line, the passage beyond which would -enable society to purge itself of such a stain upon it; how to deal -with him, I say, embarrasses me greatly. I have committed him two or -three times to prison already; and I am inclined to regret that I did -not, on this occasion, when he was in the very act of breaking the -law, send my sword through him, and I should have been well justified -in doing so." - -"Nay, sir, methinks that would have been too much," replied his -companion; "he has had a fall, which, if I judge rightly, will be a -sufficient punishment for his assault upon you. According to the very -_lex talionis_, he has had what he deserves. If he has nearly broke -your arm, I think I have nearly broken his back." - -"It is not his punishment for any offence to myself, sir, I seek," -replied the baronet; "it is a duty to society to free it from the load -of such a man whenever he himself affords the opportunity of doing so. -Herein the law would have justified me, but even had it not been so, I -can conceive many cases where it may be necessary for the benefit of -our country and society to go beyond what the law will justify, and to -make the law for the necessity." - -"Brutus, and a few of his friends, did so," replied the young stranger -with a smile, "and we admire them very much for so doing, but I am -afraid we should hang them, nevertheless, if they were in a position -to try the thing over again. The illustration of the gibbet and the -statue might have more applications than one, for I sincerely believe, -if we could revive historical characters, we should almost in all -cases erect a gallows for those to whom we now raise a monument." - -Sir Philip Hastings turned and looked at him attentively, and saw his -face was gay and smiling. "You take all these things very lightly -sir," he said. - -"With a safe lightness," replied the stranger. - -"Nay, with something more," rejoined his companion; "in your short -struggle with that ruffian, you sprang upon him, and overthrew him -like a lion, with a fierce activity which I can hardly imagine really -calmed down so soon." - -"O yes it is, my dear sir," replied the stranger, "I am somewhat of a -stoic in all things. It is not necessary that rapidity of thought and -action, in a moment of emergency, should go one line beyond the -occasion, or sink one line deeper than the mere reason. The man who -suffers his heart to be fluttered, or his passions to be roused, by -any just action he is called upon to do, is not a philosopher. -Understand me, however; I do not at all pretend to be quite perfect in -my philosophy; but, at all events, I trust I schooled myself well -enough not to suffer a wrestling match with a contemptible animal like -that, to make my pulse beat a stroke quicker after the momentary -effort is over." - -Sir Philip Hastings was charmed with the reply; for though it was a -view of philosophy which he could not and did not follow, however much -he might agree to it, yet the course of reasoning and the sources of -argument were so much akin to those he usually sought, that he fancied -he had at length found a man quite after his own heart. He chose to -express no farther opinion upon the subject, however, till he had seen -more of his young companion; but that more he determined to see. In -the mean time he easily changed the conversation, saying, "You seemed -to be a very skilful and practised wrestler, sir." - -"I was brought up in Cornwall," replied the other, "though not a -Cornish man, and having no affinity even with the Terse and the -Tees--an Anglo Saxon, I am proud to believe, for I look upon that race -as the greatest which the world has yet produced." - -"What, superior to the Roman?" asked Sir Philip. - -"Ay, even so," answered the stranger, "with as much energy, as much -resolution, less mobility, more perseverance, with many a quality -which the Roman did not possess. The Romans have left us many a fine -lesson which we are capable of practising as well as they, while we -can add much of which they had no notion." - -"I should like much to discuss the subject with you more at large," -said Sir Philip Hastings, in reply; "but I know not whether we have -time sufficient to render it worth while to begin." - -"I really hardly know, either," answered the young stranger; "for, in -the first place, I am unacquainted with the country, and in the next -place, I know not how far you are going. My course tends towards a -small town called Hartwell--or, as I suspect it ought to be Hartswell, -probably from some fountain a which hart and hind used to come and -drink." - -"I am going a little beyond it," replied Sir Philip Hastings, "so that -our journey will be for the next ten miles together;" and with this -good space of time before him, the baronet endeavored to bring his -young companion back to the subject which had been started, a very -favorite one with him at all times. - -But the stranger seemed to have his hobbies as well as Sir Philip, and -having dashed into etymology in regard to Hartwell, he pursued it with -an avidity which excluded all other topics. - -"I believe," he said, not in the least noticing Sir Philip's -dissertation on Roman virtues--"my own belief is, that there is not a -proper name in England, except a few intruded upon us by the Normans, -which might not easily be traced to accidental circumstances in the -history of the family or the place. Thus, in the case of Aylesbury, or -Eaglestown, from which it is derived, depend upon it the place has -been noted as a resort for eagles in old times, coming thither -probably for the ducks peculiar to that place. Bristol, in Anglo -Saxon, meaning the place of a bridge, is very easily traceable; and -Costa, or Costaford, meaning in Anglo Saxon the tempter's ford, -evidently derives its name from monk or maiden having met the enemy of -man or womankind at that place, and having had cause to rue the -encounter. All the Hams, all the Tons, and all the Sons, lead us at -once to the origin of the name, to say nothing of all the points of -the compass, all the colors of the rainbow, and every trade that the -ingenuity of man has contrived to invent." - -In vain Sir Philip Hastings for the next half hour endeavored to bring -him back to what he considered more important questions. He had -evidently had enough of the Romans for the time being, and indulged -himself in a thousand fanciful speculations upon every other subject -but that, till Sir Philip, who at one time had rated his intellect -very highly, began to think him little better than a fool. Suddenly, -however, as if from a sense of courtesy rather than inclination, the -young man let his older companion have his way in the choice of -subject, and in his replies showed such depth of thought, such a -thorough acquaintance with history, and such precise and definite -views, that once more the baronet changed his opinion, and said to -himself, "This is a fine and noble intellect indeed, nearly spoiled by -the infection of a corrupt and frivolous world, but which might be -reclaimed, if fortune would throw him in the way of those whose -principles have been fixed and tried." - -He pondered upon the matter for some short time. It was now completely -dark, and the town to which the stranger was going distant not a -quarter of a mile. The little stars were looking out in the heavens, -peering at man's actions like bright-eyed spies at night; but the moon -had not risen, and the only light upon the path was reflected from the -flashing, dancing stream that ran along beside the road, seeming to -gather up all the strong rays from the air, and give them back again -with interest. - -"You are coming very near Hartwell," said Sir Philip, at length; "but -it is somewhat difficult to find from this road, and being, but little -out of my way, I will accompany you thither, and follow the high road -onwards." - -The stranger was about to express his thanks, but the Baronet stopped -him, saying, "Not in the least, my young friend. I am pleased with -your conversation, and should be glad to cultivate your acquaintance -if opportunity should serve. I am called Sir Philip Hastings, and -shall be glad to see you at any time, if you are passing near my -house." - -"I shall certainly wait upon you, Sir Philip, if I stay any time in -this county," replied the other. "That, however, is uncertain, for I -come here merely on a matter of business, which may be settled in a -few hours--indeed it ought to be so, for it seems to me very simple. -However, it may detain me much longer, and then I shall not fail to -take advantage of your kind permission." - -He spoke gravely, and little more was said till they entered the small -town of Hartwell, about half through which a large gibbet-like bar was -seen projecting from the front of a house, suspending a large board, -upon which was painted a star. The light shining from the windows of -an opposite house fell upon the symbol, and the stranger, drawing in -his rein, said, "Here is my inn, and I will now wish you good night, -with many thanks, Sir Philip." - -"Methinks it is I should thank you," replied the Baronet, "both for a -pleasant journey, and for the punishment you inflicted on the ruffian -Cutter." - -"As for the first," said the stranger, "that has been more than -repaid, if indeed it deserved thanks at all; and as for the other, -that was a pleasure in itself. There is a great satisfaction to me in -breaking down the self-confidence of one of these burly bruisers." - -As he spoke, he dismounted, again wishing Sir Philip good night, and -the latter rode on upon his way. His meditations, as he went, were -altogether upon the subject of the young stranger; for, as I have -shown, Sir Philip rarely suffered two ideas to get any strong grasp of -his mind at the same time. He revolved, and weighed, and dissected -every thing the young man had said, and the conclusion that he came to -was even more favorable than at first. He seemed a man after his own -heart, with just sufficient differences of opinion and diversities of -character to make the Baronet feel a hankering for some opportunity of -moulding and modelling him to his own standard of perfection. Who he -could be, he could not by any means divine. That he was a gentleman in -manners and character, there could be no doubt. That he was not rich, -Sir Philip argued from the fact of his not having chosen the best inn -in the little town, and he might also conclude that he was of no very -distinguished family, as he had not thought fit to mention his own -name in return for the Baronet's frank invitation. - -Busy with these thoughts Sir Philip rode on but slowly, and took -nearly half an hour to reach the gates of Mrs. Hazleton's park, though -they stood only two miles' distance from the town. He arrived before -them at length, however, and rang the bell. The lodge-keeper opened -them but slowly, and putting his horse to a quicker pace, Sir Philip -trotted up the avenue towards the house. He had not reached it, -however, when he heard the sound of horses feet behind him, and, as he -was dismounting at the door, his companion of the way rode quickly up -and sprang to the ground, saying, with a laugh-- - -"I find, Sir Philip, that we are both to enjoy the same quarters -to-night, for, on my arrival at Hartwell, I did not expect to visit -this house till to-morrow morning. Mrs. Hazleton, however, has very -kindly had my baggage brought up from the inn, and therefore I have no -choice but to intrude upon her to-night." - -As he spoke the doors of the house were thrown open, servants came -forth to take the horses, and the two gentlemen were ushered at once -into Mrs. Hazleton's receiving-room. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -Mrs. Hazleton was looking as beautiful as she had been at -twenty--perhaps more so; for the few last years before the process of -decay commences, sometimes adds rather than detracts from woman's -loveliness. She was dressed with great skill and taste too; nay, even -with peculiar care. The hair, which had not yet even one silver thread -in its wavy mass, was so arranged as to hide, in some degree, that -height and width of forehead which gave almost too intellectual an -expression to her countenance--which, upon some occasions, rendered -the expression (for the features were all feminine) more that of a man -than that of a woman. Her dress was very simple in appearance though -costly in material; but it had been chosen and fitted by the nicest -art, of colors which best harmonized with her complexion, and in forms -rather to indicate beauties than to display them. - -Thus attired, with grace and dignity in every motion, she advanced to -meet Sir Philip Hastings, frankly holding out her hand to him, and -beaming on him one of her most lustrous smiles. It was all thrown away -upon him indeed; but that did not matter. It had its effect in another -quarter. She then turned to the younger gentleman with a greater -degree of reserve in manner, but yet, as she spoke to him and welcomed -him to her house, the color deepened on her cheek with a blush that -would not have been lost to Sir Philip if he had been at all in the -custom of making use of them. They had evidently met before, but not -often and her words, "Good evening, Mr. Marlow, I am glad to see you -at my house at length," were said in the tone if one who was really -glad, but did not wish to show it too plainly. - -"You have come with my friend, Sir Philip Hastings," she added; "I did -not know you were acquainted." - -"Nor were we, my dear madam, till this evening," replied the Baronet, -speaking for himself and his companion of the road, "till we met by -accident on the hill-side on our way hither. We had a somewhat -unpleasant encounter with a notorious personage of the name of Tom -Cutter, which brought us first into acquaintance; though, till you -uttered it, my young friend's name was unknown to me." - -"Tom Cutter! is that the man who poaches all my game?" said the lady, -in a musing tone. - -Nor was she musing of Tom Cutter, or the lost game, or of the sins and -iniquities of poaching; neither one or the other. The exclamation and -inquiry taken together were only one of those little half-unconscious -stratagems of human nature, by which we often seek to amuse the other -parties in conversation--and sometimes amuse our own outward man -too--while the little spirit within is busily occupied with some -question which we do not wish our interlocutors to have any thing to -do with. She was asking herself, in fact, what had been the -conversation with which Sir Philip Hastings and Mr. Marlow had -beguiled the way--whether they had talked of her--whether they had -talked of her affairs--and how she could best get some information on -the subject without seeming to seek it. - -She soon had an opportunity of considering the matter more at leisure, -for Sir Philip Hastings, with some remark as to "dusty dresses not -being fit for ladies' drawing-rooms," retired for a time to the -chamber prepared for him. The fair lady of the house detained Mr. -Marlow indeed for a few minutes, talking with him in a pleasant and -gentle tone, and making her bright eyes do their best in the way of -captivating. She expressed regret that she had not seen him more -frequently, and expressed a hope, in very graceful terms, that even -the painful question, which those troublesome men of law had started -between them, might be a means of ripening their acquaintance into -friendship. - -The young gentleman replied with all gallantry, but with due -discretion, and then retired to his room to change his dress. He -certainly was a very good-looking young man; finely formed, and with a -pleasing though not regularly handsome countenance; and perhaps he -left Mrs. Hazleton other matters to meditate of than the topics of his -conversation with Sir Philip Hastings. Certain it is, that when the -baronet returned very shortly after, he found his beautiful hostess in -a profound reverie, from which his sudden entrance made her start with -a bewildered look not common to her. - -"I am very glad to talk to you for a few moments alone, my dear -friend," said Mrs. Hazleton, after a moment's pause. "This Mr. Marlow -is the gentleman who claims the very property on which you now stand;" -and she proceeded to give her hearer, partly by spontaneous -explanations, partly by answers to his questions, her own view of the -case between herself and Mr. Marlow; laboring hard and skilfully to -prepossess the mind of Sir Philip Hastings with a conviction of her -rights as opposed to that of her young guest. - -"Do you mean to say, my dear madam," asked Sir Philip, "that he claims -the whole of this large property? That would be a heavy blow indeed." - -"Oh, dear, no," replied the lady; "the great bulk of the property is -mine beyond all doubt, but the land on which this house stands, and -rather more than a thousand acres round it, was bought by my poor -father before I was born, I believe, as affording the most eligible -site for a mansion. He never liked the old house near your place, and -built this for himself. Mr. Marlow's lawyers now declare that his -grand-uncle, who sold the land to my father, had no power to sell it; -that the property was strictly entailed." - -"That will be easily ascertained," said Sir Philip Hastings; "and I am -afraid, my dear madam, if that should prove the case, you will have no -remedy but to give up the property." - -"But is not that very hard?" asked Mrs. Hazleton, "the Marlows -certainly had the money." - -"That will make no difference," replied Sir Philip, musing; "this -young man's grand-uncle may have wronged your father; but he is not -responsible for the act, and I am very much afraid, moreover, that his -claim may not be limited to the property itself. Back rents, I -suspect, might be claimed." - -"Ay, that is what my lawyer, Mr. Shanks, says," replied Mrs. Hazleton, -with a bewildered look; "he tells me that if Mr. Marlow is successful -in the suit, I shall have to pay the whole of the rents of the land. -But Shanks added that he was quite certain of beating him if we could -retain for our counsel Sargeant Tutham and Mr. Doubledo." - -"Shanks is a rogue," said Sir Philip Hastings, in a calm, equable -tone; "and the two lawyers you have named bear the reputation of being -learned and unscrupulous men. The first point, my dear madam, is to -ascertain whether this young gentleman's claim is just, and then to -deal with him equitably, which, in the sense I affix to the term, may -be somewhat different from legal." - -"I really do not know what to do," cried Mrs. Hazleton, with a slight -laugh, as if at her own perplexity. "I Was never in such a situation -in my life;" and then she added, very rapidly and in a jocular tone, -as if she were afraid of pausing upon or giving force to any one word, -"if my poor father had been alive, he would have settled it all after -his own way soon enough. He was a great match-maker you know, Sir -Philip, and he would have proposed, in spite of all obstacles, a -marriage between the two parties, to settle the affair by matrimony -instead of by law," and she laughed again as if the very idea was -ridiculous. - -Unlearned Sir Philip thought so too, and most improperly replied, "The -difference of age would of course put that out of the question;" nor -when he had committed the indiscretion, did he perceive the red spot -which came upon Mrs. Hazleton's fair brow, and indicated sufficiently -enough the effect his words had produced. There was an ominous silent -pause, however, for a minute, and then the Baronet was the person to -resume the discourse in his usual calm, argumentative tone. "I do not -think," he said, "from Mr. Marlow's demeanor or conversation, that he -is likely to be very exacting in this matter. His claim, however, must -be looked to in the first place, before we admit any thing on your -part. If the property was really entailed, he has undoubtedly a right -to it, both in honesty and in law; but methinks there he might limit -his claim if his sense of real equity be strong; but the entail must -be made perfectly clear before you can admit so much as that." - -"Well, well, sir," said Mrs. Hazleton, hastily, for she heard a step -on the outer stairs, "I will leave it entirely to you, Sir Philip, I -am sure you will take good care of my interests." - -Sir Philip did not altogether like the word interests, and bowing his -head somewhat stiffly, he added, "and of your honor, my dear madam." - -Mrs. Hazleton liked his words as little as he did hers, and she -colored highly. She made no reply, indeed, but his words that night -were never forgotten. - -The next moment Mr. Marlow entered the room with a quiet, easy air, -evidently quite unconscious of having been the subject of -conversation. During the evening he paid every sort of polite -attention to his fair hostess, and undoubtedly showed signs and -symptoms of thinking her a very beautiful and charming woman. Whatever -was her game, take my word for it, reader, she played it skilfully, -and the very fact of her retiring early, at the very moment when she -had made the most favorable impression, leaving Sir Philip Hastings to -entertain Mr. Marlow at supper, was not without its calculation. - -As soon as the lady was gone, Sir Philip turned to the topic of Mrs. -Hazleton's business with his young companion, and managed the matter -more skilfully than might have been expected. He simply told him that -Mrs. Hazleton had mentioned a claim made upon her estate by his -lawyers, and had thought it better to leave the investigation of the -affair to her friend, rather than to professional persons. - -A frank good-humored smile came upon Mr. Marlow's face at once. "I am -not a rich man, Sir Philip," he said, "and make no professions of -generosity, but, at the same time, as my grand-uncle undoubtedly had -this money from Mrs. Hazleton's father, I should most likely never -have troubled her on the subject, but that this very estate is the -original seat of our family, on which we can trace our ancestors back -through many centuries. The property was undoubtedly entailed, my -father and my uncle were still living when it was sold, and performed -no disentailing act whatever. This is perfectly susceptible of proof, -and though my claim may put Mrs. Hazleton to some inconvenience, I am -anxious to avoid putting her to any pain. Now I have come down with a -proposal which I confidently trust you will think reasonable. Indeed, -I expected to find her lawyer here rather than an independent friend, -and I was assured that my proposal would be accepted immediately, by -persons who judged of my rights more sanely perhaps than I could." - -"May I hear what the proposal is?" asked Sir Philip. - -"Assuredly," replied Mr. Marlow, "it is this: that in the first place -Mrs. Hazleton should appoint some gentleman of honor, either at the -bar or not, as she may think fit, to investigate my claim, with myself -or some other gentleman on my part, with right to call in a third as -umpire between them. I then propose that if my claim should be -distinctly proved, Mrs. Hazleton should surrender to me the lands in -question, I repaying her the sum which my grand-uncle received, and--" - -"Stay," said Sir Philip Hastings, "are you aware that the law would -not oblige you to do that?" - -"Perfectly," replied Mr. Marlow, "and indeed I am not very sure that -equity would require it either, for I do not know that my father ever -received any benefit from the money paid to his uncle. He may have -received a part however, without my knowing it, for I would rather err -on the right side than on the wrong. I then propose that the rents of -the estate, as shown by the leases, and fair interest upon the value -of the ground surrounding this house, should be computed during the -time that it has been out of our possession, while on the other hand -the legal interest of the money paid for the property should be -calculated for the same period, the smaller sum deducted from the -larger, and the balance paid by me to Mrs. Hazleton or by Mrs. -Hazleton to me, so as to replace every thing in the same state as if -this unfortunate sale had never taken place." - -Sir Philip Hastings mused without reply for more than one minute. That -is a long time to muse, and many may be the thoughts and feelings -which pass through the breast of man during that space. They were many -in the present instance, and it would not be very easy to separate or -define them. Sir Philip thought of all the law would have granted to -the young claimant under the circumstances of the case: the whole -property, all the back rents, every improvement that had been made, -the splendid mansion in which they were then standing, without the -payment on his part of a penny: he compared these legal rights with -what he now proposed, and he saw that he had indeed gone a great way -on the generous side of equity. There was something very fine and -noble in this conduct, something that harmonized well with his own -heart and feelings. There was no exaggeration, no romance about it: he -spoke in the tone of a man of business doing a right thing well -considered, and the Baronet was satisfied in every respect but one. -Mrs. Hazleton's words I must not say had created a suspicion, but had -suggested the idea that other feelings might be acting between her and -his young companion, notwithstanding the difference of age which he -had so bluntly pointed out, and he resolved to inquire farther. - -In the mean time, however, Mr. Marlow somewhat misinterpreted his -silence, and he added, after waiting longer than was pleasant, "Of -course you understand, Sir Philip, that if two or three honest men -decide that my case is unfounded--although I know that cannot be the -case--I agree to drop it at once and renounce it for ever. My -solicitors and counsel in London judged the offer a fair one at -least." - -"And so do I," said Sir Philip Hastings, emphatically; "however, I -must speak with Mrs. Hazleton upon the subject, and express my opinion -to her. Pray, have you the papers regarding your claim with you?" - -"I have attested copies," replied Mr. Marlow, "and I can bring them to -you in a moment. They are so unusually clear, and seem to put the -matter so completely beyond all doubt, that I brought them down to -satisfy Mrs. Hazleton and her solicitor, without farther trouble, that -my demand at least had some foundation in justice." - -The papers were immediately brought, and sitting down deliberately, -Sir Philip Hastings went through them with his young friend, carefully -weighing every word. They left not even a doubt on his mind; they -seemed not to leave a chance even for the chicanery of the law, they -were clear, precise, and definite. And the generosity of the young -man's offer stood out even more conspicuously than before. - -"For my part, I am completely satisfied," said Sir Philip Hastings, -when he had done the examination, "and I have no doubt that Mrs. -Hazleton will be so likewise. She is an excellent and amiable person, -as well as a very beautiful woman. Have you known her long? have you -seen her often?" - -"Only once, and that about a year ago," replied Mr. Marlow; "she is -indeed very beautiful as you say--for a woman of her period of life -remarkably so; she puts me very much in mind of my mother, whom I in -the confidence of youthful affection used to call 'my everlasting.' I -recollect doing so only three days before the hand of death wrote upon -her brow the vanity of all such earthly thoughts." - -Sir Philip Hastings was satisfied. There was nothing like passion -there. Unobservant as he was in most things, he was more clear-sighted -in regard to matters of love, than any other affection of the human -mind. He had himself loved deeply and intensely, and he had not -forgotten it. - -It was necessary, before any thing could be concluded, to wait for -Mrs. Hazleton's rising on the following morning; and, bidding Mr. -Marlow good night with a warm grasp of the hand, Sir Philip Hastings -retired to his room and passed nearly an hour in thought, pondering -the character of his new acquaintance, recalling every trait he had -remarked, and every word he had heard. It was a very satisfactory -contemplation. He never remembered to have met with one who seemed so -entirely a being after his own heart. There might be little flaws, -little weaknesses perhaps, but the confirming power of time and -experience would, he thought, strengthen all that was good, and -counsel and example remedy all that was weak or light. - -"At all events," thought the Baronet, "his conduct on this occasion -shows a noble and equitable spirit. We shall see how Mrs. Hazleton -meets it to-morrow." - -When that morrow came, he had to see the reverse of the picture, but -it must be reserved for another chapter. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -Mrs. Hazleton was up in the morning early. She was at all times an -early riser, for she well knew what a special conservator of beauty is -the morning dew, but on this occasion certain feelings of impatience -made her a little earlier than usual. Besides, she knew that Sir -Philip Hastings was always a matutinal man, and would certainly be in -the library before she was down. Nor was she disappointed. There she -found the Baronet reaching up his hand to take down Livy, after having -just replaced Tacitus. - -"It is a most extraordinary thing, my dear madam," said Sir Philip, -after the salutation of the morning, "and puzzles me more than I can -explain." - -Mrs. Hazleton fancied that her friend had discovered some very knotty -point in the case with Mr. Marlow, and she rejoiced, for her object -was not, to emulate but to entangle. Sir Philip, however, went on to -put her out of all patience by saying, "How the Romans, so sublimely -virtuous at one period of their history, could fall into so debased -and corrupt a state as we find described even by Sallust, and depicted -in more frightful colors still by the latter historians of the -empire." - -Mrs. Hazleton, as I have said, was out of all patience, and ladies in -that state sometimes have recourse to homely illustration. "Their -virtue got addled, I suppose," she replied, "by too long keeping. -Virtue is an egg that won't bear sitting upon--but now do tell me, Sir -Philip, had you any conversation with Mr. Marlow last night upon this -troublesome affair of mine?" - -"I had, my dear madam," replied Sir Philip, with a very faint smile, -for Sir Philip could not well bear any jesting on the Romans. "I did -not only converse with Mr. Marlow on the subject, but I examined -carefully the papers he brought down with him, and perceived at once -that you have not the shadow of a title to the property in question." - -Mrs. Hazleton's brow grew dark, and she replied in a somewhat sullen -tone, "You decided against me very rapidly, Sir Philip. I hope you did -not let Mr. Marlow see your strong prepossession--opinion I mean to -say--in his favor." - -"Entirely," replied Sir Philip Hastings. - -Mrs. Hazleton was silent, and gazed down upon the carpet as if she -were counting the threads of which it was composed, and finding the -calculation by no means satisfactory. - -Sir Philip let her gaze on for some time, for he was not very easily -moved to compassion in cases where he saw dishonesty of purpose as -well as suffering. At length, however, he said, "My judgment is not -binding upon you in the least; I tell you simply, my dear madam, what -is my conclusion, and the law will tell you the same." - -"We shall see," muttered Mrs. Hazleton between her teeth; but then -putting on a softer air she asked, "Tell me, Sir Philip, would you, if -you were in my situation, tamely give up a property which was honestly -bought and paid for, without making one struggle to retain it?" - -"The moment I was convinced I had no legal right to it," replied Sir -Philip. "However, the law is still open to you, if you think it better -to resist; but before you take your determination, you had better hear -what Mr. Marlow proposes, and you will pardon me for expressing to you -what I did not express to him: an opinion that his proposal is founded -upon the noblest view of equity." - -"Indeed," said Mrs. Hazleton, with her eyes brightening, "pray let me -hear this proposal." - -Sir Philip explained it to her most distinctly, expecting that she -would be both surprised and pleased, and never doubted that she would -accept it instantly. Whether she was surprised or not, did not appear, -but pleased she certainly was not to any great extent, for she did not -wish the matter to be so soon concluded. She began to make objections -immediately. "The enormous expense of building this house has not been -taken into consideration at all, and it will be very necessary to have -the original papers examined before any thing is decided. There are -two sides to every question, my dear Sir Philip, and we cannot tell -that other papers may not be found, disentailing this estate before -the sale took place." - -"This is impossible," answered Sir Philip Hastings, "if the papers -exhibited to me are genuine, for this young gentleman, on whom, as his -father's eldest son, the estate devolved by the entail, was not born -when the sale took place. By his act only could it be disentailed, and -as he was not born, he could perform no such act." - -He pressed her hard in his cold way, and it galled her sorely. - -"Perhaps they are not genuine," she said at length. - -"They are all attested," replied Sir Philip, "and he himself proposes -that the originals should be examined as the basis of the whole -transaction." - -"That is absolutely necessary," said Mrs. Hazleton, well satisfied to -put off decision even for a time. But Sir Philip would not leave her -even that advantage. - -"I think," he said; "you must at once decide whether you accept his -proposal, on condition that the examination of the papers proves the -justice of his claim to the satisfaction of those you may appoint to -examine it. If there are any doubts and difficulties to be raised -afterwards, he might as well proceed by law at once." - -"Then let him go to law," exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton with a flashing eye. -"If he do, I will defend every step to the utmost of my power." - -"Incur enormous expense, give yourself infinite pain and -mortification, and ruin a fine estate by a spirit of unnecessary and -unjust resistance," added Sir Philip, in a calm and somewhat -contemptuous tone. - -"Really, Sir Philip, you press me too hard," exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton -in a tone of angry mortification, and, sitting down to the table, she -actually wept. - -"I only press you for your own good," answered the Baronet, not at all -moved, "you are perhaps not aware that if this gentleman's claim is, -just, and you resist it, the whole costs will fall upon you. All that -could be expected of him was to submit his claim to arbitration, but -he now does more; he proposes, if arbitration pronounce it just, to -make sacrifices of his legal rights to the amount of many thousand -pounds. He is not bound to refund one penny paid for this estate, he -is entitled to back rents for a considerable number of years, and yet -he offers to repay the money, and far from demanding the back rents, -to make compensation for any loss of interest that may have been -sustained by this investment. There are few men in England, let me -tell you, who would have made such a proposal, and if you refuse it -you will never have such another." - -"Do not you think, Sir Philip," asked Mrs. Hazleton sharply, "that he -never would have made such a proposal if he had not known there was -something wrong about his title?" - -Now there was something in this question which doubly provoked Sir -Philip Hastings. He never could endure a habit which some ladies have -of recurring continually to points previously disposed of, and -covering the reiteration by merely putting objections in a new form. -Now the question as to the validity of Mr. Marlow's title, he looked -upon as entirely disposed of by the proposal of investigation and -arbitration. But there was something more than this; the very question -which the lady put showed an incapacity for conceiving any generous -motive, which thoroughly disgusted him, and, turning with a quiet step -to the window, he looked down upon the lawn which spread far away -between two ranges of tall fine wood, glowing in the yellow sunshine -of a dewy autumnal morning. It was the most favorable thing he could -have done for Mrs. Hazleton. Even the finest and the strongest and the -stoutest minds are more frequently affected unconsciously by external -things than any one is aware of. The sweet influences or the -irritating effects of fine or bad weather, of beautiful or tame -scenery, of small cares and petty disappointments, of pleasant -associations or unpleasant memories, nay of a thousand accidental -circumstances, and even fancies themselves, will affect considerations -totally distinct and apart, as the blue or yellow panes of a stained -glass window cast a melancholy hue or a yellow splendor upon the -statue and carvings of the cold gray stone. - -As Sir Philip gazed forth upon the fair scene before his eyes, and -thought what a lovely spot it was, how calm, how peaceful, how -refreshing in its influence, he said to himself, "No wonder she is -unwilling to part with it." - -Then again, there was a hare gambolling upon the lawn, at a distance -of about a hundred yards from the house, now scampering along and -beating up the dew from the morning grass, now crouched nearly flat so -as hardly to be seen among the tall green blades, then hopping quietly -along with an awkward, shuffling gait, or sitting up on its hind legs, -with raised ears, listening to some distant sound; but still as it -resumed its gambols, again going round and round, tracing upon the -green sward a labyrinth of meandering lines. Sir Philip watched it for -several moments with a faint smile, and then said to himself, "It is -the beast's nature--why not a woman's?" - -Turning himself round he saw Mrs. Hazleton, sitting at the table with -her head leaning in a melancholy attitude upon her hand, and he -replied to her last words, though he had before fully made up his mind -to give them no answer whatever. - -"The question in regard to title, my dear madam," he said, "is one -which is to be decided by others. Employ a competent person, and he -will insure, by full investigation, that your rights are maintained -entire. Your acceptance of Mr. Marlow's proposals contingent on the -full recognition of his claim, will be far from prejudicing your case, -should any flaw in your title be discovered. On the contrary, should -the decision of a point Of law be required, it will put you well with -the court. By frankly doing so, you also meet him in the same spirit -in which I am sure he comes to you; and as I am certain he has a very -high sense of equity, I think he will be well inclined to enter into -any arrangement which may be for your convenience. From what he has -said himself, I do not believe he can afford to keep such an -establishment as is necessary for this house, and if you cling to it, -as you may well do, doubtless it may remain your habitation as long as -you please at a very moderate rent. Every other particular I think may -be settled in the same manner, if you will but show a spirit of -conciliation, and--" - -"I am sure I have done that," said Mrs. Hazleton, interrupting him. -"However, Sir Philip, I will leave it all to you. You must act for me -in this business. If you think it right, I will accept the proposal -conditionally as you mention, and the title can be examined fully -whenever we can fix upon the time and the person. All this is very -hard upon me, I do think; but I suppose I must submit with a good -grace." - -"It is certainly the best plan," replied Sir Philip; and while Mrs. -Hazleton retired to efface the traces of tears from her eyelids, the -Baronet walked into the drawing-room, where he was soon after joined -by Mr. Marlow. He merely told him, however, that he had conversed with -the lady of the house, and that she would give him her answer in -person. Now, whatever were Mrs. Hazleton's wishes or intentions, she -certainly was not well satisfied with the precise and rapid manner in -which Sir Philip brought matters of business to an end. His last -words, however, had afforded her a glimmering prospect of somewhat -lengthy and frequent communication between herself and Mr. Marlow, and -one thing is certain, that she did not at all desire the transaction -between them to be concluded too briefly. At the same time, it was not -her object to appear otherwise than in the most favorable light to his -eyes; and consequently, when she entered the drawing-room she held out -her hand to him with a gracious though somewhat melancholy smile, -saying, "I have had a long conversation with Sir Philip this morning, -Mr. Marlow, concerning the very painful business which brought you -here. I agree at once to your proposal in regard to the arbitration -and the rest;" and she then went on to speak of the whole business as -if she had made not the slightest resistance whatever, but had been -struck at once by the liberality of his proposals, and by the sense of -equity which they displayed. Sir Philip took little notice of all -this; for he had fallen into one of his fits of musing, and Mr. Marlow -had quitted the room to bring some of the papers for the purpose of -showing them to Mrs. Hazleton, before the Baronet awoke out of his -reverie. The younger gentleman returned a moment after, and he and Sir -Philip and Mrs. Hazleton were busily looking at a long list of -certificates of births, deaths and marriages, when the door opened, -and Mr. Shanks, the attorney, entered the room, booted, spurred, and -dusty as if from a long ride. He was a man to whom Sir Philip had a -great objection; but he said nothing, and the attorney with a tripping -step advanced towards Mrs. Hazleton. - -The lady looked confused and annoyed, and in a hasty manner put back -the papers into Mr. Marlow's hand. But Mr. Shanks was one of the keen -and observing men of the world. He saw every thing about him as if he -had been one of those insects which have I do not know how many -thousand pair of lenses in each eye. He had no scruples or hesitation -either; he was all sight and all remark, and a lady of any kind was -not at all the person to inspire him with reverence. - -He was, in short, all law, and loved nothing, respected nothing, but -law. - -"Dear me, Mrs. Hazleton," he exclaimed, "I did not expect to find you -so engaged. These seem to be law papers--very dangerous, indeed, -madam, for unprofessional persons to meddle with such things. Permit -me to look at them;" and he held out his hand towards Mr. Marlow, as -if expecting to receive the papers without a word of remonstrance. But -Mr. Marlow held them back, saying, in a very calm, civil tone, "Excuse -me, sir! We are conversing over the matter in a friendly manner; and I -shall show them to a lawyer only at Mrs. Hazleton's request." - -"Very improper--that is, I mean to say very unprofessional!" exclaimed -Mr. Shanks, "and let me say very hazardous too," rejoined the lawyer -abruptly; but Mrs. Hazleton herself interposed, saying in a marked -tone and with an air of dignity which did not always characterize her -demeanor towards her "right hand man," as she was accustomed sometimes -to designate Mr. Shanks, "We do not desire any interference at this -moment, my good sir. I appointed you at twelve o'clock. It is not yet -nine." - -"O I can see, I can see," replied Mr. Shanks, while Sir Philip -Hastings advanced a step or two, "his worship here never was a friend -of mine, and has no objection to take a job or two out of my hands at -any time." - -"We have nothing to do with jobs, sir," said Sir Philip Hastings, in -his usual dry tone, "but at all events we do not wish you to make a -job where there is none." - -"I must take the liberty, however, of warning that lady, sir," said -Mr. Shanks, with the pertinacity of a parrot, which he so greatly -resembled, "as her legal adviser, sir, that if----" - -"That if she sends for an attorney, she wants him at the time she -appoints," interposed Sir Philip; "that was what you were about to -say, I suppose." - -"Not at all, sir, not at all," exclaimed the lawyer; for very shrewd -and very oily lawyers will occasionally forget their caution and their -coolness when they see the prospect of a loss of fees before them. "I -was going to say no such thing. I was going to warn her not to meddle -with matters of business of which she can understand nothing, by the -advice of those who know less, and who may have jobs of their own to -settle while they are meddling with hers." - -"And I warn you to quit this room, sir," said Sir Philip Hastings, a -bright spot coming into his usually pale cheek; "the lady has already -expressed her opinion upon your intrusion, and depend upon it, I will -enforce mine." - -"I shall do no such thing, sir, till I have fully----" - -He said no more, for before he could conclude the sentence, the hand -of Sir Philip Hastings was upon his collar with the grasp of a giant, -and although he was a tall and somewhat powerful man, the Baronet -dragged him to the door in despite of his half-choking struggles, as a -nurse would haul along a baby, pulled him across the stone hall, and -opening the outer door with his left hand, shot him down the steps -without any ceremony; leaving him with his hands and knees upon the -terrace. - -This done, the Baronet returned into the house again, closing the door -behind him. He then paused in the hall for an instant, reproaching -himself for certain over-quick beatings of the heart, tranquillized -his whole look and demeanor, and then returning to the drawing-room, -resumed the conversation with Mrs. Hazleton, as if nothing had ever -occurred to interrupt it. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -Mrs. Hazleton was or affected to be a good deal flustered by the event -which had just taken place, but after a number of certain graceful -attitudes, assumed without the slightest appearance of affectation, -she recovered her calmness, and proceeded with the business in hand. -That business was soon terminated, so far as the full and entire -acceptance of Mr. Marlow's proposal went, and immediately after the -conclusion of breakfast, Sir Philip Hastings ordered his horses to -depart. Mrs. Hazleton fain would have detained him, for she foresaw -that his going might be a signal for Mr. Marlow's going also, and it -was not a part of her policy to assume the matronly character so -distinctly as to invite him to remain in her house alone. Sir Philip -however was inexorable, and returned to his own dwelling, renewing his -invitation to his new acquaintance. - -Mrs. Hazleton bade him adieu, with the greatest appearance of -cordiality; but I am very much afraid, if one had possessed the power -of looking into her heart, one would have a picture very different -from that presented by her face. Sir Philip Hastings had said and done -things since he had entered her dwelling the night before, which Mrs. -Hazleton was not a woman to forget or forgive. He had thwarted her -schemes, he had mortified her vanity, he had wounded her pride; and -she was one of those women who bide their time, but have a strong -tenacity of resentments. - -When he was gone, however, she played a new game with Mr. Marlow. She -insisted upon his remaining for the day, but with a fine sense of -external proprieties, she informed him that she expected a charming -elderly lady of her acquaintance to pass a few days with her, to whom -she should particularly like to introduce him. - -This was false, be it remarked; but she immediately took measures to -make it true. Now, there is in every neighborhood more than one of -that class called good creatures. For this office, an abundant store -of real or assumed soft stupidity is required; but it is a somewhat -difficult part to play, for with this stupidity there must also be a -considerable portion of fine tact, to guard the performer against any -of those blunders into which good-natured people are continually -plunging. Drill and discipline are also necessary, in order to be -always on the look out for hints, to appreciate them properly, to -comprehend that friends may say one thing and mean another, and to ask -no questions of any kind. There were no less than three of these good -creatures in this Mrs. Hazleton's immediate neighborhood; and during a -few moments' retreat to her own little writing-room, she laid her -finger upon her fair temple, and thought them well over. Mrs. Winifred -Edgeby was the first who suggested herself to the mind of the fair -lady. She had many of the requisites. She dressed well, talked well, -and had an air of style and fashion about her; was perfectly -innocuous, and skilful in divining the purposes and wishes of a friend -or patron; but there was an occasional touch of subacrid humor about -her which Mrs. Hazleton did not half like. It gave an impression of -seeing too clearly, of perceiving much more than she pretended to -perceive. - -The second was Mrs. Warmington, a widow, not very rich, and not indeed -very refined; gay, talkative, somewhat boisterous, yet full of a sound -discretion in never committing herself or a friend. She had also much -experience, for she had been twice married, and twice a widow, and -thus had had her misfortunes. The third was a Miss Goodenough, the -most silent, quiet, stilly person in the world, moving about the house -with the step of a cat, and a face of infinite good nature to the -whole human race. She was to all appearance the pink of gentleness and -weak good nature; but her silence was invaluable. - -After some consideration Mrs. Hazleton decided upon the widow, and -instantly dispatched a note with her own carriage, begging Mrs. -Warmington to come over immediately and spend a few days with her, as -a young gentleman had arrived upon a visit, and it would be indecorous -to entertain him alone. - -Mrs. Warmington understood it all in an instant. She said to her. If, -"Ho, ho! a young gentleman come to stay--wanted a duenna! Matrimony in -the wind! Heigho! she must be six and thirty--six and thirty from two -and fifty leave sixteen points against me, and long odds. Well, -well,--I have had my share;" and Mrs. Warmington laughed aloud. -However, she would neither keep Mrs. Hazleton's carriage waiting, nor -Mrs. Hazleton herself in suspense, for there were various little -comforts and conveniences in the good will of that lady which Mrs. -Warmington was eager to cultivate. She had, too, a shrewd suspicion -that the enmity of Mrs. Hazleton might become a thing to be seriously -dreaded; and therefore, whichever side of the question she looked at, -she saw reasons for seeking the beautiful widow's good graces. Her -maid was called, her clothes packed up, and she entered the carriage -and drove away, while in the mean time Mrs. Hazleton had been -expatiating to Mr. Marlow upon all the high qualities and points of -excellence in her friend Mrs. Warmington. She was too skilful, -moreover, to bring her good taste and judgment into question with her -young friend, by raising expectations which might be disappointed. She -therefore threw in insinuations of a few faults and failings in dear -Madam Warmington's manner and demeanor. But then she said she was such -a good creature at heart, that although the very fastidious affected -to censure, she herself forgot all little blemishes in the inherent -excellence of the person. - -Moreover, upon the plea of looking at the ground which was the subject -of Mr. Marlow's claim, she led him out for a long, pleasant ramble -through the park. She took him amongst old hawthorn trees, through -groves of chestnuts by the banks of the stream, and along paths where -the warm sunshine played through the brown and yellow leaves above, -gilding their companions which had fallen earlier than themselves to -the sward below. It was a very lover-like walk indeed--one where -nature speaks to the heart, wakening sweet influences, and charming -the spirit up from hard and cold indifference. Mrs. Hazleton felt sure -that Mr. Marlow would not forget that walk, and she took care to -impress it as deeply as possible upon his memory. Nor did she want any -of the means to do so. Her mind was highly cultivated for the age in -which she lived, her taste fine, her information extensive. She could -discourse of foreign lands, of objects and scenes of deep interest, -great beauty, and rich associations,--of courts and cities far away, -of music, painting, flowers in other lands, of climates rich in -sunshine and of genial warmth; and through the whole she had the art -to throw a sort of magic glow from her own mind which brightened all -she spoke of. - -She was very charming that day, indeed, and Mr. Marlow felt the spell, -but he did not fall in love. - -Now what was the object of using all these powers upon him? Was Mrs. -Hazleton a person very susceptible, or very covetous of the tender -passion? Since her return to England she had refused some half-dozen -very eligible offers from handsome, agreeable, estimable men, and the -world in general had set her down for a person as cold as a stone. It -might be so, but there are some stones, which, when you heat them, -acquire intense fervor, and retain it longer than any other substance. -Every body in the world has his peculiarities, his whims, caprices, -crochets if you will. Mrs. Hazleton had gazed over the handsome, the -glittering and the gay, with the most perfect indifference. She had -listened to professions of love with a tranquil, easy balance power, -which weighed to a grain the advantages of matrimony and widowhood, -without suffering the dust of passion to give even a shake to the -scale. Before the preceding night she had only seen Mr. Marlow once, -but the moment she set eyes upon him--the moment she heard his voice, -she had said to herself, "If ever I marry again, that is the man." -There is no explaining these sympathetic attractions, impulses, or -whatever they may be called; but I think, from some observation of -human nature, it will be found that in those persons where they are -the least frequent, they are the most powerful and persevering when -they do exist. - -Not long after their first meeting, some intimation occurred -of a claim on the part of Mr. Marlow to a portion of the lady's -property--that portion that she loved best. The very idea of parting -with it at all, of being forced to give it up, was most painful and -distressing to her. Yet that made no difference whatever in her -feelings towards Mr. Marlow. Communications of various kinds took -place between lawyers, and the opposite counsel were as firm as a -rock. Mrs. Hazleton thought it very hard, very unjust, very wrong; but -that changed not in the least her feelings towards Mr. Marlow. Nay -more, with that delicate art of combination in which ladies are formed -to excel, she conceived and manipulated with great dexterity a scheme -for bringing herself and Mr. Marlow into frequent personal -communication, and for causing somebody to suggest to him a marriage -with her own beautiful self, as the best mode of settling the disputed -claim. - -O those fine and delicate threads of intrigue, how frail they are, and -how much depends upon every one of them, be it in the warp or the woof -of a scheme! We have seen that in this case, one of them gave way -under the rough handling of Sir Philip Hastings, and the whole fabric -was in imminent danger of running down and becoming nothing but a -raveled skein. Mrs. Hazleton was resolved that it should not be so, -and now she was busily engaged in the attempt to knot together the -broken thread, and to lay all the others straight and in right order -again. This was the secret of the whole matter. - -She exerted all her charms, and could Waller but have seen her we -should have had such an account of the artillery of her eyes, the -insidious attack of her smile, and the whole host of powerful -adversaries brought to bear against the object of her assault in her -gracefully moving form and heaving bosom, that Saccharissa would have -melted away like a wet lump of sugar in the comparison. - -Then again when she had produced an effect, and saw clear and -distinctly that he thought her lovely, and very charming too, she -seemed to fall into a pleasant sort of languid melancholy, which was -even more charming still. The brook was bubbling and murmuring at -their feet, dashing clear and bright over its stony bed, and changing -the brown rock, the water weed, or the leaf beneath, into gems by the -magic of its own brightness. The boughs were waving over head, covered -with many-colored foliage, and the sun, glancing through, not only -enriched the tints above, but checkered the mossy path along which -they wandered like a chess-board of brown and gold. Some of the late -autumn birds uttered their short sweet songs from the copse hard by, -and the musical wind came sighing up from the valley, as if nature had -furnished Eolus with a harp. It was in short quite a scene, and a -moment for a widow to make love to a young man. They were silent for -some little time, and then Mrs. Hazleton said, with her soft, sweet, -round voice, "Is not all this very charming, Mr. Marlow?" - -Her tone was quite a sad one, but not with that sort of pleasant -sadness which often mingles with our happiest moments, giving them -even a higher zest, like the flattened notes when a fine piece of -music passes gently from the major into the minor key, but really sad, -profoundly sad. - -"Very charming, indeed," replied her young companion, looking round to -her face with some surprise. - -"And what am I to do without it, when you turn me out of my house!" -said the lady, answering his glance with a melancholy smile. - -"Turn you out of your house!" exclaimed Mr. Marlow; "I hope you do not -suppose, my dear madam, that I could dream of such a thing. Oh, no! I -would not for the world deprive such a scene of its brightest -ornament. Some arrangement can be easily effected, even if my claim -should prove satisfactory to those you appoint to investigate it, by -which the neighborhood will not be deprived of the happiness of your -presence." - -Mrs. Hazleton felt that she had made a great step, and as she well -knew that there was no chance of his proposing then and there, she -resolved not to risk losing ground by any farther advance, even while -she secured some present benefits from that which was gained. "Well, -well," she said, "Mr. Marlow, I am quite sure you are very kind and -very generous, and we can talk of that matter hereafter. Only there is -one thing you must promise me, which is, that in regard to any -arrangements respecting the house you will not leave them to be -settled by cold lawyers or colder friends, who cannot enter into my -feelings in regard to this place, or your own liberal and kindly -feelings either. Let us settle it some day between ourselves," she -added, with a light laugh, "in a tête-à-tête like this. I do not -suppose you are afraid of being overreached by me in a bargain. But -now let us turn our steps back towards the house, for I expect Mrs. -Warmington early, and I must not be absent when she arrives." - -Mrs. Warmington was there already; for the tête-à-tête had lasted -longer than Mrs. Hazleton knew. However, Mrs. Hazleton's first task -was to inform her fair friend and counsellor of the cause of Mr. -Marlow's being there; her next to tell her that all had been settled -as to the claim, by that tiresome man Sir Philip Hastings, without -what she considered due deliberation, and that the only thing which -remained to be arranged was in regard to the house, respecting which -Mrs. Hazleton communicated a certain portion of her own inclinations, -and of Mr. Marlow's kind view of the matter. - -Now, strange to say, this was the turning point of fate for Mrs. -Hazleton, Mr. Marlow, and most of the persons mentioned in this -history. It was then that Mrs. Warmington suggested a scheme which she -thought would suit her friend well. - -"Why do you not offer him in exchange--for the time at all -events--your fine old house on the side of Hartwell--Hartwell Place? -It is only seven miles off. It is ready furnished to his hand, and -must be worth a great deal more than the bare walls of this. Besides -it would be pleasant to have him in the neighborhood." - -Pause, Mrs. Hazleton! pause and meditate over all the consequences; -for be assured much depends upon these few simple words. - -Mrs. Hazleton did pause--Mrs. Hazleton did meditate. She ran over in -her head the list of all the families in the neighborhood. In none of -them could she see a probable rival. There were plenty of married -women, old maids, young girls; but she saw nobody to fear, and with a -proud consciousness of her own beauty and worth; she took her -resolution. That very evening she proposed to Mr. Marlow what her -friend had suggested. It was accepted. - -Mrs. Hazleton had made one miscalculation, and her fate and Mr. -Marlow's were decided. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -Occasionally in the life of man, as in the life of the -world--History--or in the course of a stream towards the sea, come -quiet lapses, sunny and calm, reflecting nothing but the still -motionless objects around, or the blue sky and moving clouds above. -Often too we find that this tranquil expanse of silent water follows -quickly after some more rapid movement, comes close upon some spot -where a dashing rapid has diversified the scene, or a cataract, in -roar and confusion and sparkling terror, has broken the course of the -stream. - -Such a still pause, silent of action--if I may use the term--followed -the events which I have related in the last chapter, extending over a -period of nearly six months. Nothing happened worthy of any minute -detail. Peace and tranquillity dwelt in the various households which I -have noticed in the course of this story, enlivened in that of Sir -Philip Hastings by the gay spirit of Emily Hastings, although somewhat -shadowed by the sterner character of her father; and in the household -of Mrs. Hazleton brightened by the light of hope, and the fair -prospect of success in all her schemes which for a certain time -continued to open before her. - -Mr. Marlow only spent two days at her house, and then went away to -London, but whatever effect her beauty might have produced upon him, -his society, brief as it was, served but to confirm her feelings -towards him, and before he left her, she had made up her mind fully -and entirely, with her characteristic vigor and strength of -resolution, that her marriage with Mr. Marlow was an event which must -and should be. There was under this conviction, but not the less -strong, not the less energetic, not the less vehement, for being -concealed even from herself--a resolution that no sacrifice, no fear, -no hesitation at any course, should stand in the way of her purpose. -She did not anticipate many difficulties certainly; for Mr. Marlow -clearly admired her; but the resolution was, that if difficulties -should arise, she would overcome them at all cost. Hers was one of -those characters of which the world makes its tragedies, having within -itself passions too strong and deep to be frequently excited--as the -more profound waters which rise into mountains when once in motion -require a hurricane to still them--together with that energetic will, -that fixed unbending determination, which like the outburst of a -torrent from the hills, sweeps away all before it. But let it be ever -remembered that her energies were exerted upon herself as well as upon -others, not in checking passion, not in limiting desire, but in -guarding scrupulously every external appearance, guiding every thought -and act with careful art towards its destined object. Mrs. Hazleton -suffered Mr. Marlow to be in London more than a month before she -followed to conclude the mere matters of business between them. It -cost her a great struggle with herself, but in that struggle she was -successful, and when at length she went, she had several interviews -with him. Circumstances--that great enemy of schemes, was against her. -Sometimes lawyers were present at their interviews, sometimes -impertinent friends; but Mrs. Hazleton did not much care: she trusted -to the time he was speedily about to pass in the country, for the full -effect, and in the mean time took care that nothing but the golden -side of the shield should be presented to her knight. - -The continent was at that time open to Englishmen for a short period, -and Mr. Marlow expressed his determination of going to the Court of -Versailles for a month or six weeks before he came down to take -possession of Hartwell place, everything now having been settled -between them in regard to business. - -Mrs. Hazleton did not like his determination, yet she did not much -fear the result; for Mr. Marlow was preeminently English, and never -likely to wed a French woman. Still she resolved that he should see -her under another aspect before he went. She was a great favorite of -the Court of those days; her station, her wealth, her beauty, and her -grace rendered her a brightness and an ornament wherever she came. She -was invited to one of the more private though not less splendid -assemblies at the Palace, and she contrived that Mr. Marlow should be -invited also, though neither by nature or habit a courtier. She -obtained the invitation for him skilfully, saying to the Royal -Personage of whom she asked it, that as he won a lawsuit against her, -she wished to show him that she bore no malice. He went, and found her -the brightest in the brilliant scene; the great and the proud, the -handsome and the gay, all bending down and worshipping, all striving. -for a smile, and obtaining it but scantily. She smiled upon him, -however, not sufficiently to attract remark from others, but quite -sufficiently to mark a strong distinction for his own eyes, if he had -chosen to use them. He went away to France, and Mrs. Hazleton, -returned to the country; the winter passed with her in arranging his -house for him; and, in so doing, she often had to write to him. His -replies were always prompt, kind, and grateful; and at length came the -spring, and the pleasant tidings that he was on his way back to his -beloved England. - -Alas for human expectation! Alas for the gay day-dream of -youth--maturity--middle age--old age--for they have all their -day-dreams! Every passion which besets man from the cradle to the -grave has its own visionary expectations. Each creature, each animal, -from the tiger to the beetle, has its besetting insect, which preys -upon it, gnaws it, irritates it, and so have all the ages of the soul -and of the heart. Alas for human speculation of all kinds! Alas for -every hope and aspiration! for those that are pure and high, but, -growing out of earth, bear within themselves the bitter seeds of -disappointment; and those that are dark or low produce the germ of -the most poisonous hybrid, where disappointment is united with -remorse. - -Happy is the man that expecteth nothing, for verily he shall not be -disappointed! It is a quaint old saying; and could philosophy ever -stem the course of God's will, it would be one which, well followed, -might secure to man some greater portion of mortal peace than he -possesses. But to aspire was the ordinance of God; and, viewed -rightly, the withering of the flowers upon each footstep we have taken -upwards, is no discouragement; for if we shape our path aright, there -is a wreath of bright blossoms crowning each craggy peak before us, as -we ascend to snatch the garland of immortal glory, placed just beyond -the last awful leap of death. - -Mrs. Hazleton's aspirations, however, were all earthly. She thought of -little beyond this life. She had never been taught so to think. There -are some who are led astray from the path of noble daring, to others -as difficult and more intricate, by some loud shout of passion on the -right or on the left--and seek in vain to return; some who, misled by -an apparent similarity in the course of two paths, although the finger -post says, "Thus shalt thou go!" think that the way so plainly beaten, -and so seemingly easy, must surely lead them to the same point. Others -again never learn to read the right path from the wrong (and she was -one), while others shut their eyes to all direction, fix their gaze -upon the summit, and strain up, now amidst flowers and now amidst -thorns, till they are cast back from the face of some steep precipice, -to perish in the descent or at the foot. - -Mrs. Hazleton's aspirations were all earthly; and that was the secret -of her only want in beauty. That divine form, that resplendent face, -beamed with every earthly grace, sparkled forth mind and intellect in -every glance, but they were wanting in soul, in spirit, and in heart. -Life was there, but the life of life, the intense flame of immortal, -over-earthly intelligence, was wanting. She might be the grandest -animal that ever was seen, the most bright and capable intellect that -ever dealt with mortal things; but the fine golden chain which leads -on the electric fire from intellectual eminence to spiritual -preeminence, from mind to soul, from earth to heaven, was wanting, or -had been broken. Her loveliness none could doubt, her charm of manner -none could deny, her intellectual superiority all admitted, her -womanly softness added a grace beyond them all; but there was one -grace wanting--the grace of a high, holy soul, which, in those who -have it, be they fair, be they ugly, pours forth as an emanation from -every look and every action, and surrounds them with a cloud of -radiance, faintly imaged by the artist's glory round a saint. - -Alas for human aspirations! Alas for the expectations of this fair -frail creature! How eagerly she thought of Mr. Marlow's return how she -had anticipated their meeting again! How she had calculated upon all -that would be said and done during the next few weeks! The first news -she received was that he had arrived, and with a few servants had -taken possession of his new dwelling. She remained all day in her own -house; she ordered no carriage; she took no walk: she tried to read; -she played upon various instruments of music; she thought each instant -he would come, at least for a few minutes, to thank her for all the -care she had bestowed to make his habitation comfortable. The sun -gilded the west; the melancholy moon rose up in solemn splendor; the -hours passed by, and he came not. - -The next morning, she heard that he had ridden over to the house of -Sir Philip Hastings, and indignation warred with love in her bosom. -She thought he must certainly come that day, and she resolved angrily -to upbraid him for his want of courtesy. Luckily, however, for her, he -did not come that day; and a sort of melancholy took possession of -her. Luckily, I say; for when passion takes hold of a scheme it is -generally sure to shake it to pieces, and that melancholy loosens the -grasp of passion for a time. The next day he did come, and with an air -so easy and unconscious of offence as almost to provoke her into -vehemence again. He knew not what she felt--he had no idea of how he -had been looked for. He was as ignorant that she had ever thought of -him as a husband, as she was that he had ever compared her in his mind -to his own mother. - -He talked quietly, indifferently, of his having been over to the house -of Sir Philip Hastings, adding merely--not as an excuse, but as a -simple fact--that he had been unable to call there as he had promised -before leaving the country. He dilated upon the kind reception he had -met with from Lady Hastings, for Sir Philip was absent upon business; -and he went on to dwell rather largely upon the exceeding beauty and -great grace of Emily Hastings. - -Oh how Mrs. Hazleton hated her! It requires but a few drops of poison -to envenom a whole well. - -He did worse: he proceeded to descant upon her character--upon the -blended brightness and deep thought--upon the high-souled emotions and -childlike sparkle of her disposition--upon the simplicity and -complexity, upon the many-sided splendor of her character, which, like -the cut diamond, reflected each ray of light in a thousand varied and -dazzling hues. Oh how Mrs. Hazleton hated her--hated, because for the -first time she began to fear. He had spoken to her in praise of -another woman--with loud encomiums too, with a brightened eye, and a -look which told her more than his words. These were signs not to be -mistaken. They did not show in the least that he loved Emily Hastings, -and that she knew right well; but they showed that he did not love -her; and there was the poison in the cup. - -So painful, so terrible was the sensation, that, with all her mastery -over herself, she could not conceal the agony under which she writhed. -She became silent, grave, fell into fits of thought, which clouded the -broad brow, and made the fine-cut lip quiver. Mr. Marlow was surprised -and grieved. He asked himself what could be the matter. Something had -evidently made her sorrowful, and he could not trace the sorrow to its -source; for she carefully avoided uttering one word in depreciation of -Emily Hastings. In this she showed no woman's spirit. She could have -stabbed her, had the girl been there in her presence; but she would -not scratch her. Petty spite was too low for her, too small for the -character of her mind. Hers was a heart capable of revenge, and would -be satisfied with nothing less. - -Mr. Marlow soothed her, spoke to her kindly, tenderly, tried to lead -her mind away, to amuse, to entertain her. Oh, it was all gall and -bitterness to her. He might have cursed, abused, insulted her, -without, perhaps, diminishing her love--certainly without inflicting -half the anguish that was caused by his gentle words. It is impossible -to tell all the varied emotions that went on in her heart--at least -for me. Shakspeare could have done it, but none less than Shakspeare. -For a moment she knew not whether she loved or hated him; but she soon -felt and knew it was love; and the hate, like lightning striking a -rock, and glancing from the solid stone to rend a sapling, all turned -away from him, to fall upon the head of poor unconscious Emily -Hastings. - -Though she could not recover from the blow she had received, yet she -soon regained command over herself, conversed, smiled, banished -absorbing thoughts, answered calmly, pertinently, even spoke in her -own bright, brilliant way, with a few more figures and ornaments of -speech than usual; for figures are things rather of the head than of -the heart, and it was from the head that she was now speaking. - -At length Mr. Marlow took his leave, and for the first time in life -she was glad he was gone. - -Mrs. Hazleton gave way to no burst of passion: she shed not a tear; -she uttered no exclamation. That which was within her heart, was too -intense for any such ordinary expression. She seated herself at a -table, leaned her head upon her hand, and fixed her eyes upon one -bright spot in the marquetry. There she sat for more than an entire -hour, without a motion, and in the meantime what were the thoughts -that passed through her brain? We have shown the feelings of her heart -enough. - -She formed plans; she determined her course; she looked around for -means. Various persons suggested themselves to her mind as -instruments. The three women, I have mentioned in a preceding -chapter--the good sort of friends. But it was an agent she wanted, not -a confidant. No, no, Mrs. Hazleton knew better than to have a -confidant. She was her own best council-keeper, and she knew it. -Nevertheless, these good ladies might serve to act in subordinate -parts, and she assigned to each of them their position in her scheme -with wonderful accuracy and skill. As she did so, however, she -remembered that it was by the advice of Mrs. Warmington that she had -brought Mr. Marlow to Hartwell Place; and in her heart's secret -chamber she gave her fair friend a goodly benediction. She resolved to -use her nevertheless--to use her as far as she could be serviceable; -and she forgot not that she herself had been art and part in the -scheme that had failed. She was not one to shelter herself from blame -by casting the whole storm of disappointment upon another, She took -her own full share. "If she was a fool so to advise," said Mrs. -Hazleton, "'twas a greater fool to follow her advice." - -She then turned to seek for the agent. No name presented itself but -that of Shanks, the attorney; and she smiled bitterly when she thought -of him. She recollected that Sir Philip Hastings had thrown him -head-foremost down the steps of the terrace, and that was very -satisfactory to her; for, although Mr. Shanks was a man who sometimes -bore injuries very meekly, he never forgot them. - -Nevertheless, she had somewhat a difficult part to play, for most -agents have a desire of becoming confidants also, and that Mrs. -Hazleton determined her attorney should not be. The task was to -insinuate her purposes rather than to speak them--to act, without -betraying the motive of action--to make another act, without -committing herself by giving directions. - -Nevertheless, Mrs. Hazleton arranged it all to her own satisfaction; -and as she did so, amongst the apparently extinct ashes of former -schemes, one small spark of hope began to glow, giving promise for the -time to come. What did she propose? At first, nothing more than to -drive Sir Philip Hastings and his family from the country, mingling -the gratification of personal hatred with efforts for the -accomplishment of her own purposes. It was a bold attempt, but Mrs. -Hazleton had her plan, and she sat down and wrote for Mr. Shanks, the -attorney. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -Decorum came in with the house of Hanover. I know not whether men and -women in England were more virtuous before--I think not--but they -certainly were more frank in both their virtues and their vices. There -were fewer of those vices of conventionality thrown around the human -heart--fewer I mean to say of those cold restraints, those gilded -chains of society, which, like the ornaments that ladies wear upon -their necks and arms, seem like fetters; but, I fear me, restrain but -little human action, curb not passion, and are to the strong will but -as the green rushes round the limbs of the Hebrew giant. Decorum came -into England with the house of Hanover; but I am speaking of a period -before that, when ladies were less fearful of the tongue of scandal, -when scandal itself was fearful of assailing virtue, when honesty of -purpose and purity of heart could walk free in the broad day, and men -did not venture to suppose evil acts perpetrated whenever, by a -possibility, they could be committed. - -Emily Hastings walked quietly along by the side of Mr. Marlow, through -her father's park. There was no one with him, no keen matron's ear to -listen to and weigh their words, no brother to pretend to accompany -them, and either feel himself weary with the task or lighten it by -seeking his own amusement apart. They were alone together, and they -talked without restraint. Ye gods, how they did talk! The dear girl -was in one of her brightest, gayest moods. There was nothing that did -not move her fancy or become a servant to it. The clouds as they shot -across the sky, the blue fixed hills in the distance, the red and -yellow and green coloring of the young budding oaks, the dancing of -the stream, the song of the bird, the whisper of the wind, the misty -spring light which spread over the morning distance, all had -illustrations for her thoughts. It seemed that day as if she could not -speak without a figure--as if she revelled in the flowers of -imagination, like a child tossing about the new mown grass in a -hay-field. And he, with joyous sport, took pleasure in furnishing her -at every moment with new material for the bounding joy of fancy. - -They had not known each other long; but there was something in the -young man's manner--nay, let me go farther--in his character, which -invited confidence, which besought the hearts around to throw off all -strange disguise, and promised that he would take no base advantage of -their openness. That something was perhaps his earnestness: one felt -that he was true in all he said or did or looked: that his words were -but his spoken feelings: his countenance a paper on which the heart at -once recorded its sensations. But let me not be mistaken. Do not let -it be supposed that when I say he was earnest, I mean that he was even -grave. Oh no! Earnestness can exist as well in the merriest as in the -soberest heart. One can be as earnest, as truthful, even as eager in -joy or sport, as in sorrow or sternness. But he was earnest in all -things, and it was this earnestness which probably found a way for him -to so many dissimilar hearts. - -Emily knew not at all what it was doing with hers; but she felt that -he was one before whom she had no need to hide a thought: that if she -were gay, she might be gay in safety: that if she were inclined to -muse, she might muse on in peace. - -Onward they walked, talking of every thing on earth but love. It was -in the thoughts of neither. Emily knew nothing about it: the tranquil -expanse of life had never for her been even rippled by the wing of -passion. Marlow might know more; but for the time he was lost in the -enjoyment of the moment. The little enemy might be carrying on the war -against the fortress of each unconscious bosom; but if so, it was by -the silent sap and mine, more potent far than the fierce assault or -thundering cannonade--at least in this sort of warfare. - -They were wending their way towards a gate, at the very extreme limit -of the park, which opened upon a path leading by a much shorter way to -Mr. Marlow's own dwelling than the road he usually pursued. He had -that morning come to spend but an hour at the house of Sir Philip -Hastings, and he had an engagement at his own house at noon. He had -spent two hours instead of one with Emily and her mother, and -therefore short paths were preferable to long ones for his purpose. -Emily had offered to show him the way to the gate, and her company was -sure to shorten the road, though it might lengthen the time it took to -travel. - -Now in describing the park of Sir Philip Hastings, I have said that -there was a wide open space around the mansion; but I have also said, -that at some distance the trees gathered thick and sombre. Those -nearest the house gathered together in clumps, confusing the eye in a -wilderness of hawthorns, and bushes, and evergreen oaks, while beyond -appeared a dense mass of wood; and, through the scattered tufts of -trees and thick woodland at the extreme of the park ran several paths -traced by deer, and park-keepers, and country folk. Thus for various -reasons some guidance was needful to Marlow on his way, and for more -reasons still he was well pleased that the guide should be Emily -Hastings. In the course of their walk, amongst many other subjects -they spoke of Mrs. Hazleton, and Marlow expatiated warmly on her -beauty, and grace, and kindness of heart. How different was the effect -of all this upon Emily Hastings from that which his words in her -praise had produced upon her of whom he spoke! Emily's heart was free. -Emily had no schemes, no plans, no purposes. She knew not that there -was one feeling in her bosom with which praise of Mrs. Hazleton could -ever jar. She loved her well. Such eyes as hers are not practised in -seeing into darkness. She had divined the Italian singer--perhaps by -instinct, perhaps by some distinct trait, which occasionally will -betray the most wily. But Mrs. Hazleton was a fellow-woman--a woman of -great brightness and many fine qualities. Neither had she any -superficial defects to indicate a baser metal or a harder within. If -she was not all gold, she was doubly gilt. - -Emily praised her too, warmed with the theme; and eagerly exclaimed, -"She always seems to me like one of those dames of fairy tales, upon -whom some enchanter has bestowed a charm that no one can resist. It is -not her beauty; for I feel the same when I hear her voice and shut my -eyes. It is not her conversation; for I feel the same when I look at -her and she is silent. It seems to breathe from her presence like the -odor of a flower. It is the same when she is grave as when she is -gay." - -"Aye, and when she is melancholy," replied Marlow. "I never felt it -more powerfully than a few days ago when I spent an hour with her, and -she was not only grave but sad." - -"Melancholy!" exclaimed Emily. "I never saw her so. Grave I have seen -her--thoughtful, silent--but never sad; and I do not know that she has -not seemed more charming to me in those grave, stiller moods, than in -more cheerful ones. Do you know that in looking at the beautiful -statues which I have seen in London, I have often thought they might -lose half their charm if they would move and speak? Thus, too, with -Mrs. Hazleton; she seems to me even more lovely, more full of grace, -in perfect stillness than at any other time. My father," she added, -after a moment's pause, "is the only one who in her presence seems -spell-proof." - -Her words threw Marlow into a momentary fit of thought. "Why," he -asked himself, "was Sir Philip Hastings spell-proof when all others -were charmed?" - -Men have a habit of depending much upon men's judgment, whether justly -or unjustly I will not stop to inquire. They rely less upon woman's -judgment in such matters; and yet women are amongst the keenest -discerners--when they are unbiassed by passion. But are they often so? -Perhaps it is from a conviction that men judge less frequently from -impulse, decide more generally from cause, that this presumption of -their accuracy exists. Woman--perhaps from seclusion, perhaps from -nature--is more a creature of instincts than man, They are given her -for defence where reason would act too slowly; and where they do act -strongly, they are almost invariably right. Man goes through the -slower process, and naturally relies more firmly on the result; for -reason demonstrates where instinct leads blindfold. Marlow judged Sir -Philip Hastings by himself, and fancied that he must have some cause -for being spell-proof against the fascinations of Mrs. Hazleton. This -roused the first doubt in his mind as to her being all that she -seemed. He repelled the doubt as injurious, but it returned from time -to time in after days, and at length gave him a clue to an intricate -labyrinth. - -The walk came to an end, too soon he thought. Emily pointed out the -gate as soon as it appeared in sight, shook hands with him and -returned homeward. He thought more of her after they had parted, than -when she was with him. There are times when the most thoughtful do not -think--when they enjoy. But now, every word, every look of her who -had just left him, came back to memory. Not that he would admit to -himself that there was the least touch of love in his feelings. Oh -no! He had known her too short a time for such a serious passion as -love to have any thing to do with his sensations. He only thought of -her--mused--pondered--recalled all she had said and done, because she -was so unlike any thing he had seen or heard of before--a something -new--a something to be studied. - -She was but a girl--a mere child, he said; and yet there was something -more than childish grace in that light, but rounded form, where beauty -was more than budding, but not quite blossomed, like a moss-rose in -its loveliest state of loveliness. And her mind too; there was nothing -childish in her thoughts except their playfulness. The morning -dew-drops had not yet exhaled; but the day-star of the mind was well -up in the sky. - -She was one of those, on whom it is dangerous for a man afraid of love -to meditate too long. She was one the effect of whose looks and words -is not evanescent. That of mere beauty passes away. How many a face do -we see and think it the loveliest in the world; yet shut the eyes an -hour after, and try to recall the features--to paint them to the -mind's eye. You cannot. But there are others that link themselves with -every feeling of the heart, that twine themselves with constantly -recurring thoughts, that never can be effaced--never forgotten--on -which age or time, disease or death, may do its work without effecting -one change in the reality embalmed in memory. Destroy the die, break -the mould, you may; but the medal and the cast remain. Had Marlow -lived a hundred years--had he never seen Emily Hastings again, not one -line of her bright face, not one speaking look, would have passed from -his memory. He could have painted a portrait of her had he been an -artist. Did you ever gaze long at the sun, trying your eyes against -the eagle's? If so, you have had the bright orb floating before your -eyes the whole day after. And so it was with Marlow: throughout the -long hours that followed, he had Emily Hastings ever before him. But -yet he did not love her. Oh dear no, not in the least. Love he thought -was very different from mere admiration. It was a plant of slower -growth. He was no believer in love at first sight. He was an infidel -as to Romeo and Juliet, and he had firmly resolved if ever he did fall -in love, it should be done cautiously. - -Poor man! he little knew how deep he was in already. - -In the meanwhile, Emily walked onward. She was heart-whole at least. -She had never dreamed of love. It had not been one of her studies. Her -father had never presented the idea to her. Her mother had often -talked of marriage, and marriages good and bad; but always put them in -the light of alliances--compacts--negotiated treaties. Although Lady -Hastings knew what love is as well as any one, and had felt it as -deeply, yet she did not wish her daughter to be as romantic as she had -been, and therefore the subject was avoided. Emily thought a good deal -of Mr. Marlow, it is true. She thought him handsome, graceful, -winning--one of the pleasantest companions she had ever known. She -liked him better than any one she had ever seen; and his words rang in -her ears long after they were spoken. But even imagination, wicked -spinner of golden threads as she is, never drew one link between his -fate and hers. The time had not yet come, if it was to come. - -She walked on, however, through the wood; and just when she was -emerging from the thicker part into the clumps and scattered trees, -she saw a stranger before her, leaning against the stump of an old -hawthorn, and seeming to suffer pain. He was young, handsome, -well-dressed, and there was a gun lying at his feet. But as Emily drew -nearer, she saw blood slowly trickling from his arm, and falling on -the gray sand of the path. - -She was not one to suffer shyness to curb humanity; and she exclaimed -at once, with a look of alarm, "I am afraid you are hurt, sir. Had you -not better come up to the house?" - -The young man looked at her, fainted, and answered in a low tone, "The -gun has gone off, caught by a branch, and has shattered my arm. I -thought I could reach the cottage by the park gates, but I feel -faint." - -"Stay, stay a moment," cried Emily, "I will run to the hall and bring -assistance--people to assist you upon a carriage." - -"No, no!" answered the stranger quickly, "I cannot go there--I will -not go there! The cottage is nearer," he continued more calmly. "I -think with a little help I could reach it, if I could staunch the -blood. - -"Let me try," exclaimed Emily; and with ready zeal, she tied her -handkerchief round his arm, not without a shaking hand indeed, but -with firmness and some skill. - -"Now lean upon me," she said, when she had done; "the cottage is -indeed nearer, but you would have better tendance if you could reach -the hall." - -"No, no, the cottage," replied the stranger, "I shall do well there." - -The cottage was perhaps two hundred yards nearer to the spot on which -they stood than the hall; but there was an eagerness about the young -man's refusal to go to the latter, which Emily remarked. Suspicion -indeed was alive to her mind; but those were days when laws concerning -game, which have very year been becoming less and less strict, were -hardly less severe than in the time of William Rufus. Every day, in -the country life which she led, she heard some tale of poaching or its -punishment. The stranger had a gun with him; she had found him in her -father's park; he was unwilling even in suffering and need of help to -go up to the hall for succor; and she could not but fancy that for -some frolic, perhaps some jest, or some wild whim, he had been -trespassing upon the manor in pursuit of game. That he was an ordinary -poacher she could not suppose; his dress, his appearance forbade such -a supposition. - -But there was something more. - -In the young man's face--more in its expression than its features -perhaps--more in certain marking lines and sudden glances than in the -general whole--there was something familiar to her--something that -seemed akin to her. He was handsomer than her father; of a more -perfect though less lofty character of beauty; and yet there was a -strange likeness, not constant, but flashing occasionally upon her -brow, in what, when, she could hardly determine. - -It roused another sort of sympathy from any she had felt before; and -once more she asked him to go up to the hall. - -"If you have been taking your sport," she said, "where perhaps you -ought not, I am sure my father will look over it without a word, when -he sees how you are hurt. Although people sometimes think he is stern -and severe, that is all a mistake. He is kind and gentle, I assure -you, when he does not feel that duty requires him to be rigid." - -The stranger gave a quick start, and replied in a tone which would -have been haughty and fierce, had not weakness subdued it, "I have -been shooting only where I have a right to shoot. But I will not go up -to the hall, till--but I dare say I can get down to the cottage -without help, Mistress Emily. I have been accustomed to do without -help in the world;" and he withdrew his arm from that which supported -him. The next moment, however, he tottered, and seemed ready to fall, -and Emily again hurried to help him. There were no more words spoken. -She thought his manner somewhat uncivil; she would not leave him, and -the necessity for her kindness was soon apparent. Ere they were within -a hundred yards of the cottage, he sunk slowly down. His face grew -pale and death-like, and his eyes closed faintly as he lay upon the -turf. Emily ran on like lightning to the cottage, and called out the -old man who lived there. The old man called his son from the little -garden, and with his and other help, carried the fainting man in. - -"Ay, master John, master John," exclaimed the old cottager, as he laid -him in his own bed; "one of your wild pranks, I warrant!" - -His wife, his son, and he himself tended the young man with care; and -a young boy was sent off for a surgeon. - -Emily did not know what to do; but compassion kept her in the cottage -till the stranger recovered his consciousness, and then after -inquiring how he felt, she was about to withdraw, intending to send -down further aid from the hall. But the stranger beckoned her faintly -to come nearer, and said in tones of real gratitude, "Thank you a -thousand times, Mistress Emily; I never thought to need such kindness -at your hands. But now do me another, and say not a word to any one at -the mansion of what has happened. It will be better for me, for you, -for your father, that you should not speak of this business." - -"Do not! do not! Mistress Emily!" cried the old man, who was standing -near. "It will only make mischief and bring about evil." - -He spoke evidently under strong apprehension, and Emily was much -surprised, both to find that one quite a stranger to her knew her at -once, and to find the old cottager, a long dependant upon her family, -second so eagerly his strange injunction. - -"I will say nothing unless questions are asked me," she replied; "then -of course I must tell the truth." - -"Better not," replied the young man gloomily. - -"I cannot speak falsely," replied the beautiful girl "I cannot deal -doubly with my parents or any one," and she was turning away. - -But the stranger besought her to stop one moment, and said, "I have -not strength to explain all now; but I shall see you again, and then I -will tell you why I have spoken as you think strangely. I shall see -you again. In common charity you will come to ask if I am alive or -dead. If you knew how near we are to each other, I am sure you would -promise!" - -"I can make no such promise," replied Emily; but the old cottager -seemed eager to end the interview; and speaking for her, he exclaimed, -"Oh, she will come, I am sure, Mistress Emily will come;" and hurried -her away, seeing her back to the little gate in the park wall. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - -Mrs. Hazleton found Mr. Shanks, the attorney, the most difficult -person to deal with whom she had ever met in her life. She had -remarked that he was keen, active, intelligent, unscrupulous, -confident in his own powers, bold as a lion in the wars of quill, -parchment, and red tape; without fear, without hesitation, without -remorse. There was nothing that he scrupled to do, nothing that he -ever repented having done. She had fancied that the only difficulty -which she could have to encounter was that of concealing from him, at -least in a degree, the ultimate objects and designs which she herself -had in view. - -So shrewd people often deceive themselves as to the character of other -shrewd people. The difficulty was quite different. It was a peculiar -sort of stolidity on the part of Mr. Shanks, for which she was utterly -unprepared. - -Now the attorney was ready to do any thing on earth which his fair -patroness wished. He would have perilled his name on the roll in her -service; and was only eager to understand what were her desires, even -without giving her the trouble of explaining them. Moreover, there was -no point of law or equity, no manner of roguery or chicanery, no -object of avarice, covetousness, or ambition, which he could not have -comprehended at once. They were things within his own ken and scope, -to which the intellect and resources of his mind were always open. But -to other passions, to deeper, more remote motives and emotions, Mr. -Shanks was as stolid as a door-post. It required to hew a way as it -were to his perceptions, to tunnel his mind for the passage of a new -conception. - -The only passion which afforded the slightest cranny of an opening was -revenge; and after having tried a dozen other ways of making him -comprehend what she wished without committing herself, Mrs. Hazleton -got him to understand that she thought Sir Philip Hastings had -injured--at all events, that he had offended--her, and that she sought -vengeance. From that moment all was easy. Mr. Shanks could understand -the feeling, though not its extent. He would himself have given ten -pounds out of his own pocket--the largest sum he had ever given in -life for any thing but an advantage--to be revenged upon the same man -for the insult he had received; and he could perceive that Mrs. -Hazleton would go much further, without, indeed, being able to -conceive, or even dream of, the extent to which she was prepared to -go. - -However, when he had once got the clue, he was prepared to run along -the road with all celerity; and now she found him every thing she had -expected. He was a man copious in resources, prolific of schemes. His -imagination had exercised itself through life, in devising crooked -paths; but in this instance the road was straight-forward before him. -He would rather it had been tortuous, it is true; but for the sake of -his dear lady he was ready to follow even a plain path, and he -explained to her that Sir Philip Hastings stood in a somewhat -dangerous position. - -He was proceeding to enter into the details, but Mrs. Hazleton -interrupted him, and, to his surprise, not only told him, but showed -him, that she knew all the particulars. - -"The only question is, Mr. Shanks," she said, "can you prove the -marriage of his elder brother to this woman before the birth of the -child?" - -"We think we can, madam," replied the attorney, "we think we can. -There is a very strong letter, and there has been evidently--" - -He paused and hesitated, and Mrs. Hazleton demanded, "There has been -what, Mr. Shanks?" - -"There has been evidently a leaf torn out of the register," replied -the lawyer. - -There was something in his manner which made the lady gaze keenly in -his face; but she would ask no questions on that subject, and she -merely said, "Then why has not the case gone on, as it was put in your -hands six months ago?" - -"Why, you see, my dear madam," replied Shanks, "law is at best -uncertain. One wants two or three great lawyers to make a case. Money -was short; John and his mother had spent all last year's annuity. -Barristers won't plead without fees, and besides--" - -He paused again, but an impatient gesture from the lady urged him on. -"Besides," he said, "I had devised a little scheme, which, of course, -I shall abandon now, for marrying him to Mistress Emily Hastings. He -is a very handsome young fellow, and--" - -"I have seen him," said Mrs. Hazleton, thoughtfully, "but why should -you abandon this scheme, Mr. Shanks? It seems to me by no means a bad -one." - -The poor lawyer was now all at sea again, and fancied himself as wide -of the lady's aim as ever. - -Mrs. Hazleton suffered him to remain in this dull suspense for some -time. Wrapped up in her own thoughts, and busy with her own -calculations, she suffered several minutes to elapse without adding a -word to that which had so much surprised the attorney. Then, however, -she said, in a meditative tone, "There is only one way by which it can -be accomplished. If you allow it to be conducted in a formal manner, -you will fail utterly. Sir Philip will never consent. She will never -even yield." - -"But if Sir Philip is made to see that it will save him a tremendous -lawsuit, and perhaps his whole estate," suggested Mr. Shanks. - -"He will resist the more firmly," answered the lady; "if it saved his -life, he would reject it with scorn--no! But there is a way. If you -can persuade her--if you can show her that her father's safety, his -position in life, depends upon her conduct, perhaps you may bring her -by degrees to consent to a private marriage. She is young, -inexperienced, enthusiastic, romantic. She loves her father devotedly, -and would make any sacrifice for him." - -"No great sacrifice, I should think, madam," replied Mr. Shanks, "to -marry a handsome young man who has a just claim to a large fortune." - -"That is as people may judge," replied the lady; "but at all events -this claim gives us a hold upon her which we must not fail to use, and -that directly. I will contrive means of bringing them together. I will -make opportunity for the lad, but you must instruct him how to use it -properly. All I can do is to co-operate without appearing." - -"But, my dear madam, I really do not fully understand," said Mr. -Shanks. "I had a fancy--a sort of imagination like, that you -wished--that you desired--" - -He hesitated; but Mrs. Hazleton would not help him by a single word, -and at last he added, "I had a fancy that you wished this suit -to go on against Sir Philip Hastings, and now--but that does not -matter--only do you really wish to bring it all to an end, to settle -it by a marriage between John and Mistress Emily?" - -"That will be the pleasantest, the easiest way of settling it, sir," -replied Mrs. Hazleton, coolly; "and I do not at all desire to injure, -but rather to serve Sir Philip and his family." - -That was false, for though to marry Emily Hastings to any one but Mr. -Marlow was what the lady did very sincerely desire; yet there was a -long account to be settled with Sir Philip Hastings which could not -well be discharged without a certain amount of injury to him and his. -The lady was well aware, too, that she had told a lie, and moreover -that it was one which Mr. Shanks was not at all likely to believe. -Perhaps even she did not quite wish him to believe it, and at all -events she knew that her actions must soon give it contradiction. But -men make strange distinctions between speech and action, not to be -accounted for without long investigation and disquisition. There are -cases where people shrink from defining in words their purposes, or -giving voice to their feelings, even when they are prepared by acts to -stamp them for eternity. There are cases where men do acts which they -dare not cover by a lie. - -Mrs. Hazleton sought for no less than the ruin of Sir Philip Hastings; -she had determined it in her own heart, and yet she would not own it -to her agent--perhaps she would not own it to herself. There is a dark -secret chamber in the breast of every one, at the door of which the -eyes of the spirit are blindfolded, that it may not see the things to -which it is consenting. Conscience records them silently, and sooner -or later her book is to be opened; it may be in this world: it may be -in the next: but for the time that book is in the keeping of passion, -who rarely suffers the pages to be seen till purpose has been ratified -by act, and remorse stands ready to pronounce the doom. - -There was a pause after Mrs. Hazleton had spoken, for the attorney was -busy also with thoughts he wished to utter, yet dared not speak. The -first prospect of a lawsuit--the only sort of the picturesque in which -he could find pleasure--a long, intricate, expensive lawsuit, was -fading before his eyes as if a mist were coming over the scene. Where -were his consultations, his letters, his briefs, his pleas, its -rejoinders, his demurrers, his appeals? Where were the fees, the -bright golden fees? True, in the hopelessness of his young client's -fortunes, he had urged the marriage with a proviso, that if it took -place by his skilful management, a handsome bonus was to be his share -of the spoil. But then Mrs. Hazleton's first communication had raised -brighter hopes, had put him more in his own element, had opened to him -a scene of achievements as glorious to his notions as those of the -listed field to knights of old; and now all was vanishing away. Yet he -did not venture to tell her how much he was disappointed, still less -to show her why and how. - -It was the lady who spoke first; and she did so in as calm, -deliberate, passionless a tone as if she had been devising the fashion -of a new Mantua. - -"It may be as well, Mr. Shanks," she said, "in order to produce the -effect we wish upon dear Emily's mind"--dear Emily!--"to commence the -suit against Sir Philip--I mean to take those first steps which may -create some alarm. I cannot of course judge what they ought to be, but -you must know; and if not, you must seek advice from counsel learned -in the law. You understand what I mean, doubtless." - -"Oh, certainly, madam, certainly," replied Mr. Shanks, with a profound -sigh of relief. "First steps commit us to nothing: but they must be -devised cautiously, and I am very much afraid that--that--" - -"Afraid of what, sir?" asked Mrs. Hazleton, in a tone somewhat stern. - -"Only that the expense will be greater than my young client can -afford," answered the lawyer, seeing that he must come to the point. - -"Let not that stand in the way," said Mrs. Hazleton at once; "I will -supply the means. What will be the expense?" - -"Would you object to say five hundred pounds?" asked the lawyer, -cautiously. - -"A thousand," replied the lady, with a slight inclination of the head; -and then, weary of circumlocution, she added in a bolder tone than she -had yet used, "only remember, sir, that what is done must be done -effectually; no mistakes, no errors, no flaws! See that you use all -your eyes--see that you bend every nerve to the task. I will have no -procrastination for the sake of fresh fees--nothing omitted one day to -be remembered the next--no blunders to be corrected after long delays -and longer correspondence. I know you lawyers and your ways right -well; and if I find that for the sake of swelling a bill to the -bursting, you attempt to procrastinate, the cause will be taken at -once from your hands and placed in those who will do their work more -speedily. You can practise those tricks upon those who are more or -less in your power; but you shall not play them upon me." - -"I declare, my dear madam, I can assure you," said Mr. Shanks; but -Mrs. Hazleton cut him short. "There, there," she said, waving her fair -hand, "do not declare--do not assure me of any thing. Let your actions -speak, Mr. Shanks. I am too much accustomed to declarations and -assurances to set much value upon them. Now tell me, but in as few -words and with as few cant terms as possible, what are the chances of -success in this suit? How does the young man's case really stand?" - -Mr. Shanks would gladly have been excused such explanations. He never -liked to speak clearly upon such delicate questions, but he would not -venture to refuse any demand of Mrs. Hazleton's, and therefore he -began with a circumlocution in regard to the uncertainty of law, and -to the impossibility of giving any exact assurances of success. - -The lady would not be driven from her point, however. "That is not -what I sought to know," she said. "I am as well aware of the law's -uncertainty--of its iniquity, as you. But I ask you what grounds you -have to go upon? Were they ever really married? Is this son -legitimate?" - -"The lady says they were married," replied Mr. Shanks cautiously, "and -I have good hope we can prove the legitimacy. There is a letter in -which the late Mr. John Hastings calls her 'my dear little wife;' and -then there is clearly a leaf torn out of the marriage register about -that very time." - -Mr. Shanks spoke the last words slowly and with some hesitation; but -after a pause he went on more boldly and rapidly. "Then we have a -deposition of the old woman Danby that they were married. This is -clear and precise," he continued with a grin: "she wanted to put in -something about 'in the eyes of God,' but I left that out as beside -the question; and she did the swearing very well. She might have -broken down under cross-examination, it is true; and therefore it was -well to put off the trial till she was gone. We can prove, moreover, -that the late Sir John always paid an annuity to both mother and -child, in order to make them keep secret--nay more, that he bribed the -old woman Danby. This is our strong point; but it is beyond doubt--I -can prove it, madam--I can prove it. All I fear is the mother; she is -weak--very weak; I wish to heaven she were out of the way till the -trial is over." - -"Send her out of the way," cried Mrs. Hazleton, decidedly; "send her -to France;" and then she added, with a bitter smile, "she may still -figure amongst the beauties of Versailles. - -"But she will not go," replied Mr. Shanks. "Madam, she will not go. I -hinted at such a step--mentioned Cornwall or Ireland--any where she -could be concealed." - -"Cornwall or Ireland!" exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton, "of course she would -not go. Why did not you propose Africa or the plantations? She shall -go, Mr. Shanks. Leave her to me. She shall go. And now, set to work at -once--immediately, I say--this very day. Send the youth to-morrow, and -let him bring me word that some step is taken. I will instruct him how -to act, while you deal with the law." - -Mr. Shanks promised to obey, and retired overawed by all he had seen -and heard. There had, it is true, been no vehement demonstration of -passion; no fierce blaze; no violent flash; but there had been -indications enough to show the man of law all that was raging within. -It had been for him like gazing at a fine building on fire at that -period of the conflagration where dense smoke and heavy darkness brood -over the fearful scene, while dull, suddenly-smothered flashes break -across the gloom, and tell how terrible will be the flame when it does -burst freely forth. - -He had never known Mrs. Hazleton before--he had never comprehended her -fully. But now he knew her--now, though perhaps the depths were still -unfathomable to his eyes, he felt that there was a strong commanding -will within that beautiful form which would bear no trifling. He had -often treated her with easy lightness--with no want of apparent -respect indeed--but with the persuasions and arguments such as men of -business often address to women as beings inferior to themselves -either in intellect or experience. Now Mr. Shanks wondered how he had -escaped so long and so well, and he resolved that for the future his -conduct should be very different. - -Mrs. Hazleton, when he left her, sat down to rest--yes, to rest; for -she was very weary. There had been the fatiguing strife of strong -passions in the heart--hopes--expectations--schemes--contrivances; -and, above all, there had been a wrestling with herself to deal calmly -and softly where she felt fiercely. It had exhausted her; and for some -minutes she sat listlessly, with her eyes half shut, like one utterly -tired out. Ere a quarter of an hour had passed, wheels rolled up to -the door; a carriage-step was let down, and there was a footfall in -the hall. - -"Dear Mrs. Warmington, delighted to see you!" said Mrs. Hazleton, with -a smile sweet and gentle as the dawn of a summer morning. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -Circumstance will always have its finger in the pie with the best-laid -schemes; but it does not always happen that thereby the pie is -spoiled. On the contrary, circumstance is sometimes a very powerful -auxiliary, and it happened so in the present instance with the -arrangements of Mrs. Hazleton. Before that lady could bring any part -of her scheme for introducing Emily to the man whom she intended to -drive her into taking as a husband, to bear, the introduction had -already taken place, as we have seen, by an accident. - -It was likely, indeed, to go no further; for Emily thought over what -had occurred, before she gave way to her native kindness of heart. She -remembered how tenacious all country gentlemen of that day were of -their sporting rights, and especially of what she had often heard her -father declare, that he looked upon any body who took his game off his -property, according to every principle of equity and justice, as no -better than a common robber. - -"If the only excuse be that it is more exposed to depredation than -other property," said Sir Philip, "it only shows that the plunderer of -it is a coward as well as a villain, and should be punished the more -severely." Such, and many such speeches she had heard from her father -at various times, and it became a case of conscience, which puzzled -the poor girl much, whether she ought or ought not to have promised -not to mention what had occurred in the park. She loved no -concealment, and nothing would have induced her to tell a falsehood; -but she knew that if she mentioned the facts, especially while the -young man whom she had seen crossing the park with a gun lay wounded -at the cottage, great evil might have resulted; and though she -somewhat reproached herself for rashly giving her word, she would not -break it when given. - -As to seeing him again, however--as to visiting him at the cottage, -even to inquire after his health, when he had refused all aid from her -father's house, that was an act she never dreamed of. His last words, -indeed, had puzzled her; and there was something in his face, too, -which set her fancy wandering. It was not exactly what she liked; but -yet there was a resemblance, she thought, to some one she knew and was -attached to. It could not be to her father, she said to herself, and -yet her father's face recurred to her mind more frequently than any -other when she thought of that of the young man she had seen; and from -that fact a sort of prepossession in the youth's favor took possession -of her, making her long to know who he really was. - -For some days Emily did not go near the cottage, but at length she -ventured on the road which passed it--not without a hope, indeed, that -she might meet one of the old people who tenanted it, and have an -opportunity of inquiring after his health--but certainly not, as some -good-natured reader may suppose, with any expectation of seeing him -herself. As she approached, however, she perceived him sitting on a -bench at the cottage-door, and, by a natural impulse, she turned at -once into another path, which led back by a way nearly as short to the -hall. The young man instantly rose, and followed her, addressing her -by name, in a voice still weak, in truth, but too loud for her not to -hear, or to affect not to hear. - -She paused, rather provoked than otherwise, and slightly inclined her -head, while the young man approached, with every appearance of -respect, and thanked her for the assistance she had rendered him. - -He had had his lesson in the mean time, and he played his part not -amiss. All coarse swagger, all vulgar assumption was gone from his -manner; and referring himself to some words he had spoken when last -they had met, he said: "Pardon me, Miss Hastings, for what I said some -days ago, which might seem both strange and mysterious, and for -pressing to see you again; but at that time I was faint with loss of -blood, and knew not how this might end. I wished to tell you something -I thought you ought to hear; but now I am better; and I will find a -more fitting opportunity ere long." - -"It will be better to say any thing you think fit to my father," -replied Emily. "I am not accustomed to deal with any matters of -importance; and any thing of so much moment as you seem to think this -is, would, of course, be told by me to him." - -"I think not," replied the other, with a mysterious smile; "but of -that you will judge when you have heard all I have to say. Your father -is the last person to whom I would mention it myself, because I -believe, notwithstanding all his ability, he is the last person who -would judge sanely of it, as he would of most other matters; but, of -course, you will speak of it or not, as you think proper. At present," -he added, "I am too weak to attempt the detail, even if I could -venture to detain you here. I only wished to return you my best -thanks, and assure you of my gratitude;" and bowing low, he left her -to pursue her way homeward. - -Emily went on musing. No woman's breast is without curiosity--nor any -man's, either--and she asked herself what could be the meaning of the -stranger's words, at least a dozen times. What could he have to tell -her, and why was there so much mystery? She did not like mystery, -however; and though she felt interested in the young man--felt pity, -in fact--yet it was by no means the interest that leads to, nor the -pity which is akin to love. On the contrary, she liked him less than -the first time she saw him. There was a certain degree of cunning in -his mysterious smile, a look of self-confidence, almost of triumph in -his face, which, in spite of his respectful demeanor, did not please -her. - -Emily's father was absent from home at this time; but he returned two -or three days after this last interview, and remarked that his -daughter was unusually grave. To her, and to all that affected her in -any way, his eyes were always open, though he often failed to -comprehend that which he observed. Lady Hastings, too, had noticed -Emily's unusual gravity, and as she had no clue to that which made her -thoughtful, she concluded that the solitude of the country had a -depressing influence upon her spirits, as it frequently had upon her -own and she determined to speak to her husband upon the matter. To him -she represented that the place was very dull; that they had but few -visitors; that even Mr. Marlow had not called for a week; and that -Emily really required some variety of scene and amusement. - -She reasoned well according to her notions, and though Sir Philip -could not quite comprehend them, though he abhorred great cities, and -loved the country, she had made some impression at least by -reiteration, when suddenly a letter arrived from Mrs. Hazleton, -petitioning that Emily might be permitted to spend a few days with -her. - -"I am quite alone," she said, "and not very well (she never was better -in her life), and I propose next week to make some excursions to all -the beautiful and interesting spots in the neighborhood. But you know, -dear Lady Hastings, there is but small pleasure in such expeditions -when they must be solitary; but with such a mind as that of your dear -Emily for my companion, every object will possess a double interest." - -The reader has perceived that the letter was addressed to Lady -Hastings; but it was written for the eye of Sir Philip, and to him it -was shown. Lady Hastings observed, as she put the note into her -husband's hand, that it would be much better to go to London. The -change from their own house to Mrs. Hazleton's was not enough to do -Emily any good; and that, as to these expeditions to neighboring -places, she had always found them the dullest things imaginable. - -Sir Philip thought differently, however. He had been brought to the -point of believing that Emily did want change, but not to the -conviction that London would afford the best change for her. He -inquired of Emily, however, which she would like best, a visit of a -week to Mrs. Hazleton's, or a short visit to the metropolis. Much to -his satisfaction, Emily decided at once in favor of the former, and -Mrs. Hazleton's letter was answered, accepting her invitation. - -The day before Emily went, Mr. Marlow spent nearly two hours with her -and her father in the sort of musy, wandering conversation which is so -delightful to imaginative minds. He paid Emily herself no marked or -particular attention; but he never suffered her to doubt that even -while talking with her father, he was fully conscious of her presence, -and pleased with it. Sometimes his conversation was addressed to her -directly, and when it was not, by a word or look he would invite her -to join in, and listened to her words as if they were very sweet to -his ear. - -She loved to listen to him, however, better than to speak herself, and -he contrived to please and interest her in all he said, gently moving -all sorts of various feelings, sometimes making her smile gayly, -sometimes muse thoughtfully, and sometimes rendering her almost sad. -If he had been the most practiced love-maker in the world, he could -not have done better with a mind like that of Emily Hastings. - -He heard of her proposed visit to Mrs. Hazleton with pleasure, and -expressed it. "I am very glad to hear you are to be with her," he -said, "for I do not think Mrs. Hazleton is well. She has lost her -usual spirits, and has been very grave and thoughtful when I have seen -her lately." - -"Oh, if I can cheer and soothe her," cried Emily eagerly, "how -delightful my visit will be to me. Mrs. Hazleton says in her letter -that she is unwell; and that decided me to go to her, rather than to -London." - -"To London!" exclaimed Mr. Marlow, "I had no idea that you proposed -such a journey. Oh, Sir Philip, do not take your daughter to London. -Friends of mine there are often in the habit of bringing in fresh and -beautiful flowers from the country; but I always see that first they -become dull and dingy with the smoke and heavy air, and then wither -away and perish; and often in gay parties, I have thought that I saw -in the young and beautiful around me the same dulling influence, the -same withering, both of the body and the heart." - -Sir Philip Hastings smiled pleasantly, and assured his young friend -that he had no desire or intention of going to the capital except for -one month in the winter, and Emily looked up brightly, saying, "For my -part, I only wish that even then I could be left behind. When last I -was there, I was so tired of the blue velvet lining of the gilt -_vis-a-vis_, that I used to try and paint fancy pictures of the -country upon it as I drove through the streets with mamma." - -At length Emily set out in the heavy family coach, with her maid and -Sir Philip for her escort. Progression was slow in those days compared -with our own, when a man can get as much event into fifty years as -Methuselah did into a thousand. The journey took three hours at the -least; but it seemed short to Emily, for at the end of the first hour -they were overtaken by Mr. Marlow on horseback, and he rode along with -them to the gate of Mrs. Hazleton's house. He was an admirable -horseman, for he had not only a good but a graceful seat, and his -handsome figure and fine gentlemanly carriage never appeared to -greater advantage than when he did his best to be a centaur. The slow -progress of the lumbering vehicle might have been of some -inconvenience, but his horse was trained to canter to a walk when he -pleased, and, leaning to the window of the carriage, and sometimes -resting his hand upon it, he contrived to carry on the conversation -with those within almost as easily as in a drawing-room. - -Just as the carriage was approaching the gate, Marlow said: "I think I -shall not go in with you Sir Philip for I have a little business -farther on, and I have ridden more slowly than I thought;" but before -the sentence was well concluded, the gates of the park were opened by -the porter, and Mrs. Hazleton herself appeared within, leaning on the -arm of her maid. She had calculated well the period of Emily's -arrival, and had gone out to the gate for the purpose of giving her an -extremely hospitable welcome. Probably, had she not hated her as -warmly and sincerely as she did, she would have stayed at home; our -attention is ever doubtful. - -But what were Mrs. Hazleton's feelings when she saw Mr. Marlow riding -by the side of the carriage? I will not attempt to describe them; but -for one instant a strange dark cloud passed over her beautiful face. -It was banished in an instant; but not before Marlow had remarked both -the expression itself and the sudden glance of the lady's eyes from -him to Emily. For the first time a doubt, a suspicion, a something he -did not like to fathom, came over his mind; and he resolved to watch. -Neither Emily nor her father perceived that look, and as the next -moment the beautiful face was once more as bright as ever, they felt -pleased with her kind eagerness to meet them; and alighting from the -carriage, walked on with her to the house, while Marlow, dismounted, -accompanied them, leading his horse. - -"I am glad to see you, Mr. Marlow," said Mrs. Hazleton, in a tone from -which she could not do what she would--banish all bitterness. "I -suppose I owe the pleasure of your visit to that which you yourself -feel in escorting a fair lady." - -"I must not, I fear, pretend to such gallantry," replied Marlow. "I -overtook the carriage accidentally as I was riding to Mr. Cornelius -Brown's; and to say the truth, I did not intend to come in, for I am -somewhat late." - -"Cold comfort for my vanity," replied the lady, "that you would not -have paid me a visit unless you had met me at the gate." - -She spoke in a tone rather of sadness than of anger; but Marlow did -not choose to perceive any thing serious in her words, and he replied, -laughing: "Nay, dear Mrs. Hazleton, you do not read the riddle aright. -It shows, when rightly interpreted, that your society is so charming -that I cannot resist its influence when once within the spell, even -for the sake of the Englishman's god--Business." - -"A man always succeeds in drawing some flattery for woman's ear out of -the least flattering conduct," answered Mrs. Hazleton. - -The conversation then took another turn; and after walking with the -rest of the party up to the house, Marlow again mounted and rode away. -As soon as the horses had obtained some food and repose, Sir Philip -also returned, and Emily was left with a woman who felt at her heart -that she could have poniarded her not an hour before. - -But Mrs. Hazleton was all gentle sweetness, and calm, thoughtful, -dignified ease. She did not suffer her attention to to diverted for -one moment from her fair guest: there were no reveries, no absence of -mind; and Emily--poor Emily--thought her more charming than ever. -Nevertheless, while speaking upon many subjects, and brightly and -intelligently upon all, there was an under-current of thought going on -unceasingly in Mrs. Hazleton's mind, different from that upon the -surface. She was trying to read Marlow's conduct towards Emily--to -judge whether he loved her or not. She asked herself whether his -having escorted her to that house was in reality purely accidental, -and she wished that she could have seen them together but for a few -moments longer, though every moment had been a dagger to her heart. -Nay, she did more: she strove by many a dexterous turn of the -conversation, to lure out her fair unconscious guest's inmost -thoughts--to induce her, not to tell all, for that she knew was -hopeless, but to betray all. Emily, however, happily for herself, was -unconscious; she knew not that there was any thing to betray. -Fortunately, most fortunately, she knew not what was in her own -breast; or perhaps I should say, knew not what it meant. Her answers -were all simple, natural and true; and plain candor, as often happens, -disappointed art. - -Mrs. Hazleton retired for the night with the conviction that whatever -might be Marlow's feelings towards Emily, Emily was not in love with -Marlow; and that was something gained. - -"No, no," she said, with a pride in her own discernment, "a woman who -knows something of the world can never be long deceived in regard to -another woman's heart." She should have added, "except by its -simplicity." - -"Now," she continued, mentally, "to-morrow for the first great step. -If this youth can but demean himself wisely, and will follow the -advice I have given him, he has a fair field to act in. He seems -prompt and ready enough: he is assuredly handsome, and what between -his good looks, kind persuasion by others, and her father's dangerous -position, this girl methinks may be easily driven--or led into his -arms; and that stumbling-block removed. He will punish her enough -hereafter, or I am mistaken." - -Punish her for what, Mrs. Hazleton? - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - -It was long ere Emily Hastings slept. There was a bright moonlight; -but she sat not up by the window, looking out at the moon in love-lorn -guise. No, she laid her down in bed, as soon as the toilet of the -night was concluded, and having left the window-shutters open, the -light of the sweet, calm brightener of the night poured in a long, -tranquil ray across the floor. She watched it, with her head resting -on her hand for a long time. Her fancy was very busy with it, as by -slow degrees it moved its place, now lying like a silver carpet by her -bedside, now crossing the floor far away, and painting the opposite -wall. Her thoughts then returned to other things, and whether she -would or not, Marlow took a share in them. She remembered things that -he had said, his looks came back to her mind, she seemed to converse -with him again, running over in thought all that had passed in the -morning. - -She was no castle-builder; there were no schemes, plans, designs, in -her mind; no airy structures of future happiness employed fancy as -their architect. She was happy in her own heart; and imagination, like -a bee, extracted sweetness from the flowers of the present. - -Sweet Emily, how beautiful she looked, as she lay there, and made a -night-life for herself in the world of her own thoughts! - -She could not sleep, she knew not why. Indeed, she did not wish or try -to sleep. She never did when sleep did not come naturally; but always -remained calmly waiting for the soother, till slumber dropped uncalled -and stilly upon her eyelids. - -One hour--two hours--the moonbeam had retired far into a corner of the -room, the household was all still; there was no sound but the barking -of a distant farm-dog, such a long way off; that it reached the ear -more like an echo than a sound, and the crowing of a cock, not much -more near. - -Suddenly, her door opened, and a figure entered, bearing a small -night-lamp. Emily started, and gazed. She was pot much given to fear, -and she uttered not a sound; for which command over herself she was -very thankful, when, in the tall, graceful form before her, she -recognized Mrs. Hazleton. She was dressed merely as she had risen from -her bed: her rich black hair bound up under her snowy cap, her long -night-gown trailing on the ground, and her feet bare. Yet she looked -perhaps more beautiful than in jewels and ermine. Her eyes were not -fixed and motionless, though there was a certain sort of deadness in -them. Neither were her movements stiff and mechanical, as we often see -in the representations of somnambulism on the stage. On the contrary, -they were free and graceful. She looked neither like Mrs. Siddons nor -any other who ever acted what she really was. Those who have seen the -state know better. She was walking in her sleep, however: that strange -act of a life apart from waking life--that mystery of mysteries, when -the soul seems severed from all things on earth but the body which it -inhabits--when the mind sleeps, but the spirit wakes--when the animal -and the spiritual live together, yet the intellectual lies dead for -the time. - -Emily comprehended her condition at once, and waited and watched, -having heard that it is dangerous to wake suddenly a person in such a -state. Mrs. Hazleton walked on past her bed towards a door at the -other side of the room, but stopped opposite the toilet-table, took up -a ribbon that was lying on it, and held it in her hand for a moment. - -"I hate him!" she said aloud; "but strangle him--oh, no! That would -not do. It would leave a blue mark. I hate him, and her too! They -can't help it--they must fall into the trap." - -Emily rose quietly from her bed, and advancing with a soft step, took -Mrs. Hazleton's hand gently. She made no resistance, only gazing at -her with a look not utterly devoid of meaning. "A strange world!" she -said, "where people must live with those they hate!" and suffered -Emily to lead her towards the door. She showed some reluctance to pass -it, however, and turned slowly towards the other door. Her beautiful -young guide led her thither, and opened it; then went on through the -neighboring room, which was vacant, Mrs. Hazleton saying, as they -passed the large bed canopied with velvet, "My mother died there--ah, -me!" The next door opened into the corridor; but Emily knew not where -her hostess slept, till perceiving a light streaming out upon the -floor from a room near the end, she guided Mrs. Hazleton's steps -thither, rightly judging that it must be the chamber she had just -left. There she quietly induced her to go to bed again, taking the -lamp from her hand, and bending down her sweet, innocent face, gave -her a gentle kiss. - -"Asp!" said Mrs. Hazleton, turning away; but Emily remained with her -for several minutes, till the eyes closed, the breathing became calm -and regular, and natural sleep succeeded to the strange state into -which she had fallen. - -Then returning to her own room, Emily once more sought her bed; but -though the moonlight had now departed, she was farther from sleep than -ever. - -Mrs. Hazleton's words still rang in her ears. She thought them very -strange; but yet she had heard--it was indeed a common superstition in -those days--that people talking in their sleep expressed feelings -exactly the reverse of those which they really entertained; and her -good, bright heart was glad to believe. She would not for the world -have thought that the fair form, and gentle, dignified manners of her -friend could shroud feelings so fierce and vindictive as those which -had breathed forth in the utterance of that one word, "hate." It -seemed to her impossible that Mrs. Hazleton could hate any thing, and -she resolved to believe so still. But yet the words rang in her ears, -as I have said. She had been somewhat agitated and alarmed, too, -though less than many might have been, and more than an hour passed -before her sweet eyes closed. - -On the morning of the following day, Emily was somewhat late at -breakfast; and she found Mrs. Hazleton down, and looking bright and -beautiful as the morning. It was evident that she had not even the -faintest recollection of what had occurred in the night--that it was a -portion of her life apart, between which and waking existence there -was no communication open. Emily determined to take no notice of her -sleep-walking; and she was wise, for I have always found, that to be -informed of their strange peculiarity leaves an awful and painful -impression on the real somnambulists--a feeling of being unlike the -rest of human beings, of having a sort of preternatural existence, -over which their human reason can hold no control. They fear -themselves--they fear their own acts--perhaps their own words, when -the power is gone from that familiar mind, which is more or less the -servant, if not the slave, of will, and when the whole mixed being, -flesh, and mind, and spirit, is under the sole government of that -darkest, least known, most mysterious personage of the three--the -soul. - -Mrs. Hazleton scolded her jestingly for late rising, and asked if she -was always such a lie-abed. Emily replied that she was not, but -usually very matutinal in her habits. "But the truth is, dear Mrs. -Hazleton," she added, "I did not sleep well last night." - -"Indeed," said her fair hostess, with a gay smile; "who were you -thinking of to keep your young eyes open?" - -"Of you," answered Emily, simply; and Mrs. Hazleton asked no more -questions; for, perhaps, she did not wish Emily to think of her too -much. Immediately after breakfast the carriage was ordered for a long -drive. - -"I will give you so large a dose of mountain air," said Mrs. Hazleton, -"that it shall insure you a better night's rest than any narcotic -could procure, Emily. We will go and visit Ellendon Castle, far in the -wilds, some sixteen miles hence." - -Emily was well pleased with the prospect, and they set out together, -both apparently equally prepared to enjoy every thing they met with. -The drive was a long one in point of time, for not only were the -carriages more cumbrous and heavy in those days, but the road -continued ascending nearly the whole way. Sometimes, indeed, a short -run down into a gentle valley released the horses from the continual -tug on the collar, but it was very brief, and the ascent commenced -almost immediately. Beautiful views over the scenery round presented -themselves at every turn; and Emily, who had all the spirit of a -painter in her heart, looked forth from the window enchanted. - -Mrs. Hazleton marked her enjoyment with great satisfaction; for either -by study or intuition she had a deep knowledge of the springs and -sources of human emotions, and she knew well that one enthusiasm -always disposes to another. Nay, more, she knew that whatever is -associated in the mind with pleasant scenes is usually pleasing, and -she had plotted the meeting between Emily and him she intended to be -her lover with considerable pains to produce that effect. Nature -seemed to have been a sharer in her schemes. The day could not have -been better chosen. There was the light fresh air, the few floating -clouds, the merry dancing gleams upon hill and dale, a light, -momentary shower of large, jewel-like drops, the fragment of a broken -rainbow painting the distant verge of heaven. - -At length the summit of the hills was reached; and Mrs. Hazleton told -her sweet companion to look out there, ordering the carriage at the -same time to stop. It was indeed a scene well worthy of the gaze. Far -spreading out beneath the eye lay a wide basin in the hills, walled -in, as it were, by those tall summits, here and there broken by a -crag. The ground sloped gently down from the spot at which the -carriage paused, so that the whole expanse was open to the eye, and -over the short brown herbage, through which a purple gleam from the -yet unblossomed heath shone out, the lights and shades seemed sporting -in mad glee. All was indeed solitary, uncultivated, and even barren, -except where, in the very centre of the wide hollow, appeared a number -of trees, not grouped together in a wood, but scattered over a -considerable space of ground, as if the remnants of some old -deer-park, and over their tall tops rose up the ruined keep of some -ancient stronghold of races passed away, with here and there another -tower or pinnacle appearing, and long lines of grassy mounds, greener -than the rest of the landscape, glancing between the stems of the -older trees, or bearing up in picturesque confusion their own growth -of wild, fantastic, seedling ashes. - -By the name of the spot, Ellendon, which means strong-hill, I believe -it is more than probable that the Anglo-Saxons had here some forts -before the conquest; but the ruin which now presented itself to the -eyes of Emily and Mrs. Hazleton was evidently of a later date and of -Norman construction. - -Here, probably, some proud baron of the times of Henry, Stephen, or -Matilda, had built his nest on high, perchance to overawe the Saxon -churls around him, perhaps to set at defiance the royal power itself. -Here the merry chase had swept the hills; here revelry and pageantry -had checkered a life of fierce strife and haughty oppression. Such -scenes, at least such thoughts, presented themselves to the -imaginative mind of Emily, like the dreamy gleams that skimmed in gold -and purple before her eyes; but the effect of any strong feeling, -whether of enjoyment or of grief, was always to make her silent; and -she gazed without uttering a word. - -Mrs. Hazleton, however, understood some points in her character, and -by the long fixed look from beneath the dark sweeping lashes of her -eye, by the faint sweet smile that gently curled her young, beautiful -lip, and by the sort of gasping sigh after she had gazed breathless -for some moments, she knew how intense was that gentle creature's -delight in a scene, which to many an eye would have offered no -peculiar charm. - -She would not suffer it to lose any of its first effect, and after a -brief pause ordered the carriage to drive on. Still Emily continued to -look onwards out of carriage-window, and as the road turned in the -descent, the castle and the ancient trees grouped themselves -differently every minute. At length, as they came nearer, she said, -turning to Mrs. Hazleton, "There seems to be a man standing at the -very highest point of the old keep." - -"He must be bold indeed," replied her companion, looking out also. -"When you come close to it, dear Emily, you will see that it requires -the foot of a goat and the heart of a lion to climb up there over the -rough, disjointed, tottering stones. Good Heaven, I hope he will not -fall!" - -Emily closed her eyes. "It is very foolish," she said. - -"Oh, men have pleasure in such feats of daring," answered Mrs. -Hazleton, "which we women cannot understand. He is coming down again -as steadily as if he were treading a ball-room. I wish that tree were -out of the way." - -In two or three minutes the carriage passed between two rows of old -and somewhat decayed oaks, and stopped between the fine gate of the -castle, covered with ivy, and rugged with the work of Time's too -artistic hand, and a building which, if it did not detract from the -picturesque beauty of the scene, certainly deprived it of all romance. -There, just opposite the entrance, stood a small house, built -apparently of stones stolen from the ruins, and bearing on a pole -projecting from the front a large blue sign-board, on which was rudely -painted in yellow, the figure of what we now call a French horn, while -underneath appeared a long inscription to the following effect: - -"John Buttercross, at the sign of the Bugle Horn, sells wine and aqua -vitæ, and good lodgings to man and horse. N. B. Donkeys to be found -within." - -Emily laughed, and in an instant came down to common earth. - -Mrs. Hazleton wished both John Buttercross and his sign in one fire or -another; though she could not help owning that such a house in so -remote a place might be a great convenience to visitors like herself. -She took the matter quietly, however, returning Emily's gay look with -one somewhat rueful, and saying, "Ah, dear girl, all very mundane and -unromantic, but depend upon it the house has proved a blessing often -to poor wanderers in bleak weather over these wild hills; and we -ourselves may find it not so unpleasant by and by when Paul has spread -our luncheon in the parlor, and we look out of its little casement at -the old ruin there." - -Thus saying, she alighted from the carriage, gave some orders to her -servants, and to an hostler who was walking up and down a remarkably -beautiful horse, which seemed to have been ridden hard, and then -leaning on Emily's arm, walked up the slope towards the gate. - -Barbican and outer walls were gone--fallen long ago into the ditch, -and covered with the all-receiving earth and a green coat of turf. You -could but tell were they lay, by the undulations of the ground, and -the grassy hillock here and there. The great gate still stood firm, -however, with its two tall towers, standing like giant wardens to -guard the entrance. There were the machicolated parapets, the long -loopholes mantled with ivy, the outsloping basement, against which the -battering ram might have long played in vain, the family escutcheon -with the arms crumbled from it, the portcullis itself showing its iron -teeth above the traveller's head. It was the most perfect part of the -building; and when the two ladies entered the great court the scene of -ruin was more complete. Many a tower had fallen, leaving large gaps in -the inner wall; the chapel with only one beautiful window left, and -the fragments of two others, showing where the fine line had run, lay -mouldering on the right, and at some distance in front appeared the -tall majestic keep, the lower rooms of which were in tolerable -preservation, though the roof had fallen in to the second story, and -the airy summit had lost its symmetry by the destruction of two entire -sides. Short green turf covered the whole court, except where some -mass of stone, more recently fallen than others, still stood out bare -and gray; but a crop of brambles and nettles bristled up near the -chapel, and here and there a tree had planted itself on the tottering -ruins of the walls. - -Mrs. Hazleton walked straight towards the entrance of the keep along a -little path sufficiently well worn to show that the castle had -frequent visitors, and was within a few steps of the doorway, when a -figure issued forth which to say sooth did not at all surprise her to -behold. She gave a little start, however, saying in a low tone to -Emily, "That must be our climbing friend whose neck we thought in such -peril a short time since." - -The gentleman--for such estate was indicated by his dress, which was -dark and sober, but well made and costly--took a step or two slowly -forward, verging a little to the side as if to let two ladies pass -whom he did not know; but then suddenly he stopped, gazed for an -instant with a well assumed look of surprise and inquiry, and then -hurried rapidly towards them, raising hie hat not ungracefully, while -Mrs. Hazleton exclaimed, "Ah, how fortunate! Here is a friend who -doubtless can tell us all about the ruins." - -At the same moment Emily recognized the young man whom she had found -accidentally wounded in her father's park. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - -"Let me introduce Mr. Ayliffe to you, Emily," said Mrs. Hazleton; "but -you seem to know each other already. Is it so?" - -"I have seen this gentleman before," replied her young companion, "but -did not know his name. I hope you have quite recovered from your -wound?" - -"Quite, I thank you, Miss Hastings," replied John Ayliffe, in a quiet -and respectful tone; but then he added, "the interest you kindly -showed on the occasion, I believe did much to cure me." - -"Too much, and too soon!" thought Mrs. Hazleton, as she remarked a -slight flush pass over Emily's cheek, to which her reply gave -interpretation. - -"Every one, I suppose, would feel the same interest," answered the -beautiful girl, "in suffering such as you seemed to endure when I -accidentally met you in the park. Shall we go on into the Castle?" - -The last words were addressed to Mrs. Hazleton, who immediately -assented, but asked Mr. Ayliffe to act as their guide, and, at the -very first opportunity, whispered to him, "not too quick." - -He seemed to comprehend in a moment what she meant; and during the -rest of the ramble round the ruins behaved himself with a good deal of -discretion. His conversation could not be said to be agreeable to -Emily; for there was little in it either to amuse or interest. His -stores of information were very limited--at least upon subjects which -she herself was conversant; and although he endeavored to give it, -every now and then, a poetical turn, the attempt was not very -successful. On the whole, however, he did tolerably well till after -the luncheon at the inn, to which Mrs. Hazleton invited him, when he -began to entertain his two fair companions with an account of a rat -hunt, which surprised Emily not a little, and drew, almost instantly, -from Mrs. Hazleton a monitory gesture. - -The young man looked confused, and broke off, suddenly, with an -embarrassed laugh, saying, "Oh! I forgot, such exploits are not very -fit for ladies' ears; and, to say the truth, I do not much like them -myself when there is any thing better to do." - -"I should think that something better might always be found," replied -Mrs. Hazleton, gravely, taking to her own lips the reproof which she -knew was in Emily's heart; "but, I dare say, you were a boy when this -happened?" - -"Oh, quite a boy," he said, "quite a boy. I have other things to think -of now." - -But the impression was made, and it was not favorable. With keen -acuteness Mrs. Hazleton watched every look, and every turn of the -conversation; and seeing that the course of things had begun ill for -her purposes, she very soon proposed to order the carriage and return; -resolving to take, as it were, a fresh start on the following day. She -did not then ask young Ayliffe to dine at her house, as she had, at -first, intended; but was well pleased, notwithstanding, to see him -mount his horse in order to accompany them on the way back; for she -had remarked that his horsemanship was excellent, and well knew that -skill in manly exercises is always a strong recommendation in a -woman's eyes. Nor was this all: decidedly handsome in person, John -Ayliffe had, nevertheless, a certain common--not exactly vulgar--air, -when on his feet, which was lost as soon as he was in the saddle. -There, with a perfect seat, and upright, dashing carriage, managing a -fierce, wild horse with complete mastery, he appeared to the greatest -advantage. All his horsemanship was thrown away upon Emily. If she had -been asked by any one, she would have admitted, at once, that he was a -very handsome man, and a good and graceful rider; but she never asked -herself whether he was or not; and, indeed, did not think about it at -all. - -One thing, however, she did think, and that was not what Mrs. Hazleton -desired. She thought him a coarse and vulgar-minded young man; and she -wondered how a woman of such refinement as Mrs. Hazleton could be -pleased with his society. There was at the end of that day only one -impression in his favor, which was produced by an undefinable -resemblance to her father, evanescent, but ever returning. There was -no one feature like: the coloring was different: the hair, eyes, -beard, all dissimilar. He was much handsomer than Sir Philip Hastings -ever had been; but ever and anon there came a glance of the eye, or a -curl of the lip; a family expression which was familiar and pleasant -to her. John Ayliffe accompanied the carriage to the gate of Mrs. -Hazleton's park; and there the lady beckoned him up, and in a kind, -half jesting tone, bade him keep himself disengaged the next day, as -she might want him. - -He promised to obey, and rode away; but Mrs. Hazleton never mentioned -his name again during the evening, which passed over in quiet -conversation, with little reference to the events of the morning. - -Before she went to bed, however, Mrs. Hazleton wrote a somewhat long -epistle to John Ayliffe, full of very important hints for his conduct -the next day, and ending with an injunction to burn the letter as soon -as he had read it. This done, she retired to rest; and that night, -what with free mountain air and exercise, she and Emily both slept -soundly. The next morning, however, she felt, or affected to feel, -fatigue; and put off another expedition which had been proposed. - -Noon had hardly arrived, when Mr. Ayliffe presented himself, to -receive her commands he said, and there he remained, invited to stay -to dinner, not much to Emily's satisfaction; but, at length, she -remembered that she had letters to write, and, seated at a table in -the window, went on covering sheets of paper, with a rapid hand, for -more than an hour; while John Ayliffe seated himself by Emily's -embroidery frame, and labored to efface the bad impression of the day -before, by a very different strain of conversation. He spoke of many -things more suited to her tastes and habits than those which he had -previously noticed, and spoke not altogether amiss. But yet, there was -something forced in it all. It was as if he were reading sentences out -of a book, and, in truth, it is probable he was repeating a lesson. - -Emily did not know what to do. She would have given the world to be -freed from his society; to have gone out and enjoyed her own thoughts -amongst woods and flowers; or even to have sat quietly in her own room -alone, feeling the summer air, and looking at the glorious sky. To -seek that refuge, however, she thought would be rude; and to go out to -walk in the park would, she doubted not, induce him to follow. She sat -still, therefore, with marvellous patience, answering briefly when an -answer was required; but never speaking in reply with any of that free -pouring forth of heart and mind which can only take place where -sympathy is strong. - -She was rewarded for her endurance, for when it had lasted well nigh -as long as she could bear it, the drawing-room door opened, and Mr. -Marlow appeared. His eyes instantly fixed upon Emily with that young -man sitting by her side; and a feeling, strange and painful, came -upon him. But the next instant the bright, glad, natural, unchecked -look, of satisfaction, with which she rose to greet him, swept every -doubt-making jealousy away. - -Very different was the look of Mrs. Hazleton. For an instant--a single -instant--the same black shadow, which I have mentioned once before, -came across her brow, the same lightning flashed from her eye. But -both passed away in a moment; and the feelings which produced them -were again hidden in her heart. They were bitter enough; for she -had read, with the clear eyesight of jealousy, all that Marlow's -look of surprise and annoyance--all that Emily's look of joy and -relief--betrayed. - -They might not yet call themselves lovers--they might not even be -conscious that they were so; but that they were and would be, from -that moment, Mrs. Hazleton had no doubt. The conviction had come upon -her, not exactly gradually, but by fits, as it were--first a doubt, -and then a fear, and then a certainty that one, and then that both -loved. - -If it were so, she knew that her present plans must fail; but yet she -pursued them with an eagerness very different than before--a wild, -rash, almost frantic eagerness. There was a chance, she thought, of -driving Emily into the arms of John Ayliffe, with no love for him, and -love for another; and there was a bitter sort of satisfaction in the -very idea. Fears for her father she always hoped might operate, where -no other inducement could have power, and such means she resolved to -bring into play at once, without waiting for the dull, long process of -drilling Ayliffe into gentlemanly carriage, or winning for him some -way in Emily's regard. To force her to marry him, hating rather than -loving him, would be a mighty gratification, and for it Mrs. Hazleton -resolved at once to strike; but she knew that hypocrisy was needed -more than ever; and therefore it was that the brow was smoothed, the -eye calmed in a moment. - -To Marlow, during his visit, she was courteous and civil enough, but -still so far cold as to give him no encouragement to stay long. She -kept watch too upon all that passed, not only between him and Emily, -but between him and John Ayliffe; for a quarrel between them, which -she thought likely, was not what she desired. But there was no danger -of such a result. Marlow treated the young man with a cold and distant -politeness--a proud civility, which left him no pretence for offence, -and yet silenced and abashed him completely. During the whole visit, -till towards its close, the contrast between the two men was so marked -and strong, so disadvantageous to him whom Mrs. Hazleton sought to -favor, that she would have given much to have had Ayliffe away from -such a damaging companion. At length she could endure it no longer, -and contrived to send him to seek for some flowers which she pretended -to want, and which she knew he would not readily find in her gardens. - -Before he returned, Marlow was gone; and Emily, soon after, retired to -her own room, leaving the youth and Mrs. Hazleton together. - -The three met again at dinner, and, for once, a subject was brought -up, by accident, or design--which, I know not--that gave John Ayliffe -an opportunity of setting himself in a somewhat better light. Every -one has some amenity--some sweeter, gentler spot in the character. He -had a great love for flowers--a passion for them; and it brought forth -the small, very small portion of the poetry of the heart which had -been assigned to him by nature. It was flowers then that Mrs. Hazleton -talked of, and he soon joined in discussing their beauties, with a -thorough knowledge of, and feeling for his subject. Emily was somewhat -surprised, and, with natural kindness, felt glad to find some topic -where she could converse with him at ease. The change of her manner -encouraged him, and he went on, for once, wisely keeping to a subject -on which he was at home, and which seemed so well to please. Mrs. -Hazleton helped him greatly with a skill and rapidity which few could -have displayed, always guiding the conversation back to the well -chosen theme, whenever it was lost for an instant. - -At length, when the impression was most favorable, John Ayliffe rose -to go--I know not whether he did so at a sign from Mrs. Hazleton; but -I think he did. Few men quit a room gracefully--it is a difficult -evolution--and he, certainly, did not. But Emily's eyes were in a -different direction, and to say the truth, although he had seemed to -her more agreeable that evening than he had been before, she thought -too little of him at all to remark how he quitted the room, even if -her eyes had been upon him. - -From time to time, indeed, some of the strange vague words which he -had used when she had seen him in the park, had recurred to her mind -with an unpleasant impression, and she had puzzled herself with the -question of what could be their meaning; but she soon dismissed the -subject, resolving to seek some information from Mrs. Hazleton, who -seemed to know the young man so well. - -On the preceding night, that lady had avoided all mention of him; but -that was not the case now. She spoke of him, almost as soon as he was -gone, in a tone of some compassion, alluding vaguely and mysteriously -to misfortunes and disadvantages under which he had labored, and -saying, that it was marvellous to see how much strength of mind, and -natural high qualities, could effect against adverse circumstances. -This called forth from Emily the inquiry which she had meditated, and -although she could not recollect exactly the words John Ayliffe had -used, she detailed, with sufficient accuracy, all that had taken place -between herself and him; and the strange allusion he had made to Sir -Philip Hastings. - -Mrs. Hazleton gazed at her for a moment or two after she had done -speaking, with a look expressive of anxious concern. - -"I trust, my dear Emily," she said, at length, "that you did not repel -him at all harshly. I have had much sad experience of the world, and I -know that in youth we are too apt to touch hardly and rashly, things -that for our own best interests, as well as for good feeling's sake, -we ought to deal with tenderly." - -"I do not think that I spoke harshly," replied Emily, thoughtfully; "I -told him that any thing he had to say must be said to my father; but I -do not believe I spoke even that unkindly." - -"I am glad to hear it--very glad;" replied Mrs. Hazleton, with much -emphasis; and then, after a short pause, she added, "Yet I do not know -that your father--excellent, noble-minded, just and generous as he -is--was the person best fitted to judge and act in the matter which -John Ayliffe might have to speak of." - -"Indeed!" exclaimed Emily, becoming more and more surprised, and in -some degree alarmed, "this is very strange, dear Mrs. Hazleton. You -seem to know more of this matter; pray explain it all to me. I may -well hear from you, what would be improper for me to listen to from -him." - -"He has a kindly heart," said Mrs. Hazleton, thoughtfully, "and more -forbearance than I ever knew in one so young; but it cannot last for -ever; and when he is of age, which will be in a few days, he must act; -and I trust will act kindly and gently--I am sure he will, if nothing -occurs to irritate a bold and decided character." - -"But act how?" inquired Emily, eagerly; "you forget, dear Mrs. -Hazleton, that I am quite in the dark in this matter. I dare say that -he is all that you say; but I will own that neither his manners -generally, nor his demeanor on that occasion, led me to think very -well of him, or to believe that he was of a forbearing or gentle -nature." - -"He has faults," said Mrs. Hazleton, dryly; "oh yes, he has faults, -but they are those of manner, more than heart or character--faults -produced by circumstances may be changed by circumstances--which would -never have existed, had he had, earlier, one judicious, kind, and -experienced friend to counsel and direct him. They are disappearing -rapidly, and, if ever he should fall under the influences of a -generous and noble spirit, will vanish altogether." - -She was preparing the way, skilfully exciting, as she saw, some -interest in Emily, and yet producing some alarm. - -"But still you do not explain," said the beautiful girl, anxiously; -"do not, dear Mrs. Hazleton, keep me longer in suspense." - -"I cannot--I ought not, Emily, to explain all to you," replied the -lady, "it would be a long and painful story; but this I may tell you, -and after that, ask me no more. That young man has your father's -fortunes and his fate entirely in his hands. He has forborne long. -Heaven grant that his forbearance may still endure." - -She ceased, and after one glance at Emily's face, she cast down her -eyes, and seemed to fall into thought. - -Emily gazed up towards the sky, as if seeking counsel there, and then, -bursting into tears, hurriedly quitted the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - -Emily's night was not peaceful. The very idea that her father's fate -was in the power of any other man, was, in itself, trouble enough; but -in the present case there was more. Why, or wherefore, she knew not; -but there was something told her that, in spite of all Mrs. Hazleton's -commendations, and the fair portrait she had so elaborately drawn, -John Ayliffe was not a man to use power mercifully. She tried eagerly -to discover what had created this impression: she thought of every -look and every word which she had seen upon the young man's -countenance, or heard from his lips; and she fixed at length more upon -the menacing scowl which she had marked upon his brow in the cottage, -than even upon the menacing language which he had held when her -father's name was mentioned. - -Sleep visited not her eyes for many an hour, and when at length her -eyes closed through fatigue, it was restless and dreamful. She fancied -she saw John Ayliffe holding Sir Philip on the ground, trying to -strangle him. She strove to scream for help, but her lips seemed -paralyzed, and there was no sound. That strange anguish of sleep--the -anguish of impotent strong will--of powerless passion--of effort -without effect, was upon her, and soon burst the bonds of slumber. It -would have been impossible to endure it long. All must have felt that -it is greater than any mortal agony; and that if he could endure more -than a moment, like a treacherous enemy it would slay us in our sleep. - -She awoke unrefreshed, and rose pale and sad. I cannot say that Mrs. -Hazleton, when she beheld Emily's changed look, felt any great -compunction. If she had no great desire to torture, which I will not -pretend to say, she did not at all object to see her victim suffer; -but Emily's pale cheek and distressed look afforded indications still -more satisfactory; which Mrs. Hazleton remarked with the satisfaction -of a philosopher watching a successful experiment. They showed that -the preparation she had made for what was coming, was even more -effectual than she had expected, and so the abstract pleasure of -inflicting pain on one she hated, was increased by the certainty of -success. - -Emily said little--referred not at all to the subject of her thoughts, -but dwelt upon it--pondered in silence. To one who knew her she might -have seemed sullen, sulky; but it was merely that one of those fits of -deep intense communion with the inner things of the heart--those -abstracted rambles through the mazy wilderness of thought, which -sometimes fell upon her, was upon her now. At these times it was very -difficult to draw her spirit forth into the waking world again--to -rouse her to the things about her life. It seemed as if her soul was -absent far away, and that the mere animal life of the body remained. -Great events might have passed before her eyes, without her knowing -aught of them. - -On all former occasions but one, these reveries--for so I must call -them--had been of a lighter and more pleasant nature. In them it -had seemed as if her young spirit had been tempted away from the -household paths of thought, far into tangled wilds where it had lost -itself--tempted, like other children, by the mere pleasure of the -ramble--led on to catch a butterfly, or chase the rainbow. -Feeling--passion, had not mingled with the dream at all, and -consequently there had been no suffering. I am not sure that on other -occasions, when such absent fits fell upon her, Emily Hastings was not -more joyous, more full of pure delight, than when, in a gay and -sparkling mood, she moved her father's wonder at what he thought light -frivolity. But now it was all bitter: the labyrinth was dark as well -as intricate, and the thorns tore her as she groped for some path -across the wilderness. - -Before it had lasted very long--before it had at all reached its -conclusion--and as she had sat at the window of the drawing-room, -gazing out upon the sky without seeing either white cloud or blue, Sir -Philip Hastings himself, on a short journey for some magisterial -purpose, entered the room, spoke a few words to Mrs. Hazleton, and -then turned to his daughter. Had he been half an hour later, Emily -would have cast her arms round his neck and told him all; but as it -was, she remained self-involved, even in his presence--answered indeed -mechanically--spoke words of affection with an absent air, and let the -mind still run on upon the path which it had chosen. - -Sir Philip had no time to stay till this fit was past, and Mrs. -Hazleton was glad to get rid of him civilly before any other act of -the drama began. - -But his daughter's mood did not escape Sir Philip's eyes. I have said -that for her he was full of observation, though he often read the -results wrongly; and now he marked Emily's mood with doubt, and not -with pleasure. "What can this mean?" he asked himself, "can any thing -have gone wrong? It is strange, very strange. Perhaps her mother was -right after all, and it might have been better to take her to the -capital." - -Thus thinking, Sir Philip himself fell into a reverie, not at all -unlike that in which he had found his daughter. Yet he understood not -hers, and pondered upon it as something strange and inextricable. - -In the mean time, Emily thought on, till at length Mrs. Hazleton -reminded her that they were to go that day to the Waterfall. She rose -mechanically, sought her room, dressed, and gazed from the window. - -It is wonderful, however, how small a thing will sometimes take the -mind, as it were, by the hand, and lead it back out of shadow into -sunshine. From the lawn below the window a light bird sprang up into -the air, quivered upon its twinkling wings, uttered a note or two, and -then soared higher, and each moment as it rose up, up, into the sky, -the song, like a spirit heavenward bound, grew stronger and more -strong, and flooded the air with melody. - -Emily watched it as it rose, listened to it as it sang. Its upward -flight seemed to carry her spirit above the dark things on which it -brooded; its thrilling voice to waken her to cheerful life again. -There is a high holiness in a lark's song; and hard must be the heart, -and strong and corrupt, that does not raise the voice and join with it -in its praise to God. - -When she went down again into the drawing-room, she was quite a -different being, and Mrs. Hazleton marvelled what could have happened -so to change her. Had she been told that it was a lark's song, she -would have laughed the speaker to scorn. She was not one to feel it. - -I will not pause upon the journey of the morning, nor describe the -beautiful fall of the river that they visited, or tell how it fell -rushing over the precipice, or how the rocks dashed it into diamond -sparkles, or how rainbows bannered the conflict of the waters, and -boughs waved over the struggling stream like plumes. It was a sweet -and pleasant sight, and full of meditation; and Mrs. Hazleton, judging -perhaps of others by herself, imagined that it would produce in the -mind of Emily those softening influences which teach the heart to -yield readily to the harder things of life. - -There is, perhaps, not a more beautiful, nor a more frequently -applicable allegory than that of the famous Amreeta Cup--I know not -whether devised by Southey, or borrowed by him from the rich store of -instructive fable hidden in oriental tradition. It is long, long, -since I read it; but yet every word is remembered whenever I see the -different effect which scenes, circumstances, and events produce upon -different characters. It is shown by the poet that the cup of divine -wine gave life and immortality, and excellence superhuman, and bliss -beyond belief, to the pure heart; but to the lark, earthly, and evil, -brought death, destruction, and despair. We may extend the lesson a -little, and see in the Amreeta wine, the spirit of God pervading all -his works, but producing in those who see and taste an effect, for -good or evil, according to the nature of the recipient. The strong, -powerful, self-willed, passionate character of Mrs. Hazleton, found, -in the calm meditative fall of the cataract, in the ever shifting play -of the wild waters, and in the watchful stillness of the air around, a -softening, enfeebling influence. The gentle character of Emily turned -from the scene with a heart raised rather than depressed, a spirit -better prepared to combat with evil and with sorrow, full of love and -trust in God, and a confidence strong beyond the strength of this -world. There is a voice of prophecy in waterfalls, and mountains, and -lakes, and streams, and sunny lands, and clouds, and storms, and -bright sunsets, and the face of nature every where, which tells the -destiny, not of one, but of many, and at all events, foreshows the -unutterable mercy reserved for those who trust. It is a prophecy--and -an exhortation too. The words are, "Be holy, and be happy!" The God -who speaks is true and glorious. Be true and inherit glory. - -Emily had been cheerful as they went. As they returned she was calm -and firm. Readily she joined in any conversation. Seldom did she fall -into any absent fit of thought, and the effect of that day's drive was -any thing but what Mrs. Hazleton expected or wished. - -When they returned to the house, a letter was delivered to Emily -Hastings, with which, the seal unbroken, she retired to her own room. -The hand was unknown to her, but with a sort of prescience something -more than natural, she divined at once from whom it came, and saw that -the difficult struggle had commenced. An hour or two before, the very -thought would have dismayed her. Now the effect was but small. - -She had no suspicion of the plans against her; no idea whatever that -people might be using her as a tool--that there was any interest -contrary to her own, in the conduct or management of others. But yet -she turned the key in the door before she commenced the perusal of the -letter, which was to the following effect: - -"I know not," said the writer, in a happier style than perhaps might -have been expected, "how to prevail upon your goodness to pardon all I -am going to say, knowing that nothing short of the circumstances in -which I am placed, could excuse my approaching you even in thought. I -have long known you, though you have known me only for a few short -hours. I have watched you often from childhood up to womanhood, and -there has been growing upon me from very early years a strong -attachment, a deep affection, a powerful--overpowering--ardent love, -which nothing can ever extinguish. Need I tell you that the last few -days would have increased that love had increase been possible. - -"All this, however, I know is no justification of my venturing to -raise my thoughts to you--still less of my venturing to express these -feelings boldly; but it has been an excuse to myself, and in some -degree to others, for abstaining hitherto from that which my best -interests, a mother's fame, and my own rights, required. The time has -now come when I can no longer remain silent; when I must throw upon -you the responsibility of an important choice; when I am forced to -tell you how deeply, how devotedly, I love you, in order that you may -say whether you will take the only means of saving me from the most -painful task I ever undertook, by conferring on me the greatest -blessing that woman ever gave to man; or, on the other hand, will -drive me to a task repugnant to all my feelings, but just, necessary, -inevitable, in case of your refusal. Let me explain, however, that I -am your cousin--the son of your father's elder brother by a private -marriage with a peasant girl of this county. The whole case is -perfectly clear, and I have proof positive of the marriage in my -hands. From fear of a lawsuit, and from the pressure of great poverty, -my mother was induced to sacrifice her rights after her husband's -early death, still to conceal her marriage, to bear even sneers and -shame, and to live upon a pittance allowed to her by her husband's -father, and secured to her by him after his own death, when she was -entitled to honor, and birth, and distinction by the law of the land. - -"One of her objects, doubtless, was to secure to herself and her son a -moderate competence, as the late Sir John Hastings, my grandfather and -yours, had the power of leaving all his estates to any one he pleased, -the entail having ended with himself. For this she sacrificed her -rights, her name, her fame, and you will find, if you look into your -grandfather's will, that he took especial care that no infraction of -the contract between him and her father should give cause for the -assertion of her rights. Two or three mysterious clauses in that will -will show you at once, if you read them, that the whole tale I tell -you is correct, and that Sir John Hastings, on the one hand, paid -largely, and on the other threatened sternly, in order to conceal the -marriage of his eldest son, and transmit the title to the second. But -my mother could not bar me of my rights: she could endure unmerited -shame for pecuniary advantages, if she pleased; but she could not -entail shame upon me; and were it in the power of any one to deprive -me of that which Sir John Hastings left me, or to shut me out from the -succession to his whole estates, to which--from the fear of disclosing -his great secret--he did not put any bar in his will that would have -been at once an acknowledgment of my legitimacy, I would still -sacrifice all, and stand alone, friendless and portionless in the -world, rather than leave my mother's fame and my own birth -unvindicated. This is one of the strongest desires, the most -overpowering impulses of my heart; and neither you nor any one could -expect me to resist it. But there is yet a stronger still--not an -impulse, but a passion, and to that every thing must yield. It is -love; and whatever may be the difference which you see between -yourself and me, however inferior I may feel myself to you in all -those qualities which I myself the most admire, still, I feel myself -justified in placing the case clearly before you--in telling you how -truly, how sincerely, how ardently I love you, and in asking you -whether you will deign to favor my suit even now as I stand, to save -me the pain and grief of contending with the father of her I love, the -anguish of stripping him of the property he so well uses, and of the -rank which he adorns; or will leave me to establish my rights, to take -my just name and station, and then, when no longer appearing humble -and unknown, to plead my cause with no less humility than I do at -present. - -"That I shall do so then, as now, rest assured--that I would do so if -the rank and station to which I have a right were a principality, do -not doubt; but I would fain, if it were possible, avoid inflicting any -pain upon your father. I know not how he may bear the loss of station -and of fortune--I know not what effect the struggles of a court of -law, and inevitable defeat may produce. Only acquainted with him by -general repute, I cannot tell what may be the effect of mortification -and the loss of all he has hitherto enjoyed. He has the reputation of -a good, a just, and a wise man, somewhat vehement in feeling, somewhat -proud of his position. You must judge him, rather than I; but, I -beseech you, consider him in this matter. - -"At any time, and at all times, my love will be the same--nothing can -change me--nothing can alter or affect the deep love I bear you. When -casting from me the cloud which had hung upon my birth, when assuming -the rank and taking possession of the property that is my own, I shall -still love you as devotedly as ever--still as earnestly seek your -hand. But oh! how I long to avoid all the pangs, the mischances, the -anxieties to every one, the ill feeling, the contention, the -animosity, which must ever follow such a struggle as that between your -father and myself--oh, how I long to owe every thing to you, even the -station, even the property, even the fair name that is my own by right -Nay, more, far more, to owe you guidance and direction--to owe you -support and instruction--to owe you all that may improve, and purify, -and elevate me. - -"Oh, Emily, dear cousin, let me be your debtor in all things. You who -first gave me the thought of rising above fate, and making myself -worthy of the high fortunes which I have long known awaited me, -perfect your work, redeem me for ever from all that is unworthy, save -me from bitter regrets, and your father from disappointment, sorrow, -and poverty, and render me all that I long to be. - -"Yours, and forever, - -"JOHN HASTINGS." - - -Very well done, Mrs. Hazleton!--but somewhat too well done. There was -a difference, a difference so striking, so unaccountable, between the -style of this letter, both in thought and composition, and the -ordinary style and manners of John Ayliffe, that it could not fail to -strike the eyes of Emily. For a moment she felt a little confused--not -undecided. There was no hesitation, no doubt, as to her own conduct. -For an instant it crossed her mind that this young man had deeper, -finer feelings in his nature than appeared upon the surface--that his -manner might be more in fault than his nature. But there were things -in the letter itself which she did not like--that, without any labored -analysis or deep-searching criticism, brought to her mind the -conviction that the words, the arguments, the inducements employed -were those of art rather than of feeling--that the mingling of threats -towards her father, however veiled, with professions of love towards -herself, was in itself ungenerous--that the objects and the means were -not so high-toned as the professions--that there was something sordid, -base, ignoble in the whole proceeding. It required no careful thought -to arrive at such a conclusion--no second reading--and her mind was -made up at once. - -The deep reverie into which she had fallen in the morning had done her -good--it had disentangled thought, and left the heart and judgment -clear. The fair, natural scene she had passed through since, the -intercourse with God's works, had done her still more good--refreshed, -and strengthened, and elevated the spirit; and after a very brief -pause she drew the table towards her, sat down, and wrote. As she did -write, she thought of her father, and she believed from her heart that -the words she used were those which he would wish her to employ. They -were to the following effect: - -"Sir: Your letter, as you may suppose, has occasioned me great pain, -and the more so, as I am compelled to say, not only that I cannot -return your affection now, but can hold out no hope to you of ever -returning it. I am obliged to speak decidedly, as I should consider -myself most base if I could for one moment trifle with feelings such -as those which you express. - -"In regard to your claims upon my father's estates, and to the rank -which he believes himself to hold by just right, I can form no -judgment; and could have wished that they had never been mentioned to -me before they had been made known to him. - -"I never in my life knew my father do an unjust or ungenerous thing, -and I am quite sure that if convinced another had a just title to all -that he possesses on earth, he would strip himself of it as readily as -he would of a soiled garment. My father would disdain to hold for an -hour the rightful property of another. You have therefore only to lay -your reasons before him, and you may be sure that they will have just -consideration and yourself full justice. I trust that you will do so -soon, as to give the first intelligence of such claims would be too -painful a task for - -"Your faithful servant, - -"EMILY HASTINGS." - - -She read her letter over twice, and was satisfied with it. Sealing it -carefully, she gave it to her own maid for despatch, and then paused -for a moment, giving way to some temporary curiosity as to who could -have aided in the composition of the letter she had received, for John -Ayliffe's alone she could not and would not believe it to be. She cast -such thoughts from her very speedily, however, and, strange to say, -her heart seemed lightened now that the moment of trial had come and -gone, now that a turning-point in her fate seemed to have passed. - -Mrs. Hazleton was surprised to see her re-enter the drawing-room with -a look of relief. She saw that the matter was decided, but she was too -wise to conclude that it was decided according to her wishes. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - -Marlow reasoned with his own heart. For the first time in his life it -had proved rebellious. It would have its own way. It would give no -account of its conduct,--why it had beat so, why it had thrilled so, -why it had experienced so many changes of feeling when he saw John -Ayliffe sitting beside Emily Hastings, and when Emily Hastings had -risen with so joyous a smile to greet him--it would not explain at -all. And now he argued the point with it systematically, with a -determination to get to the bottom of the matter one way or another. -He asked it, as if it had been a separate individual, if it was in -love with Emily Hastings. The question was too direct, and the heart -said it "rather thought not." - -Was it quite sure? he asked again. The heart was silent, and seemed to -be considering. Was it jealous? he inquired. "Oh dear no, not in the -least." - -Then why did it go on in such a strange, capricious, unaccountable -way, when a good-looking, vulgar young man was seen sitting beside -Emily? - -The heart said it "could not tell; that it was its nature to do so." - -Marlow was not to be put off. He was determined to know more, and he -argued, "If it be your nature to do so, you of course do the same when -you see other young men sitting by other young women." The heart was -puzzled, and did not reply; and then Marlow begged a definite answer -to this question. "If you were to hear to-morrow that Emily Hastings -is going to be married to this youth, or to any other man, young or -old, what would you do then?" - -"Break!" said the heart, and Marlow asked no more questions. Knowing -how dangerous it is to enter into such interrogations on horseback, -when the pulse is accelerated and the nervous system all in a flutter, -he had waited till he got into his own dwelling, and seated himself in -his chair, that he might deal with the rebellious spirit in his breast -stately, and calmly likewise; but as he came to the end of the -conversation, he rose up, resolving to order a fresh horse, and ride -instantly away, to confer with Sir Philip Hastings. In so doing he -looked round the room. It was not very well or very fully furnished. -The last proprietor before Mrs. Hazleton had not been very fond of -books, and had never thought of a library. When Marlow brought his own -books down he had ordered some cases to be made by a country -carpenter, which fitted but did not much ornament the room. They gave -it a raw, desolate aspect, and made him, by a natural projection of -thought, think ill of the accommodation of the whole house, as soon as -he began to entertain the idea of Emily Hastings ever becoming its -mistress. Then he went on to ask himself, "What have I to offer for -the treasure of her hand? What have I to offer but the hand of a very -simple, undistinguished country gentleman--quite, quite unworthy of -her? What have I to offer Sir Philip Hastings as an alliance worthy of -even his consideration?--A good, unstained name; but no rank, and a -fortune not above mediocrity. Marry! a fitting match for the heiress -of the Hastings and Marshall families." - -He gazed around him, and his heart fell. - -A little boy, with a pair of wings on his shoulders, and the end of a -bow peeping up near his neck, stood close behind Marlow, and whispered -in his ear, "Never mind all that--only try." - -And Marlow resolved he would try; but yet he hesitated how to do so. -Should he go himself to Sir Philip? But he feared a rebuff. Should he -write? No, that was cowardly. Should he tell his love to Emily first, -and strive to win her affections, ere he breathed to her father? No, -that would be dishonest, if he had a doubt of her father's consent. At -length he made up his mind to go in person to Sir Philip, but the -discussion and the consideration had been so long that it was too late -to ride over that night, and the journey was put off till the -following day. That day, as early as possible, he set out. He called -it as early as possible, and it was early for a visit; but the moment -one fears a rebuff from any lady one grows marvellously punctilious. -When his horse was brought round he began to fancy that he should be -too soon for Sir Philip, and he had the horse walked up and down for -half an hour. - -What would he have given for that half hour, when, on reaching Sir -Philip's door, he found that Emily's father had gone out, and was not -expected back till late in the day. Angry with himself, and a good -deal disappointed, he returned to his home, which, somehow, looked far -less cheerful than usual. He could take no pleasure in his books, or -in his pictures, and even thought was unpleasant to him, for under the -influence of expectation it became but a calculation of chances, for -which he had but scanty data. One thing, indeed, he learned from the -passing of that evening, which was, that home and home happiness was -lost to him henceforth without Emily Hastings. - -The following day saw him early in the saddle, and riding away as if -some beast of the chase were before him. Indeed, man's love, when it -is worth any thing, has always a smack of the hunter in it. He cared -not for highlands or bypaths--hedges and ditches offered small -impediments. Straight across the country he went, till he approached -the end of his journey; but then he suddenly pulled in his rein, and -began to ask himself if he was a madman. He was passing over the -Marshall property at the time, the inheritance of Emily's mother, and -the thought of all that she was heir to cooled his ardor with doubt -and apprehension. He would have given one half of all that he -possessed that she had been a peasant-girl, that he might have lived -with her upon the other. - -Then he began to think of all that he should say to Sir Philip -Hastings, and how he should say it; and he felt very uneasy in his -mind. Then he was angry with himself for his own sensations, and tried -philosophy and scolded his own heart. But philosophy and scolding had -no effect; and then cantering easily through the park, he stopped at -the gate of the house and dismounted. - -Sir Philip was in this time; and Marlow was ushered into the little -room where he sat in the morning, with the library hard by, that he -might have his books at hand. But Sir Philip was not reading now; on -the contrary, he was in a fit of thought; and, if one might judge by -the contraction of his brow, and the drawing down of the corners of -his lips, it was not a very pleasant one. - -Marlow fancied that he had come at an inauspicious moment, and the -first words of Sir Philip, though kind and friendly, were not at all -harmonious with the feeling of love in his young visitor's heart. - -"Welcome, my young friend," he said, looking up. "I have been thinking -this morning over the laws and habits of different nations, ancient -and modern; and would fain satisfy myself if I am right in the -conclusion that we, in this land, leave too little free action to -individual judgment. No man, we say, must take law in his own hands; -yet how often do we break this rule--how often are we compelled to -break it. If you, with a gun in your hand, saw a man at fifty or sixty -paces about to murder a child or a woman, without any means of -stopping the blow except by using your weapon, what would you do?" - -"Shoot him on the spot," replied Marlow at once, and then added, "if I -were quite certain of his intention." - -"Of course--of course," replied Sir Philip. "And yet, my good friend, -if you did so, without witnesses---supposing the child too young to -testify, or the woman sleeping at whom the blow was aimed--you would -be hung for your just, wise, charitable act." - -"Perhaps so," said Marlow, abruptly; "but I would do it, -nevertheless." - -"Right, right," replied Sir Philip, rising and shaking his hand; -"right, and like yourself! There are cases when, with a clear -consciousness of the rectitude of our purpose, and a strong confidence -in the justice of our judgment, we must step over all human laws, be -the result to ourselves what it may. Do you remember a man--one -Cutter--to whom you taught a severe lesson on the very first day I had -the pleasure of knowing you? I should have been undoubtedly justified, -morally, and perhaps even legally also, in sending my sword through -his body, when he attacked me that day. Had I done so I should have -saved a valuable human life, spared the world the spectacle of a great -crime, and preserved an excellent husband and father to his wife and -children. That very man has murdered the game-keeper of the Earl of -Selby; and being called to the spot yesterday, I had to commit him for -that crime, upon evidence which left not a doubt of his guilt. I -spared him when he assaulted me from a weak and unworthy feeling of -compassion, although I knew the man's character, and dimly foresaw his -career. I have regretted it since; but never so much as yesterday. -This, of course, is no parallel case to that which I just now -proposed; but the one led my mind to the other." - -"Did the wretched man admit his guilt?" asked Marlow. - -"He did not, and could not deny it," answered Sir Philip; "during the -examination he maintained a hard, sullen silence; and only said, when -I ordered his committal, that I ought not to be so hard upon him for -that offence, as it was the best service he could have done me; for -that he had silenced a man whose word could strip me of all I -possessed." - -"What could he mean?" asked Marlow, eagerly. - -"Nay, I know not," replied Sir Philip, in an indifferent tone; -"crushed vipers often turn to bite. The man he killed was the son of -the former sexton here--an honest, good creature too, for whom I -obtained his place; his murderer a reckless villain, on whose word -there is no dependence. Let us give no thought to it. He has held some -such language before; but it never produced a fear that my property -would be lost, or even diminished. We do not hold our fee simples on -the tenure of a rogue's good pleasure--why do you smile?" - -"For what will seem at first sight a strange, unnatural reason for a -friend to give, Sir Philip," replied Marlow, determined not to lose -the opportunity; "for your own sake and for your country's, I am bound -to hope that your property may never be lost or diminished; but every -selfish feeling would induce me to wish it were less than it is." - -Sir Philip Hastings was no reader of riddles, and he looked puzzled; -but Marlow walked frankly round and took him by the hand, saying, "I -have not judged it right, Sir Philip, to remain one day after I -discovered what are my feelings towards your daughter, without -informing you fully of their nature, that you may at once decide upon -your future demeanor towards one to whom you have hitherto shown much -kindness, and who would on no account abuse it. I was not at all aware -of how this passion had grown upon me, till the day before yesterday, -when I saw your daughter at Mrs. Hazleton's, and some accidental -circumstance revealed to me the state of my own heart." - -Sir Philip looked as if surprised; but after a moment's thought, he -inquired, "And what says Emily, my young friend?" - -"She says nothing, Sir Philip," replied Marlow; "for neither by word -nor look, as far as I know, have I betrayed my own feelings towards -her. I would not, between us, do so, till I had given you an -opportunity of deciding, unfettered by any consideration for her, -whether you would permit me to pursue my suit or not." - -Sir Philip was in a reasoning mood that day, and he tortured Marlow by -asking, "And would you always think it necessary, Marlow, to obtain a -parent's consent, before you endeavored to gain the affection of a -girl you loved?" - -"Not always," replied the young man; "but I should think it always -necessary to violate no confidence, Sir Philip. You have been kind to -me--trusted me--had no doubt of me; and to say one word to Emily which -might thwart your plans or meet your disapproval, would be to show -myself unworthy of your esteem or her affection." - -Sir Philip mused, and then said, as if speaking to himself, "I had -some idea this might turn out so, but not so soon. I fancy, however," -he continued, addressing Marlow, "that you must have betrayed your -feelings more than you thought, my young friend; for yesterday I found -Emily in a strange, thoughtful, abstracted mood, showing that some -strong feelings were busy at her heart." - -"Some other cause," said Marlow quickly; "I cannot even flatter myself -that she was thinking of me. When I saw her the day before, there was -a young man sitting with her and Mrs. Hazleton--John Ayliffe, I think, -is his name--and I will own I thought his presence seemed to annoy -her." - -"John Ayliffe at Mrs. Hazleton's!" exclaimed Sir Philip, his brow -growing very dark; "John Ayliffe in my daughter's society! Well might -the poor child look thoughtful--and yet why should she? She knows -nothing of his history. What is he like, Marlow--how does he bear -himself?" - -"He is certainly handsome, with fine features and a good figure," -replied Marlow; "indeed, it struck me that there was some resemblance -between him and yourself; but there is a want I cannot well define in -his appearance, Sir Philip--in his air--in his carriage, whether still -or in motion, which fixes upon him what I am accustomed to call a -class-mark, and that not of the best. Depend upon it, however, that it -was annoyance at being brought into society which she disliked that -affected your daughter as you have mentioned. My love for her she is, -and must be, ignorant of; for I stayed there but a few minutes; and -before that day, I saw it not myself. And now, Sir Philip, what say -you to my suit? May I--as some of your words lead me to hope--may I -pursue that suit and strive to win your dear daughter's love?" - -"Of course," replied Sir Philip, "of course. A vague fancy has long -been floating in my brain, that it might be so some day. She is too -young to marry yet; and it will be sad to part with her when the time -does come; but you have my consent to seek her affection if she can -give it you. She must herself decide." - -"Have you considered fully," asked Marlow, "that I have neither -fortune nor rank to offer her, that I am by no means--" - -Sir Philip waved his hand almost impatiently. "What skills it talking -of rank or wealth?" he said. "You are a gentleman by birth, education, -manners. You have easy competence. My Emily will desire no more for -herself, and I can desire no more for her. You will endeavor, I know, -to make her happy, and will succeed, because you love her. As for -myself, were I to choose out of all the men I know, you would be the -man. Fortune is a good adjunct; but it is no essential. I do not -promise her to you. That she must do; but if she says she will give -you her hand, it shall be yours." - -Marlow thanked him, with joy such as may be conceived; but Sir -Philip's thoughts reverted at once to his daughter's situation at Mrs. -Hazleton's. "She must stay there no longer, Marlow," he said; "I will -send for her home without delay. Then you will have plenty of -opportunity for the telling of your own tale to her ear, and seeing -how you may speed with her; but, at all events, she must stay no -longer in a house where she can meet with John Ayliffe. Mrs. Hazleton -makes me marvel--a woman so proud--so refined!" - -"It is but justice to say," replied Marlow, thoughtfully, "that I have -some vague recollection of Mrs. Hazleton having intimated that they -met that young gentleman by chance upon some expedition of pleasure. -But had I not better communicate my hopes and wishes to Lady Hastings, -my dear sir?" - -"That is not needful," replied Emily's father, somewhat sternly; "I -promise her to you, if she herself consents. My good wife will not -oppose my wishes or my daughter's happiness; for do I suffer -opposition upon occasions of importance. I will tell Lady Hastings my -determination myself." - -Marlow was too wise to say another word, but agreed to come on the -following day to dine and sleep at the hall, and took his leave for -the time. It was not, indeed, without some satisfaction that he heard -Sir Philip order a horse to be saddled and a man to prepare to carry a -letter to Mrs. Hazleton; for doubts were rapidly possessing themselves -of his mind--not in regard to Emily--but in reference to Mrs. Hazleton -herself. - -The letter was dispatched immediately after his departure, recalling -Emily to her father's house, and announcing that the carriage would be -sent for her early on the following morning. That done, Sir Philip -repaired to his wife's drawing-room, and informed her that he had -given his consent to his young friend Marlow's suit to their daughter. -His tone was one that admitted no reply, and Lady Hastings made none; -but she entered her protest quite as well, by falling into a violent -fit of hysterics. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - -In a very gaudily furnished parlor, and in a very gaudy dress, sat a -lady of some eight or nine and thirty years of age, with many traces -of beauty still to be perceived in a face of no very intellectual -expression. Few persons perhaps would have recognized in her the fair -and faulty girl whom we have depicted weeping bitterly over the fate -of Sir Philip Hastings' elder brother, and over the terrible situation -in which he left her. Her features had much changed: the girlish -expression--the fresh bloom of youth was gone. The light graceful -figure was lost; but the mind had changed as greatly as the person, -though, like it, the heart yet retained some traces of the original. -When first she appeared before the reader's eyes, though weak and -yielding, she was by no means ill disposed. She had committed an -error--a great and fatal one; but at heart she was innocent and -honest. She was, however, like all weak people, of that plastic clay -moulded easily by circumstances into any form; and, in her, -circumstances had shaped her gradually into a much worse form than -nature had originally given her. To defraud, to cheat, to wrong, had -at one time been most abhorrent to her nature. She had taken no active -part in her father's dealings with old Sir John Hastings, and had she -known all that he had said and sworn, would have shrunk with horror -from the deceit. But during her father's short life, she had been -often told by himself, and after his death had been often assured by -the old woman Denby, that she was rightly and truly the widow of John -Hastings, although because it would be difficult to prove, her father -had consented to take an annuity for himself and her son, rather than -enter into a lawsuit with a powerful man; and she had gradually -brought herself to believe that she had been her lover's wife, because -in one of his ardent letters he had called her so to stifle the voice -of remorse in her bosom. The conviction had grown upon her, till now, -after a lapse of more than twenty years, she had forgotten all her -former doubts and scruples, believed herself and her son to be injured -and deprived of their just rights, and was ready to assert her -marriage boldly, though she had at one time felt and acknowledged that -there was no marriage at all, and that the words her seducer had used -were but intended to soothe her regret and terror. There was a point -however beyond which she was not prepared to go. She still shrunk from -giving false details, from perjuring herself in regard to particular -facts. The marriage, she thought, might be good in the sight of -heaven, of herself, and of her lover; but to render it good in the -eyes of the law, she had found would require proofs that she could not -give--oaths that she dared not take. - -Another course, however, had been proposed for her; and now she sat in -that small parlor gaudily dressed, as I have said, but dressed -evidently for a journey. There were tears indeed in her eyes; and as -her son stood by her side she looked up in his face with a beseeching -look as if she would fain have said, "Pray do not drive me to this!" - -But young John Ayliffe had no remorse, and if he spoke tenderly to her -who had spoiled his youth, it was only because his object was to -persuade and cajole. - -"Indeed, mother," he said, "it is absolutely necessary or I would not -ask you to go. You know quite well that I would rather have you here: -and it will only be for a short time till the trial is over. Lawyer -Shanks told you himself that if you stayed, they would have you into -court and cross-examine you to death; and you know quite well you -could not keep in one story if they browbeat and puzzled you." - -"I would say any where that my marriage was a good one," replied his -mother, "but I could not swear all that Shanks would have had me, -John--No, I could not swear that, for Dr. Paulding had nothing to do -with it, and if he were to repeat it all over to me a thousand times, -I am sure that I should make a blunder, even if I consented to tell -such a falsehood. My father and good Mrs. Danby used always to say -that the mutual consent made a marriage, and a good one too. Now your -father's own letter shows that he consented to it, and God knows I -did. But these lawyers will not let well alone, and by trying to mend -things make them worse, I think. However, I suppose you have gone too -far to go back; and so I must go to a strange out of the way country -and hide myself and live quite lonely. Well, I am ready--I am ready to -make any sacrifice for you, my boy--though it is very hard, I must -say." - -As she spoke, she rose with her eyes running over, and her son kissed -her and assured her that her absence should not be long. But just as -she was moving towards the door, he put a paper--a somewhat long -one--on the table, where a pen was already in the inkstand, saying, -"just sign this before you go, dear mother." - -"Oh, I cannot sign any thing," cried the lady, wiping her eyes; "how -can you be so cruel, John, as to ask me to sign any thing just now -when I am parting with you? What is it you want? - -"It is only a declaration that you are truly my father's widow," said -John Ayliffe; "see here, the declaration, &c., you need not read it, -but only just sign here." - -She hesitated an instant; but his power over her was complete; and, -though, she much doubted the contents, she signed the paper with a -trembling hand. Then came a parting full of real tenderness on her -part, and assumed affection and regret on his. The post-chaise, which -had been standing for an hour at the door, rolled away, and John -Ayliffe walked back into the house. - -When there, he walked up and down the room for some time, with an -impatient thoughtfulness, if I may use the term, in his looks, which -had little to do with his mother's departure. He was glad that she was -gone--still gladder that she had signed the paper; and now he seemed -waiting for something eagerly expected. - -At length there came a sound of a quick trotting horse, and John -Ayliffe took the paper from the table hastily, and put it in his -pocket But the visitor was not the one he expected. It was but a -servant with a letter; and as the young man took it from the hand of -the maid who brought it in, and gazed at the address, his cheek -flushed a little, and then turned somewhat pale. He muttered to -himself, "she has not taken long to consider!" - -As soon as the slipshod girl had gone out of the room, he broke the -seal and read the brief answer which Emily had returned to his -declaration. - -It would not be easy for an artist to paint, and it is impossible for -a writer to describe, the expression which came upon his face as he -perused the words of decided rejection which were written on that -sheet; but certainly, had poor Emily heard how he cursed her, how he -vowed to have revenge, and to humble her pride, as he called it, she -would have rejoiced rather than grieved that such a man had obtained -no hold upon her affection, no command of her fate. He was still in -the midst of his tempest of passion, when, without John Ayliffe being -prepared for his appearance, Mr. Shanks entered the room. His face -wore a dark and somewhat anxious expression which even habitual -cunning could not banish; but the state in which he found his young -client, seemed to take him quite by surprise. - -"Why what is the matter, John?" he cried, "What in the name of fortune -has happened here?" - -"What has happened!" exclaimed John Ayliffe, "look there," and he -handed Mr. Shanks the letter. The attorney took it, and with his keen -weazel eyes read it as deliberately as he would have read an ordinary -law paper. He then handed it back to his young client, saying, "The -respondent does not put in a bad answer." - -"Damn the respondent," said John Ayliffe, "but she shall smart for -it." - -"Well, well, this cannot be helped," rejoined Mr. Shanks; "no need of -putting yourself in a passion. You don't care two straws about her, -and if you get the property without the girl so much the better. You -can then have the pick of all the pretty women in the country." - -John Ayliffe mused gloomily; for Mr. Shanks was not altogether right -in his conclusion as to the young man's feelings towards Emily. -Perhaps when he began the pursuit he cared little about its success, -but like other beasts of prey, he had become eager as he ran--desire -had arisen in the chase--and, though mortified vanity had the greatest -share in his actual feelings, he felt something beyond that. - -While he mused, Mr. Shanks was musing also, calculating results -and combinations; but at length he said, in a low tone, "Is she -gone?--Have you got that accomplished?" - -"Gone?--Yes.--Do you mean my mother?--Damn it, yes!--She is gone, to -be sure.--Didn't you meet her?" - -"No," said Mr. Shanks; "I came the other way. That is lucky, however. -But harkee, John--something very unpleasant has happened, and we must -take some steps about it directly; for if they work him well, that -fellow is likely to peach." - -"Who?--what the devil are you talking about?" asked John Ayliffe, with -his passion still unsubdued. - -"Why, that blackguard whom you would employ--Master Tom Cutter," -answered Mr. Shanks. "You know I always set my face against it, John; -and now--" - -"Peach!" cried John Ayliffe, "Tom Cutter will no more peach than he'll -fly in the air. He's not of the peaching sort." - -"Perhaps not, where a few months' imprisonment are concerned," -answered Mr. Shanks; "but the matter here is his neck, and that makes -a mighty difference, let me tell you. Now listen to me, John, and -don't interrupt me till I've done; for be sure that we have got into a -very unpleasant mess, which we may have some difficulty in getting out -of. You sent over Tom Cutter, to see if he could not persuade young -Scantling, Lord Selby's gamekeeper, to remember something about the -marriage, when he was with his old father the sexton. Now, how he and -Tom manage their matters, I don't know; but Tom gave him a lick on the -head with a stick, which killed him on the spot. As the devil would -have it, all this was seen by two people, a laborer working in a ditch -hard by, and Scantling's son, a boy of ten years old. The end of it -is, Tom was instantly pursued, and apprehended; your good uncle, Sir -John, was called to take the depositions, and without any remand -whatever, committed our good friend for trial. Tom's only chance is to -prove that it was a case of chance-medley, or to bring it under -manslaughter, as a thing done in a passion, and if he thinks that -being employed by you will be any defence, or will show that it was a -sudden burst of rage, without premeditation, he will tell the whole -story as soon as he would eat his dinner." - -"I'll go over to him directly, and tell him to hold his tongue," cried -John Ayliffe, now fully awakened to the perils of the case. - -"Pooh, pooh! don't be a fool," said Mr. Shanks, contemptuously. "Are -you going to let the man see that you are afraid of him--that he has -got you in his power? Besides, they will not let you in. No, the way -must be this. I must go over to him as his legal adviser, and I can -dress you up as my clerk. That will please him, to find that we do not -abandon him; and we must contrive to turn his defence quite another -way, whether he hang for it or not. We must make it out that Scantling -swore he had been poaching, when he had done nothing of the kind, and -that in the quarrel that followed, he struck the blow accidentally. We -can persuade him that this is his best defence, which perhaps it is -after all, for nobody can prove that he was poaching, inasmuch as he -really was not; whereas, if he were to show that he killed a man while -attempting to suborn evidence, he would speedily find himself under a -crossbeam." - -"Suborn evidence," muttered John Ayliffe to himself; for though ready -to do any act that might advance his purpose, he did not like to hear -it called by its right name. - -However that might be, he agreed to the course proposed by the -attorney, and it was determined that, waiting for the fall of night, -they should both go over to the prison together, and demand admittance -to the felon's cell. The conversation then reverted to Emily's -distinct rejection of the young man's suit, and long did the two -ponder over it, considering what might be the effect upon the plans -they were pursuing. - -"It may hurry us desperately," said Mr. Shanks, at length, "unless we -can get her to hold her tongue; for depend upon it, as soon as Sir -Philip hears what we are doing, he will take his measures accordingly. -Don't you think you and Mrs. Hazleton together can manage to frighten -her into silence? If I were you, I would get upon my horse's back -directly, ride over, and see what can be done. Your fair friend there -will give you every help, depend upon it." - -John Ayliffe smiled. "I will see," he said. "Mrs. Hazleton is very -kind about it, and I dare say will help, for I am quite sure she has -got some purpose of her own to serve." - -The attorney grinned, but made no answer, and in the space of a -quarter of an hour, John Ayliffe was on the road to Mrs. Hazleton's -dwelling. - -After quarter of an hour's private conversation with the lady of the -house, he was admitted to the room in which Emily sat, unconscious of -his being there. She was displeased and alarmed at seeing him, but his -words and his conduct after he entered, frightened and displeased her -still more. He demanded secrecy in a stern and peremptory tone, and -threatened with vague, but not ill-devised menaces, to be the ruin of -her father and his whole house, if she breathed one word of what had -taken place between them. He sought, moreover, to obtain from her a -promise of secrecy; but that Emily would on no account give, although -he terrified her greatly; and he left her still in doubt as to whether -his secret was safe or not. - -With Mrs. Hazleton he held another conference, but from her he -received better assurances. "Do not be afraid," she said; "I will -manage it for you. She shall not betray you--at least for a time. -However, you had better proceed as rapidly as possible, and if the -means of pursuing your claim be necessary--I mean in point of -money--have no scruple in applying to me." - -Putting on an air of queenly dignity, Mrs. Hazleton proceeded in -search of Emily, as soon as the young man was gone. She found her in -tears; and sitting down by her side, she took her hand in a kindly -manner, saying, "My dear child, I am very sorry for all this, but it -is really in some degree your own fault. Nay, you need not explain any -thing. I have just had young Ayliffe with me. He has told me all, and -I have dismissed him with a sharp rebuke. If you had confided to me -last night that he had proposed to you, and you had rejected him, I -would have taken care that he should not have admittance to you. -Indeed, I am surprised that he should presume to propose at all, -without longer acquaintance. But he seems to have agitated and -terrified you much. What did he want?" - -"He endeavored to make me promise," replied Emily, "that I would not -tell my father, or any one, of what had occurred." - -"Foolish boy! he might have taken that for granted," replied Mrs. -Hazleton, forgetting for an instant what she had just said. "No woman -of any delicacy ever speaks of a matter of this kind, when once she -has taken upon herself to reject a proposal unconditionally. If she -wishes for advice," continued the lady, recollecting herself, "or -thinks that the suit may be pressed improperly, of course she's free -to ask counsel and assistance of some female friend, on whom she can -depend. But the moment the thing is decided, of course, she is silent -for ever; for nothing can be more a matter of honorable confidence -than an avowal of honorable love. I will write him a note, and tell -him he is in no danger, but warn him not to present himself here -again, so long as you are with me." - -Emily made no answer, trying to decide in her own mind whether Mrs. -Hazleton's reasoning was right; and that lady, choosing to take her -assent for granted, from her silence, hurried away, to give her no -opportunity for retracting. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - - -Before the door of a large brick building, with no windows towards the -street, and tall walls rising up till they overtopped the neighboring -houses, stood two men, about an hour after night had fallen, waiting -for admittance. The great large iron bar which formed the knocker of -the door, had descended twice with a heavy thump, but yet no one -appeared in answer to the summons. It was again in the hand of Mr. -Shanks and ready to descend, when the rattling of keys was heard -inside; bolts were withdrawn and bars cast down, and one half of the -door opened, displaying a man with a lantern, which he held up to gaze -at his visitors. His face was fat and bloated, covered with a good -number of spots, and his swollen eyelids made his little keen black -eyes look smaller than they even naturally were, while his nose, much -in the shape of a horse-chestnut, blushed with the hues of the early -morning. - -"How are you, Cram, how are you?" asked the attorney. "I haven't been -here for a long time, but you know me, I suppose." - -"Oh, yes, I know you, Master Shanks," replied the jailer, winking one -of his small black eyes; "who have you come to see? Betty Diaper, I'll -warrant, who prigged the gentleman's purse at the bottom of the hill. -She's as slink a diver as any on the lay; but she's got the shiners -and so must have counsel to defend her before the beak, I'll bet a -gallon." - -"No, no," answered Mr. Shanks, "our old friend Tom Cutter wants to see -me on this little affair of his." - -"You'll make no hand of that, as sure a my name's Dionysius Cram," -replied the jailer. "Can't prove an _alibi_ there, Master Shanks, for -I saw him do the job; besides he can't pay. What's the use of meddling -with him? He must swing some time you know, and one day's as good as -another. But come in, Master Shanks, come in. But who's this here -other chap?" - -"That's my clerk," replied Mr. Shanks, "I may want him to take -instructions." - -The man laughed, but demurred, but a crown piece was in those days the -key to all jailers' hearts, and after a show of hesitation, Shanks and -his young companion were both admitted within the gates. They now -found themselves in a small square space, guarded on two sides by tall -iron railings, which bent overhead, and were let into the wall -somewhat after the manner of a birdcage. On the left-hand side, -however, was another brick wall, with a door and some steps leading up -to it. By this entrance Mr. Dionysius Cram led them into a small -jailer's lodge, with a table and some wooden chairs, in the side of -which, opposite to the entrance, was a strong movable grate, between -the bars of which might be seen a yawning sort of chasm leading into -the heart of the prison. - -Again Mr. Cram's great keys were put in motion, and he opened the -grate to let them pass, eyeing John Ayliffe with considerable -attention as he did so. Locking the grate carefully behind him, he -lighted them on with his lantern, muttering as he went in the peculiar -prison slang of those days, various sentences not very complimentary -to the tastes and habits of young John Ayliffe. "Ay, ay," he said, -"clerk be damned! One of Tom's pals, for a pint and a boiled -bone--droll I don't know him. He must be twenty, and ought to have -been in the stone pitcher often enough before now. Dare say he's been -sent to Mill Dol, for some minor. That's not in my department. I shall -have the darbies on him some day. He'd look handsome under the tree." - -John Ayliffe had a strong inclination to knock him down, but he -restrained himself, and at length a large plated iron door admitted -the two gentlemen into the penetralia of the temple. - -A powerful smell of aqua vitæ and other kinds of strong waters now -pervaded the atmosphere, mingled with that close sickly odor which is -felt where great numbers of uncleanly human beings are closely packed -together; and from some distance was heard the sounds of riotous -merriment, ribald song, and hoarse, unfeeling laugh, with curses and -execrations not a few. It was a time when the abominations of the -prison system were at their height. - -"Here, you step in here," said Mr. Cram to the attorney and his -companion, "and I'll bring Tom to you in a minute. He's having a lush -with some of his pals; though I thought we were going to have a mill, -for Jack Perkins, who is to be hanged o' Monday, roused out his slack -jaw at him for some quarrel about a gal, and Tom don't bear such like -easily. Howsumdever, they made it up and clubbed a gallon. Stay, I'll -get you a candle end;" and leaving them in the dark, not much, if the -truth must be told, to the satisfaction of John Ayliffe, he rolled -away along the passage and remained absent several minutes. - -When he returned, a clanking step followed him, as heavy irons were -dragged slowly on by unaccustomed limbs, and the moment after, Tom -Cutter stood in the presence of his two friends. - -The jailer brought them in a piece of candle about two inches long, -which he stuck into a sort of socket attached to an iron bar -projecting straight from the wall; and having done this he left the -three together, taking care to close and lock the door behind him. - -Chair or stool in the room there was none, and the only seat, except -the floor, which the place afforded was the edge of a small wooden -bedstead or trough, as it might be called, scantily furnished with -straw. - -Both Mr. Shanks and John Ayliffe shook hands with the felon, whose -face, though somewhat flushed with drinking, bore traces of deeper and -sterner feelings than he chose to show. He seemed glad to see them, -however, and said it was very kind of them to come, adding with an -inquiring look at Mr. Shanks, "I can't pay you, you know, Master -lawyer; for what between my garnish and lush, I shall have just enough -to keep me till the 'sizes; I shan't need much after that I fancy." - -"Pooh, pooh," cried the attorney, "don't be downhearted, Tom, and as -to pay, never mind that. John here will pay all that's needful, and -we'll have down counsellor Twistem to work the witnesses. We can't -make out an _alibi_, for the folks saw you, but we'll get you up a -character, if money can make a reputation, and I never knew the time -in England when it could not. We have come to consult with you at once -as to what's the best defence to be made, that we may have the story -all pat and right from the beginning, and no shifting and turning -afterwards." - -"I wish I hadn't killed the man," said Tom Cutter, gloomily; "I shan't -forget his face in a hurry as he fell over and cried out 'Oh, my -poor--!' but the last word choked him. He couldn't get it out; but I -fancy he was thinking of his wife--or maybe his children. But what -could I do? He gave me a sight of bad names, and swore he would peach -about what I wanted him to do. He called me a villain, and a -scoundrel, and a cheat, and a great deal more besides, till my blood -got up, and having got the stick by the small end, I hit him with the -knob on the temple. I didn't know I hit so hard; but I was in a rage." - -"That's just what I thought--just what I thought," said Mr. Shanks. -"You struck him without premeditation in a fit of passion. Now if we -can make out that he provoked you beyond bearing--" - -"That he did," said Tom Cutter. - -"That's what I say," continued Mr. Shanks, "if we can make out that he -provoked you beyond bearing while you were doing nothing unlawful and -wrong, that isn't murder, Tom." - -"Hum," said Tom Cutter, "but how will you get that up, Mr. Shanks? -I've a notion that what I went to him about was devilish unlawful." - -"Ay, but nobody knew any thing of that but you and he, and John -Ayliffe and I. We must keep that quite close, and get up a likely -story about the quarrel. You will have to tell it yourself, you know, -Tom, though we'll make counsellor Twistem let the jury see it -beforehand in his examinations." - -A gleam of hope seemed to lighten the man's face, and Mr. Shanks -continued, "We can prove, I dare say, that this fellow Scantling had a -great hatred for you." - -"No, no, he had not," said Tom Cutter, "he was more civil to me than -most, for we had been boys together." - -"That doesn't matter," said Mr. Shanks, "we must prove it; for that's -your only chance, Tom. If we can prove that you always spoke well of -him, so much the better; but we must show that he was accustomed to -abuse you, and to call you a damned ruffian and a poacher. We'll do -it--we'll do it; and then if you stick tight to your story, we'll get -you off." - -"But what's the story to be, master Shanks?" asked Tom Cutter, "I -can't learn a long one; I never was good at learning by heart." - -"Oh, no; it shall be as short and simple as possible," replied Shanks; -"you must admit having gone over to see him, and that you struck the -blow that killed him. We can't get over that, Tom; but then you must -say you're exceedingly sorry, and was so the very moment after." - -"So I was," replied Tom Cutter. - -"And your story must refer," continued Mr. Shanks, "to nothing but -what took place just before the blow was struck. You must say that you -heard he accused you of putting wires in Lord Selby's woods, and that -you went over to clear yourself; but that he abused you so violently, -and insulted you so grossly, your blood got up and you struck him, -only intending to knock him down. Do you understand me?" - -"Quite well--quite well," replied Tom Cutter, his face brightening; "I -do think that may do, 'specially if you can make out that I was -accustomed to speak well of him, and he to abuse me. It's an accident -that might happen to any man." - -"To be sure," replied Mr. Shanks; "we will take care to corroborate -your story, only you get it quite right. Now let us hear what you will -say." - -Tom Cutter repeated the tale he had been taught very accurately; for -it was just suited to his comprehension, and Shanks rubbed his hands, -saying, "That will do--that will do." - -John Ayliffe, however, was still not without his anxieties, and after -a little hesitation as to how he should put the question which he -meditated, he said, "Of course, Tom, I suppose you have not told any -of the fellows here what you came over for?" - -The ruffian knew him better than he thought, and understood his object -at once. - -"No, no, John," he said, "I have'nt peached, and shall not; be you -sure of that. If I am to die, I'll die game, depend upon it; but I do -think there's a chance now, and we may as well make the best of it." - -"To be sure--to be sure," answered the more prudent Shanks; "you don't -think, Mr. Ayliffe, that he would be fool enough to go and cut his own -throat by telling any one what would be sure to hang him. That is a -very green notion." - -"Oh, no, nor would I say a word that could serve that Sir Philip -Hastings," said Tom Cutter; "he's been my enemy for the last ten -years, and I could see he would be as glad to twist my neck as I have -been to twist his hares. Perhaps I may live to pay him yet." - -"I'm not sure you might not give him a gentle rub in your defence," -said John Ayliffe; "he would not like to hear that his pretty proud -daughter Emily came down to see me, as I'm sure she did, let her say -what she will, when I was ill at the cottage by the park gates. You -were in the house, don't you recollect, getting a jug of beer, while I -was sitting at the door when she came down?" - -"I remember, I remember," replied Tom Cutter, with a malicious smile; -"I gave him one rub which he didn't like when he committed me, and -I'll do this too." - -"Take care," said Mr. Shanks, "you had better not mix up other things -with your defence." - -"Oh, I can do it quite easily," replied the other with a triumphant -look; "I could tell what happened then, and how I heard there that -people suspected me of poaching still, though I had quite given it up, -and how I determined to find out from that minute who it was accused -me." - -"That can do no harm," said Shanks, who had not the least objection to -see Sir Philip Hastings mortified; and after about half an hour's -farther conversation, having supplied Tom Cutter with a small sum of -money, the lawyer and his young companion prepared to withdraw. Shanks -whistled through the keyhole of the door, producing a shrill loud -sound as if he were blowing over the top of a key; and Dionysius Cram -understanding the signal, hastened to let them out. - -Before we proceed farther, however, with any other personage, we may -as well trace the fate of Mr. Thomas Cutter. - -The assizes were approaching near at this time, and about a fortnight -after, he was brought to trial; not all the skill of counsellor -Twistem, however, nor the excellent character which Mr. Shanks tried -to procure for him, had any effect; his reputation was too well -established to be affected by any scandalous reports of his being a -peaceable and orderly man. His violence and irregular life were too -well known for the jury to come to any other conclusion than that it -would be a good thing to rid the country of him, and whether very -legally or not, I cannot say, they brought in a verdict of wilful -murder without quitting the box. His defence, however, established for -him the name of a very clever fellow, and one portion of it certainly -sent Sir Philip Hastings from the Court thoughtful and gloomy. -Nevertheless, no recommendation to mercy having issued from the Judge, -Tom Cutter was hanged in due form of law, and to use his own words, -"died game." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - - -We must go back a little, for we have somewhat anticipated our tale. -Never did summons strike more joyfully on the ear of mortal than came -that of her recall home to Emily Hastings. As so often happens to all -in life, the expected pleasure had turned to ashes on the lip, and her -visit to Mrs. Hazleton offered hardly one point on which memory could -rest happily. Nay, more, without being able definitely to say why, -when she questioned her own heart, the character of her beautiful -hostess had suffered by close inspection. She was not the same in -Emily's esteem as she had been before. She could not point out what -Mrs. Hazleton had said or done to produce such an impression; but she -was less amiable,--less reverenced. It was not alone that the -trappings in which a young imagination had decked her were stripped -off; but it was that a baser metal beneath had here and there shown -doubtfully through the gilding with which she concealed her real -character. - -If the summons was joyful to Emily, it was a surprise and an -unpleasant one to Mrs. Hazleton. Not that she wished to keep her young -guest with her long; for she was too keen and shrewd not to perceive -that Emily would not be worked upon so easily as she had imagined; and -that under her very youthfulness there was a strength of character -which must render one part of the plans against her certainly -abortive. But Mrs. Hazleton was taken by surprise. She could have -wished to guard against construction of some parts of her conduct -which must be the more unpleasant, because the more just. She had -fancied she would have time to give what gloss she chose to her -conduct in Emily's eyes, and to prevent dangerous explanations between -the father and the daughter. Moreover, the suddenness of the call -alarmed her and raised doubts. Wherever there is something to be -concealed there is something to be feared, and Mrs. Hazleton asked -herself if Emily had found means to communicate to Sir Philip Hastings -what had occurred with John Ayliffe. - -That, however, she soon concluded was impossible. Some knowledge of -the facts, nevertheless, might have reached him from other sources, -and Mrs. Hazleton grew uneasy. Sir Philip's letter to his daughter, -which Emily at once suffered her hostess to see, threw no light upon -the subject. It was brief, unexplicit, and though perfectly kind and -tender, peremptory. It merely required her to return to the Hall, as -some business rendered her presence at home necessary. - -Little did Mrs. Hazleton divine the business to which Sir Philip -alluded. Had she known it, what might have happened who can say? There -were terribly strong passions within that fair bosom, and there were -moments when those strong passions mastered even strong worldly sense -and habitual self-control. - -There was not much time, however, for even thought, and less for -preparation. Emily departed, after having received a few words of -affectionate caution from Mrs. Hazleton, delicately and skilfully put, -in such a manner as to produce the impression that she was speaking of -subjects personally indifferent to herself--except in so much as her -young friend's own happiness was concerned. - -Shall we say the truth? Emily attended but little. Her thoughts were -full of her father's letter, and of the joy of returning to a home -where days passed peacefully in an even quiet course, very different -from that in which the stream of time had flowed at Mrs. Hazleton's. -The love of strong emotions--the brandy-drinking of the mind--is an -acquired taste. Few, very few have it from nature. Poor Emily, she -little knew how many strong emotions were preparing for her. - -Gladly she saw the carriage roll onward through scenes more and more -familiar at every step. Gladly she saw the forked gates appear, and -marked the old well-known hawthorns as they flitted by her; and the -look of joy with which she sprang into her fathers arms, might have -convinced any heart that there was but one home she loved. - -"Now go and dress for dinner at once, my child," said Sir Philip, "we -have delayed two hours for you. Be not long." - -Nor was Emily long; she could not have been more rapid had she known -that Marlow was waiting eagerly for her appearance. Well pleased, -indeed, was she to see him, when she entered the drawing-room; but for -the first time since she had known him--from some cause or other--a -momentary feeling of embarrassment--of timidity, came upon her; and -the color rose slightly in her cheek. Her eyes spoke, however, more -than her lips could say, and Marlow must have been satisfied, if -lovers ever could be satisfied. - -Lady Hastings was lying languidly on a couch, not knowing how to -intimate to her daughter her disapproval of a suit yet unknown to -Emily herself. She could not venture to utter openly one word in -opposition; for Sir Philip Hastings had desired her not to do so, and -she had given a promise to forbear, but she thought it would be -perfectly consistent with that promise, and perfectly fair and right -to show in other ways than by words, that Mr. Marlow was not the man -she would have chosen for her daughter's husband, and even to -insinuate objections which she dare not state directly. - -In her manner to Marlow therefore, Lady Hastings, though perfectly -courteous and polite--for such was Sir Philip's pleasure--was as cold -as ice, always added "Sir" to her replies, and never forgot herself so -far as to call him by his name. - -Emily remarked this demeanor; but she knew--I should rather have said -she was aware; for it was a matter more of sensation than thought,--a -conviction that had grown up in her mind without reflection--she was -aware that her mother was somewhat capricious in her friendships. She -had seen it in the case of servants and of some of the governesses she -had had when she was quite young. One day they would be all that was -estimable and charming in Lady Hastings' eyes, and another, from some -slight offence--some point of demeanor which she did not like--or some -moody turn of her own mind, they would be all that was detestable. It, -had often been the same, too, with persons of a higher station; and -therefore it did not in the least surprise her to find that Mr. -Marlow, who had been ever received by Lady Hastings before as a -familiar friend, should now be treated almost as a stranger. - -It grieved her, nevertheless, and she thought that Marlow must feel -her mother's conduct painfully. She would fain have made up for it by -any means in her power, and thus the demeanor of Lady Hastings had an -effect the direct reverse of that which she intended. Nor did her -innuendos produce any better results, for she soon saw that they -grieved and offended her husband, while her daughter showed marvellous -stupidity, as she thought, in not comprehending them. - -Full of love, and now full of hope likewise, Marlow, it must be -confessed, thought very little of Lady Hastings at all. He was one of -those men upon whom love sits well--they are but few in the world--and -whatever agitation he might feel at heart, there was none apparent in -his manner. His attention to Emily was decided, pointed, not to be -mistaken by any one well acquainted with such matters; but he was -quite calm and quiet about it; there was no flutter about it--no -forgetfulness of proprieties; and his conversation had never seemed to -Emily so agreeable as that night, although the poor girl knew not what -was the additional charm. Delightful to her, however, it was; and in -enjoying it she forgot altogether that she had been sent for about -business--nay, even forgot to wonder what that business could be. - -Thus passed the evening; and when the usual time for retiring came, -Emily was a little surprised that there was no announcement of Mr. -Marlow's horse, or Mr. Marlow's carriage, as had ever been the case -before, but that Mr. Marlow was going to spend some days at the hall. - -When Lady Hastings rose to go to rest, and her daughter rose to go -with her, another thing struck Emily as strange. Sir Philip, as his -wife passed him, addressed to her the single word "Beware!" with a -very marked emphasis. Lady Hastings merely bowed her head, in reply; -but when she and Emily arrived at her dressing-room, where the -daughter had generally stayed to spend a few minutes with her mother -alone, Lady Hastings kissed her, and wished her good night, declaring -that she felt much fatigue, and would ring for her maid at once. - -Lady Hastings was a very good woman, and wished to obey her husband's -injunctions to the letter, but she felt afraid of herself, and would -not trust herself with Emily alone. - -Dear Emily lay awake for half an hour after she had sought her pillow, -but not more, and then she fell into a sleep as soft and calm as that -of childhood, and the next morning rose as blooming as the flower of -June. Sir Philip was up when she went down stairs, and walking on the -terrace with Marlow. Lady Hastings sent word that she would breakfast -in her own room, when she had obtained a few hours' rest, as she had -not slept all night. Thus Emily had to attend to the breakfast-table -in her mother's place; but in those days the lady's functions at the -morning meal were not so various and important as at present; and the -breakfast passed lightly and pleasantly. Still there was no mention of -the business which had caused Emily to be summoned so suddenly, and -when the breakfast was over, Sir Philip retired to his library, -without asking Emily to follow, and merely saying, "You had better not -disturb your mother, my dear child. If you take a walk I will join you -ere long." - -For the first time, a doubt, a notion--for I must not call it a -suspicion--came across the mind of Emily, that the business for which -she had been sent might have something to do with Mr. Marlow. How her -little heart beat! She sat quite still for a minute or two, for she -did not know, if she rose, what would become of her. - -At length the voice of Marlow roused her from her gently-troubled -reverie, as he said. "Will you not come out to take a walk?" - -She consented at once, and went away to prepare. Nor was she long, for -in less than ten minutes, she and Marlow were crossing the park, -towards the older and thicker trees amidst which they had rambled once -before. But it was Marlow who now led her on a path which he chose -himself. I know not whether it was some memory of his walk with Mrs. -Hazleton, or whether it was that instinct which leads love to seek -shady places, or whether, like a skilful general, he had previously -reconnoitred the ground; but something or other in his own breast -induced him to deviate from the more direct track which they had -followed on their previous walk, and guide his fair companion across -the short dry turf towards the thickest part of the wood, through -which there penetrated, winding in and out amongst the trees, a small -path, just wide enough for two, bowered overhead by crossing branches, -and gaining sweet woodland scenes of light and shade at every step, as -the eye dived into the deep green stillness between the large old -trunks, carefully freed from underwood, and with their feet carpeted -with moss, and flowers, and fern. It was called the deer's track, from -the fact that along it, morning and evening, all the bucks and does -which had herded on that side of the park might be seen walking -stately down to or from a bright, clear-running trout-stream, that -wandered along about a quarter of a mile farther on; and often, in the -hot weather, a person standing half way down the walk might see a tall -antlered fellow standing with his forefeet in the water and his -hind-quarters raised upon the bank, gazing at himself in the liquid -mirror below, with all his graceful beauties displayed to the -uttermost by a burst of yellow light, which towards noon always poured -upon the stream at that place. - -Marlow and Emily, however, were quite alone upon the walk. Not even a -hind or hart was there; and after the first two or three steps, Marlow -asked his fair companion to take his arm. She did so, readily; for she -needed it, not so much because the long gnarled roots of the trees -crossed the path from time to time, and offered slight impediments, -for usually her foot was light as air, but because she felt an -unaccountable languor upon her, a tremulous, agitated sort of unknown -happiness unlike any thing else she had ever before experienced. - -Marlow drew her little hand through his arm then, and she rested upon -it, not with the light touch of a mere acquaintance, but with a gentle -confiding pressure which was very pleasant to him, and yet the -capricious man must needs every two or three minutes, change that -kindly position as the trees and irregularities of the walk afforded -an excuse. Now he placed Emily on the one side, now on the other, and -if she had thought at all (but by this time she was far past thought,) -she might have fancied that he did so solely for the purpose of once -more taking her hand in his to draw it through his arm again. - -At the spot where the walk struck the stream, and before it proceeded -onward by the bank, there was a little irregular open space not twenty -yards broad in any direction, canopied over by the tall branches of an -oak, and beneath the shade about twelve yards from the margin of the -stream, was a pure, clear, shallow well of exceedingly cold water, -which as it quietly flowed over the brink went on to join the rivulet -below. The well was taken care of, kept clean, and basined in plain -flat stones; but there was, no temple over it, Gothic or Greek. On the -side farthest from the stream was a plain wooden bench placed for the -convenience of persons who came to drink the waters which were -supposed to have some salutary influence, and there by tacit consent -Marlow and Emily seated themselves side by side. - -They gazed into the clear little well at their feet, seeing all the -round variegated pebbles at the bottom glistening like jewels as the -branches above, moved by a fresh wind that was stirring in the sky, -made the checkered light dance over the surface. There was a green -leaf broken by some chance from a bough above which floated about upon -the water as the air fanned it gently, now hither, now thither, now -gilded by the sunshine, now covered with dim shadow. After pausing in -silence for a moment or two, Marlow pointed to the leaf with a light -and seemingly careless smile, saying, "See how it floats about, Emily. -That leaf is like a young heart full of love." - -"Indeed," said Emily, looking full in his face with a look of inquiry, -for perhaps she thought that in his smile she might find an -interpretation of what was going on in her own bosom. "Indeed! How -so?" - -"Do you not see," said Marlow, "how it is blown about by the softest -breath, which stirs not the less sensitive things around, how it is -carried by any passing air now into bright hopeful light, now into dim -melancholy shadow?" - -"And is that like love?" asked Emily. "I should have thought it was -all brightness." - -"Ay, happy love--love returned," replied Marlow, "but where there is -uncertainty, a doubt, there hope and fear make alternately the light -and shade of love, and the lightest breath will bear the heart from -the one extreme to the other--I know it from the experience of the -last three days, Emily; for since last we met I too have fluctuated -between the light and shade. Your father's consent has given a -momentary gleam of hope, but it is only you who can make the light -permanent." - -Emily shook, and her eyes were bent down upon the water; but she -remained silent so long that Marlow became even more agitated than -herself. "I know not what I feel," she murmured at length,--"it is -very strange." - -"But hear me, Emily," said Marlow, taking her unresisting hand, "I do -not ask an immediate answer to my suit. If you regard me with any -favor--if I am not perfectly indifferent to you, let me try to improve -any kindly feelings in your heart towards me in the bright hope of -winning you at last for my own, my wife. The uncertainty may be -painful--must be painful; but--" - -"No, no, Marlow," cried Emily, raising her eyes to his face for an -instant with her cheek all glowing, "there must be no uncertainty. Do -you think I would keep you--you, in such a painful state as you have -mentioned? Heaven forbid!" - -"Then what am I to think?" asked Marlow pressing closer to her side -and gliding his arm round her. "I am almost mad to dream of such -happiness, and yet your tone, your look, my Emily, make me so rash. -Tell me then--tell me at once, am I to hope or to despair?--Will you -be mine?" - -"Of course," she answered, "can you doubt it?" - -"I can almost doubt my senses," said Marlow; but he had no occasion to -doubt them. - -They sat there for nearly half an hour; they then wandered on, with -marvellous meanderings in their course, for more than an hour and a -half more, and when they returned, Emily knew more of love than ever -could be learned from books. Marlow drew her feelings forth and gave -them definite form and consistency. He presented them to her by -telling what he himself felt in a plain and tangible shape, which -required no long reverie--none of their deep fits of thoughtfulness to -investigate and comprehend. From the rich store of his own -imagination, and the treasury of deep feeling in his breast, he poured -forth illustrations that brightened as if with sunshine every -sensation which had been dark and mysterious in her bosom before; -and ere they turned their steps back towards the house, Emily -believed--nay, she felt; and that is much more--that without knowing -it, she had loved him long. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - - -This must be a chapter of rapid action, comprising in its brief space -the events of many months--events which might not much interest the -reader in minute detail, but which produced important results to all -the persons concerned, and drew on the coming catastrophe. - -The news that Mr. Marlow was about to be married to Emily, the -beautiful heiress of Sir Philip Hastings, spread far and wide over the -country; and if joy and satisfaction reigned in the breasts of three -persons in Emily's dwelling, discontent and annoyance were felt more -and more strongly every hour by Lady Hastings. A Duke, she thought, -would not have been too high a match for her daughter, with all the -large estates she was to inherit; and the idea of her marrying a -simple commoner was in itself very bitter. She was not a woman to bear -a disappointment gracefully; and Emily soon had the pain of -discovering that her engagement to Marlow was much disapproved by her -mother. She consoled herself, however, by the full approval of her -father, who was somewhat more than satisfied. - -Sir Philip for his part, considering his daughter's youth, required -that the marriage should be delayed at least two years, and, in his -theoretical way, he soon built up a scheme, which was not quite so -successful as he could have wished. Marlow's character was, in most -respects, one after his own heart; but as I have shown, he had thought -from the first, that there were weak points in it,--or rather points -rendered weak by faults of education and much mingling with the world. -He wanted, in short, some of that firmness--may I not say hardness of -the old Roman, which Sir Philip so peculiarly admired; and the scheme -now was, to re-educate Marlow, if I may use the term, during the next -two years, to mould him in short after Sir Philip's own idea of -perfection. How this succeeded, or failed, we shall have occasion -hereafter to show. - -Tidings of Emily's engagement were communicated to Mrs. Hazleton, -first by rumor, and immediately after by more certain information in a -letter from Lady Hastings. I will not dwell upon the effect produced -in her. I will not lift up the curtain with which she covered her own -breast, and show all the dark and terrible war of passions within. For -three days Mrs. Hazleton was really ill, remained shut up in her room, -had the windows darkened, admitted no one but the maid and the -physician: and well for her was it, perhaps, that the bitter anguish -she endured overpowered her corporeal powers, and forced seclusion -upon her. During those three days she could not have concealed her -feelings from all eyes had she been forced to mingle with society; but -in her sickness she had time for thought--space to fight the battle -in, and she came forth triumphant. - -When she at length appeared in her own drawing-room no one could have -imagined that the illness was of the heart. She was a little paler -than before, there was a soft and pleasing languor about her carriage, -but she was, to all appearance, as calm and cheerful as ever. - -Nevertheless she thought it better to go to London for a short time. -She did not yet dare to meet Emily Hastings. She feared _herself_. - -Yet the letter of Lady Hastings was a treasure to her, for it gave her -hopes of vengeance. In it the mother showed but too strongly her -dislike of her daughter's choice, and Mrs. Hazleton resolved to -cultivate the friendship of Lady Hastings, whom she had always -despised, and to use her weakness for her own purposes. - -She was destined, moreover, to have other sources of consolation, and -that more rapidly than she expected. It was shortly before her return -to the country that the trial of Tom Cutter took place; and not long -after she came back that he was executed. Many persons at the trial -had remarked the effect which some parts of the evidence had produced -on Sir Philip Hastings. He was not skilful in concealing the emotions -that he felt, and although it was sometimes difficult, from the -peculiarities of his character, to discover what was their precise -nature, they always left some trace by which it might be seen that he -was greatly moved. - -Information of the facts was given to Mrs. Hazleton by Shanks the -attorney, and young John Ayliffe, who dwelt with pleasure upon the -pain his successful artifice had inflicted; and Mrs. Hazleton was well -pleased too. - -But the wound was deeper than they thought. It was like that produced -by the bite of a snake--insignificant in itself, but carrying poison -into every vein. - -Could his child deceive him? Sir Philip Hastings asked himself. Could -Emily have long known this vulgar youth--gone secretly down to see him -at a distant cottage--conferred with him unknown to either father or -mother? It seemed monstrous to suppose such a thing; and yet what -could he believe? She had never named John Ayliffe since her return -from Mrs. Hazleton's; and yet it was certain from Marlow's own -account, that she had seen him there. Did not that show that she was -desirous of concealing the acquaintance from her parents? - -Sir Philip had asked no questions, leaving her to speak if she thought -fit. He was now sorry for it, and resolved to inquire; as the fact of -her having seen the young man, for whom he felt an inexpressible -dislike, had been openly mentioned in a court of justice. But as he -rode home he began to argue on the other side of the question. The man -who had made the assertion was a notorious liar--a convicted felon. -Besides, he knew him to be malicious; he had twice before thrown out -insinuations which Sir Philip believed to be baseless, and could only -be intended to produce uneasiness. Might not these last words of his -be traced to the same motive? He would inquire in the first place, he -thought, what was the connection between the convict and John Ayliffe, -and stopping on the way for that purpose, he, soon satisfied himself -that the two were boon companions. - -When he reached his own dwelling, he found Emily seated by Marlow in -one of her brightest, happiest moods. There was frank candor, graceful -innocence, bright open-hearted truth in every look and every word. It -was impossible to doubt her; and Sir Philip cast the suspicion from -him, but, alas! not for ever. They would return from time to time to -grieve and perplex him; and he would often brood for hours over his -daughter's character, puzzling himself more and more. Yet he would not -say a word--he blamed himself for even thinking of the matter; and he -would not show a suspicion. Yet he continued to think and to doubt, -while poor unconscious Emily would have been ready, if asked, to solve -the whole mystery in a moment. She had been silent from an -unwillingness to begin a painful subject herself; and though she had -yielded no assent to Mrs. Hazleton's arguments, they had made her -doubt whether she ought to mention, unquestioned, John Ayliffe's -proposal and conduct. She had made up her mind to tell all, if her -father showed the slightest desire to know any thing regarding her -late visit; but there was something in the effects which that visit -had produced on her mind, which she could not explain to herself. - -Why did she love Mrs. Hazleton less? Why had she lost so greatly her -esteem for her? What had that lady done or said which justified so -great a change of feeling towards her? Emily could not tell. She could -fix upon no word, no act, she could entirely blame--but yet there had -been a general tone in her whole demeanor which had opened the poor -girl's eyes too much. She puzzled herself sadly with her own thoughts; -and probably would have fallen into more than one of her deep -self-absorbed reveries, had not sweet new feelings, Marlow's frequent -presence, kept her awake to a brighter, happier world of thought. - -She was indeed very happy; and, could she have seen her mother look -brighter and smile upon her, she would have been perfectly so. Her -father's occasional moodiness she did not heed; for he often seemed -gloomy merely from intense thought. Emily had got a key to such dark -reveries in her own heart, and she knew well that they were no true -indications either of discontent or grief, for very often when to the -eyes of others she seemed the most dull and melancholy, she was -enjoying intense delight in the activity of her own mind. She judged -her father from herself, and held not the slightest idea that any -word, deed or thought of hers had given him the slightest uneasiness. - -Notwithstanding the various contending feelings and passions which -were going on in the little circle on which our eyes are fixed, the -course of life had gone on with tolerable smoothness as far as Emily -and Marlow were concerned, for about two months, when, one morning, -Sir Philip Hastings received a letter in a hand which he did not know. -It reached him at the breakfast table, and evidently affected him -considerably with some sort of emotion. His daughters instantly caught -the change of his countenance, but Sir Philip did not choose that any -one should know he could be moved by any thing on earth, and he -instantly repressed all agitation, quietly folded up the letter again, -concluded his breakfast, and then retired to his own study. - -Emily was not deceived, however. There were moments in Sir Philip's -life when he was unable to conceal altogether the strong feelings of -his heart under the veil of stoicism--or as he would have termed -it--to curb and restrain them by the power of philosophy. Emily had -seen such moments, and knew, that whatever were the emotions produced -by that letter, whether of anger or grief or apprehension--her father -was greatly moved. - -In his own study, Sir Philip Hastings seated himself, spread the -letter before him, and read it over attentively. But now it did not -seem to affect him in the least. He was, in fact, ashamed of the -feelings he had experienced and partly shown. "How completely," said -he to himself, "does a false and fictitious system of society render -us the mere slaves of passion, infecting even those who tutor -themselves from early years to resist its influence. Here an insolent -young man lays claim to my name, and my inheritance, and coolly -assumes not only that he has a title to do so, but that I know it; and -this instead of producing calm contempt, makes my heart beat and my -blood boil, as if I were the veriest schoolboy." - -The letter was all that Sir Philip stated, but it was something more. -It was a very artful epistle, drawn up by the joint shrewdness of Mr. -Shanks, Mr. John Ayliffe, and Mrs. Hazleton. It concisely stated the -claims of the young man who signed it, to all the property of the late -Sir John Hastings and to the baronetcy. It made no parade of proofs, -but assumed that those in the writer's possession were indisputable, -and also that Sir Philip Hastings was well aware that John Ayliffe was -his elder brother's legitimate son. The annuity which had been bought -for himself and his mother was broadly stated to have been the -purchase-money of her silence, negotiated by her father, who had no -means to carry on a suit at law. As long as his mother lived, the -writer said, he had been silent out of deference to her wishes, but -now that she was dead in France, he did not feel himself bound to -abide by an arrangement which deprived him at once of fortune and -station, and which had been entered into without his knowledge or -consent. He then went on to call upon Sir Philip Hastings in the -coolest terms to give up possession and acknowledge his right without -what the writer called "the painful ceremony of a lawsuit;" and in two -parts of the letter allusion was made to secret information which the -writer had obtained by the kind confidence of a friend whom he would -not name. - -It was probably intended to give point to this insinuation at an after -period, but if it was aimed at poor Emily, it fell harmless for the -time, as no one knew better than Sir Philip that she had never been -informed of any thing which could affect the case in question. - -Indeed, the subject of the annuity was one which he had never -mentioned to any one since the transaction had been completed many -years before; and the name of John Ayliffe had never passed his lips -till Marlow mentioned having seen that young man at Mrs. Hazleton's -house. - -When he had read the letter, and as soon as he thought he had mastered -the last struggle of passion, he dipped the pen in the ink and wrote -the few following words: - -"Sir Philip Hastings has received the letter signed John Ayliffe -Hastings. He knows no person of that name, but has heard of a young -man of the name of John Ayliffe. If that person thinks he has any just -claim on Sir Philip Hastings, or his estate, he had better pursue it -in the legal and ordinary course, as Sir Philip Hastings begs to -disclaim all private communication with him." - -He addressed the letter to "Mr. John Ayliffe," and sent it to the -post. This done, he rejoined Marlow and Emily, and to all appearance -was more cheerful and conversable than he had been for many a previous -day. Perhaps it cost him an effort to be cheerful at all, and the -effort went a little beyond its mark. Emily was not altogether -satisfied, but Lady Hastings, when she came down, which, as usual, was -rather late in the day, remarked how gay her husband was. - -Sir Philip said nothing to any one at the time regarding the contents -of the letter he had received. He consulted no lawyer even, and tried -to treat the subject with contemptuous forgetfulness; but his was a -brooding and tenacious mind, and he often thought of the epistle, and -the menaces it implied, against his own will. Nor could he or any one -connected with him long remain unattentive or ignorant of the matter, -for in a few weeks the first steps were taken in a suit against him, -and, spreading from attorneys' offices in every direction, the news of -such proceedings travelled far and wide, till the great Hastings case -became the talk of the whole country round. - -In the mean time, Sir Philip's reply was very speedily shown to Mrs. -Hazleton, and that lady triumphed a good deal. Sir Philip was now in -the same position with John Ayliffe, she thought, that she had been in -some time before with Mr. Marlow; and already he began to show, in her -opinion, a disposition to treat the case very differently in his own -instance and in hers. - -There he had strongly supported private negotiation; here he rejected -it altogether; and she chose to forget that circumstances, though -broadly the same, were in detail very different. - -"We shall see," she said to herself, "we shall see whether, when the -proofs are brought forward, he will act with that rigid sense of -justice, which he assumed here." - -When the first processes had been issued, however, and common rumor -justified a knowledge of the transaction, without private information, -Mrs. Hazleton set out at once to visit "poor dear Lady Hastings," and -condole with her on the probable loss of fortune. How pleasant it is -to condole with friends on such occasions. What an accession of -importance we get in our own eyes, especially if the poor people we -comfort have been a little bit above us in the world. - -But Mrs. Hazleton had higher objects in view; she wanted no accession -of importance. She was quite satisfied with her own position in -society. She sought to see and prompt Lady Hastings--to sow dissension -where she knew there must already be trouble; and she found Sir -Philip's wife just in the fit frame of mind for her purpose. Sir -Philip himself and Emily had ridden out together; and though Mrs. -Hazleton would willingly have found an opportunity of giving Sir -Philip a sly friendly kick, and of just reminding him of his doctrines -announced in the case between herself and Mr. Marlow, she was not -sorry to have Lady Hastings alone for an hour or two. They remained -long in conference, and I need not detail all that passed. Lady -Hastings poured forth all her grief and indignation at Emily's -engagement to Mr. Marlow; and Mrs. Hazleton did nothing to diminish -either. She agreed that it was a very unequal match, that Emily with -her beauty and talents, and even with her mother's fortune alone, -might well marry into the highest family of the land. Nay, she said, -could the match be broken off, she might still take her rank among the -peeresses. She did not advise, indeed, actual resistance on the part -of her friend; she feared Lady Hastings' discretion; but she -insinuated that a mother and a wife by unwavering and constant -opposition, often obtained her own way, even in very difficult -circumstances. - -From that hour Mrs. Hazleton was Lady Hastings' best friend. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - - -There are seasons in the life of man, as well as in the course of the -year; and well, unhappily, have many poets painted them in all their -various aspects. But these seasons are subject to variations with -different men, as with different years. The summer of one man is all -bright and calm--a lapse of tranquil sunshine, and soft airs, and -gentle dews. With another, the same season passes in the thunder-storm -of passion--the tempests of war or ambition--and often, the gloomy -days of autumn or of winter overshadowed the rich land, and spoiled -the promised harvest. - -It was an autumn-like period during the next three or four months of -the family of Sir Philip Hastings. For the first time, uncertainty and -doubt fell upon the family generally. There had been differences of -temper and of character. There had been slight inconveniences. There -had been occasional sickness and anxiety. There had been all those -things which in the usual course of events diminished the sum of human -happiness even to the most happy. But there had been nothing the least -like uncertainty of position. There had been no wavering anxiety from -day to day as to what the morrow was to bring forth. There had been -none of that poison-drop in which the keenest shafts of fate are -dipped, "the looking for of evil." - -Now, every day brought some new intelligence, and some new -expectation, and the mass was altogether unfavorable. Had the blow -fallen at once--had any one been in power to say, "Sir Philip -Hastings, you must resign all your paternal estates, and pay back at -once the rents for nearly twenty years--you must give up the rank and -station which you have hitherto held, and occupy a totally different -position in society!" Sir Philip would have submitted at once, and -with less discomfort than most of my readers can imagine. But it was -the wearing, irritating, exciting, yet stupefying progress of a -lawsuit which had a painful and distressing effect upon his mind. One -day, he thought he saw the case quite clearly--could track the tricks -of his adversary, and expose the insecure foundation of his claim; and -then would come two or three days of doubt and discussion, and then -disappointment, and a new turn where every thing had to begin again. -But gradually proofs swelled up, first giving some show of justice to -the pretence that John Ayliffe had some claim, then amounting to a -probability in his favor, then seeming, to unlearned eyes, very -powerful as to his right. - -I am no lawyer, and therefore cannot pursue all the stages of the -proceeding; but John Ayliffe had for his assistants unscrupulous men, -whose only aims were to succeed, and to shield themselves from danger -in case of detection; and their turns, and twists, and new points, -were manifold. - -Sir Philip Hastings was tortured. It affected his spirits and his -temper. He became more gloomy--occasionally irritable, often -suspicious. He learned to pore over law papers, to seek out flaws and -errors, to look for any thing that might convey a double meaning, to -track the tortuous and narrow paths by which that power which bears -the name of Justice reaches the clear light of truth, or falls into -the thorny deep of error. - -All this disturbed and changed him; and these daily anxieties and -discomforts affected his family too--Emily, indeed, but little, except -inasmuch as she was grieved to see her father grieve. But Lady -Hastings was not only pained and mortified herself--she contrived -to communicate a share of all she felt to others. She became -sad--somewhat sullen--and fancied all the time while she was -depressing her husband's spirits, and aggravating all he felt by -despondency and murmurs, instead of cheering and supporting him by -making light of the threatened evils, that she was but participating -sympathetically in his anxieties, and feeling a due share of his -sorrows. She had no idea of the duty of cheerfulness, in a wife, and -how often it may prove the very blessing that God intended in giving -man a helpmate. - -Sickness, it is true, had diminished somewhat the light spirits of her -youth, but she had assuredly become a creature of repinings--a -murmurer by habit--fit to double rather than divide any load of -misfortune which fate might cast upon a husband's shoulders. - -Lady Hastings strove rather to look sad, Emily Hastings to be gay and -cheerful, and both did it perhaps a little too much for the mood and -circumstances in which Sir Philip then was. He wondered when he came -home, after an anxious day, that Lady Hastings did nothing to cheer -him--that every word was gloomy and sad--that she seemed far more -affected at the thought of loss of fortune and station than himself. -He wondered also that Emily could be so light and playful, so joyous -and seemingly unconcerned, when he was suffering such anxiety. - -Poor Emily! she was forcing spirits in vain, and playing the kindliest -of hypocrites--fashioning every word, and every look, to win him away -from painful thought, only to be misunderstood. - -But the misunderstanding was heightened and pointed by the hand of -malice. The emotion which Sir Philip had displayed in the court had -not been forgotten by some whom a spirit of revenge rendered keen and -clear-sighted. - -It seemed impossible to mingle Emily's name directly with the law -proceedings which were taking place; but more than once in accidental -correspondence it was insinuated that secret information, which had -led to the development of John Ayliffe's claim, had been obtained from -some near relation of Sir Philip Hastings, and it became generally -rumored and credited in the county, that Emily had indiscreetly -betrayed some secrets of her father's. Of course these rumors did not -reach her ears, but they reached Sir Philip Hastings, and he thought -it strange, and more strange, that Emily had never mentioned to him -her several interviews with John Ayliffe, which he had by this time -learned were more than one. - -Some strange feelings, disguised doubtless by one of those veils which -vanity or selfishness are ever ready to cast over the naked emotions -of the human heart, withheld him from speaking to his child on the -subject which caused him so much pain. Doubtless it was pride--for -pride of a peculiar kind was at the bottom of many of his actions. He -would not condescend to inquire, he thought, into that which she did -not choose to explain herself, and he went on in reality barring the -way against confidence, when, in truth, nothing would have given Emily -more relief than to open her whole heart to her father. - -With Marlow, Sir Philip Hastings was more free and communicative than -with any one else. The young man's clear perceptions, and rapid -comprehensions on any point in the course of the proceedings going on, -his zeal, his anxiety, his thoughtfulness, and his keen sense of what -was just and equitable, raised him every day higher in the opinion of -Sir Philip Hastings, and he would consult with him for hours, talk the -whole matter over in all its bearings, and leave him to solve various -questions of conscience in which he found it difficult himself to come -to a decision. Only on one point Sir Philip Hastings never spoke to -him; and that was Emily's conduct with regard to young Ayliffe. That, -the father could not do; and yet, more than once, he longed to do it. - -One day, however, towards the end of six months after the first -processes had been issued, Sir Philip Hastings, in one of his morning -consultations with Marlow, recapitulated succinctly all the proofs -which young John Ayliffe had brought forward to establish a valid -marriage between his mother and the elder brother of the baronet. - -"The case is very nearly complete," said Sir Philip. "But two or three -links in the chain of evidence are wanting, and as soon as I become -myself convinced that this young man is, beyond all reasonable doubt, -the legitimate son of my brother John, my course will be soon taken. -It behooves us in the first instance, Marlow, to consider how this may -affect you. You have sought the hand of a rich man's daughter, and now -I shall be a poor man; for although considerable sums have accumulated -since my father's death, they will not more than suffice to pay off -the sums due to this young man if his claim be established, and the -expenses of this suit must be saved by hard economy. The property of -Lady Hastings will still descend to our child, but neither she nor I -have the power to alienate even a part of it for our daughter's dowry. -It is right, therefore, Marlow, that you should be set free from all -engagements." - -"When I first asked your daughter's hand, Sir Philip," replied -Marlow, "I heartily wished that our fortunes were more equal. Fate has -granted that wish, apparently, in making them so; and believe me, I -rejoice rather than regret that it is so, as far as I myself am -concerned. We shall have enough for comfort, Sir Philip, and not too -much for happiness. What need we more? But I cannot help thinking," he -continued, "that this suit may turn out differently from that which -you expect. I believe that the mind has its instincts, which, though -dangerous to trust to, guide us nevertheless, sometimes, more surely -than reason. There is an impression on my mind, which all the evidence -hitherto brought forward has been unable to shake, that this claim of -John Ayliffe is utterly without foundation--that it is, in fact, a -trumped up case, supported by proofs which will fall to pieces under -close examination." - -Sir Philip Hastings shook his head. "But one thing more," he said, -"and I am myself convinced. I will not struggle against conviction, -Marlow; but the moment I feel morally sure that I am defending a bad -cause, that instant I will yield, be the sacrifice what it may. -Nothing on earth," he continued, in a stern abstracted tone, "shall -ever prevent my doing that which I believe right, and which justice -and honor require me to do. Life itself and all that makes life dear -were but a poor sacrifice in the eyes of an honest man; what then a -few thousand acres, and an empty designation?" - -"But, my dear Sir Philip," replied Marlow, "let us suppose for one -moment that this claim is a fictitious one, and that it is supported -by fraud and forgery, you will allow that more than a few months are -required to investigate all the particulars thoroughly, and to detect -the knavery which may have been committed?" - -"My dear Marlow," replied Sir Philip, "conviction comes to each mind -accordingly as it is naturally constituted or habitually regulated. I -trust I have studied the nature of evidence well--well enough to be -satisfied with much less than mere law will require. In regard to all -questions which come under the decision of the law, there are, in -fact, two juries who decide upon the merits of the evidence--one, -selected from our fellow men--the other in the bosom of the parties -before which each man shall scrupulously try the justice of his own -cause, and if the verdict be against him, should look upon himself but -as an officer to carry the verdict into execution. I will never act -against conviction. I will always act with it. My mind will try the -cause itself; and the moment its decision is pronounced, that instant -I will act upon it." - -Marlow knew that it was in vain to argue farther, and could only trust -that something would occur speedily to restore Sir Philip's confidence -in his own rights. - -Sir Philip, however, was now absent very frequently from home. The -unpleasant business in which he was engaged, called him continually to -the county town, and many a long and happy hour might Marlow and Emily -have passed together had not Lady Hastings at this time assumed a -somewhat new character--apparently so only--for it was, in fact, -merely a phase of the old one. She became--as far as health and -indolence would admit--the most prudent and careful mother in the -world. She insinuated that it was highly improper for Emily to walk or -ride alone with her acknowledged lover, and broadly asserted that -their previous rambles had been permitted without her knowledge, and -from inadvertence. During all Marlow's afternoon visits, she took -especial care to sit with them the whole time, and thus she sought to -deprive them of all means of free and unconstrained communication. -Such would have been the result, too, indeed, had it not been for a -few morning hours snatched now and then; partly from a habit of -indulgence, and partly from very delicate health, Lady Hastings was -rarely, if ever, down to breakfast, and generally remained in her -drawing-room till the hour of noon was past. - -The hours of Sir Philip's absence were generally tedious enough to -himself. Sometimes a day of weary and laborious business occupied the -time; but that was a relief rather than otherwise. In general the day -was spent in a visit to the office of his lawyer, in finding the -information he wanted, or the case he had desired to be prepared, not -ready for him, in waiting for it hour after hour, in tedious gloomy -meditation, and very often riding home without it, reflecting on the -evils of a dilatory system which often, by the refusal of speedy -justice, renders ultimate justice unavailable for any thing but the -assertion of an abstract principle. He got tired of this mode of -proceeding: he felt that it irritated and disordered him, and after a -while, whenever he found that he should be detained in suspense, he -mounted his horse again, and rode away to amuse his mind with other -things. - -The house of Mrs. Hazleton being so near, he more than once paid her a -visit during such intervals. His coming frequently was not altogether -convenient to her; for John Ayliffe was not an unfrequent visitor at -her house, and Mrs. Hazleton had to give the young men a hint to let -her see him early in the morning or late in the evening. Nevertheless, -Mrs. Hazleton was not at all displeased to cultivate the friendship of -Sir Philip Hastings. She had her objects, her purposes, to serve, and -with her when she put on her most friendly looks towards the baronet -she was not moved merely by that every-day instinctive hypocrisy which -leads man to cover the passions he is conscious of, with a veil of the -most opposite appearances, but it was a definite hypocrisy, with -objects distinctly seen by herself, and full of purpose. - -Thus, and for these reasons, she received Sir Philip Hastings on all -occasions with the highest distinction--assumed, with a certain -chameleon quality which some persons have, the color and tone of his -mind to a considerable degree, while yet the general features of her -own character were preserved sufficiently to shield her from the -charge of affectation. She was easy, graceful, dignified as ever, with -a certain languid air, and serious quietness which was very engaging. -She never referred in her conversations with Sir Philip to the suit -that was going on against him, and when he spoke of it himself, though -she assumed considerable interest, and seemed to have a personal -feeling in the matter, exclaiming, "If this goes on, nobody's estates -will be secure soon!" she soon suffered the subject to drop, and did -not recur to it again. - -One day after the conversation between Sir Philip and Marlow, part of -which has been already detailed, Sir Philip turned his horse's head -towards Mrs. Hazleton's at a somewhat earlier hour than usual. It was -just half past ten when he dismounted at the door, but he knew her -matutinal habits and did not expect to find her occupied. The servant, -however, instead of showing him into the small room where she usually -sat, took him to the great drawing-room, and as he went, Sir Philip -heard the voices of Mrs. Hazleton and another person in quick and -apparently eager conversation. There was nothing extraordinary in -this, however, and he turned to the window and gazed out into the -park. He heard the servant go into the morning room, and then -immediately all sound of voices ceased. Shortly after, a horse's feet, -beating the ground rapidly, caught the baronet's ear, but the rider -must have mounted in the courtyard and taken the back way out of the -park; for he came not within Sir Philip's sight. A moment or two -after, Mrs. Hazleton appeared, and there was an air of eagerness and -excitement about her which was not at all usual. She seated Sir Philip -beside her, however, with one of her blandest looks, and then laying -her hand on his, said, in a kind and sisterly tone, "Do tell me, Sir -Philip--I am not apt to be curious, or meddle with other people's -affairs; but in this I am deeply interested. A rumor has just reached -me from Hartwell, that you have signified your intention of abandoning -your defence against this ridiculous claim upon your property. Do tell -me if this is true?" - -"Partly, and partly false," replied Sir Philip, "as all rumors are. -Who gave you this information?" - -"Oh, some of the people from Hartwell," she replied, "who came over -upon business." - -"The tidings must have spread fast," replied Sir Philip; "I announced -to my own legal advisers this morning, and told them to announce to -the opposite party, that if they could satisfy me upon one particular -point, I would not protract the suit, putting them to loss and -inconvenience and myself also." - -"A noble and generous proceeding, indeed," said Mrs. Hazleton with an -enthusiastic burst of admiration. "Ah, dear Emily, I can see your -mediation in this." - -Sir Philip started as if a knife had been plunged into him, and with a -profound internal satisfaction, Mrs. Hazleton saw the emotion she had -produced. - -"May I ask," he said, in a dry cold tone, after he had recovered -himself a little, "May I ask what my daughter can have to do with this -affair?" - -"Oh, really--in truth I don't know," said Mrs. Hazleton, stammering -and hesitating, "I only thought--but I dare say it is all nonsense. -Women are always the peacemakers, you know, Sir Philip, and as Emily -knew both parties well, it seemed natural she should mediate between -them." - -"Well?--" said Sir Philip Hastings to himself, slowly and -thoughtfully, but he only replied to Mrs. Hazleton, "No, my dear -Madam, Emily has had nothing to do with this. It has never formed a -subject of conversation between us, and I trust that she has -sufficient respect for me, and for herself, not to interfere unasked -in my affairs." - -The serpent had done its work; the venom was busy in the veins of Sir -Philip Hastings, corrupting the purest sources of the heart's -feelings, and Mrs. Hazleton saw it and triumphed. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - - -Emily was as gay as a lark. The light of love and happiness was in her -eyes, the hue of health was upon her cheek, and a new spirit of hope -and joy seemed to pervade all her fair form. So Sir Philip Hastings -found her on the terrace with Marlow when he returned from Hartwell. -She was dressed in a riding habit, and one word would have explained -all the gaiety of her mood. Lady Hastings, never very consequent in -her actions, had wished for some one of those things which ladies wish -for, and which ladies only can choose. She had felt too unwell to go -for it herself; and although she had not a fortnight before expressed -her strong disapprobation of her daughter and Mr. Marlow even walking -out alone in the park, she had now sent them on horseback to procure -what she wanted. They had enjoyed one of those glorious rides over the -downs, which seem to pour into the heart fresh feelings of delight at -every step, flooding the sense with images of beauty, and making the -blood dance freely in the veins. It seemed also, both to her and -Marlow, that a part of the prohibition was removed, and though they -might not perhaps be permitted to walk out together, Lady Hastings -could hardly for the future forbid them to ride. Thus they had come -back very well pleased, with light hearts within, and gay hopes -fluttering round them. - -Sir Philip Hastings, on the other hand, had passed a day of -bitterness, and hard, painful thought. On his first visit to the -county town, he had, as I have shown, been obliged once more to put -off decision. Then came his conference with Mrs. Hazleton. Then he had -returned to his lawyer's office, and found that the wanting evidence -had been supplied by his opponents. All that he had demanded was -there; and no apparent flaw in the case of his adversary. He had -always announced his attention of withdrawing opposition if such -proofs were afforded, and he did so now, with stern, rigid, and -somewhat hasty determination--but not without bitterness and regret. -His ride home, too, was troubled with dull and grievous thoughts, and -his whole mind was out of tune, and unfit to harmonize with gaiety of -any kind. He forgot that poor Emily could not see what had been -passing in his bosom, could not know all that had occurred to disturb -and annoy him, and her light and cheerful spirits seemed an offence to -him. - -Sir Philip passed on, after he had spoken a few words to Marlow, and -sought Lady Hastings in the room below, where she usually sat after -she came down. Sir Philip, as I have shown, had not been nurtured in a -tender school, and he was not very apt by gentle preparation to soothe -the communication of any bad tidings. Without any circumlocution, -then, or prefatory remarks of any kind, he addressed his wife in the -following words: "This matter is decided, my dear Rachel. I am no -longer Sir Philip Hastings, and it is necessary that we should remove -from this house within a month, to your old home--the Court. It will -be necessary, moreover, that, we should look with some degree of -accuracy into the state of our future income, and our expenditure. -With your property, and the estate which I inherit from my mother, -which being settled on the younger children, no one can take from me, -we shall still have more than enough for happiness, but the style of -our living must be altered. We shall have plenty of time to think of -that, however, and to do what we have to do methodically." - -Lady Hastings, or as we should rather call her now, Mistress Hastings, -seemed at first hardly to comprehend her husband's meaning, and she -replied, "You do not mean to say, Philip, that this horrible cause is -decided?" - -"As far as I am concerned, entirely," replied Sir Philip Hastings. "I -shall offer no farther defence." - -Lady Hastings fell into a fit of hysterics, and her husband knowing -that it was useless to argue with her in such circumstances, called -her maid, and left her. - -There was but a dull dinner-party at the Hall that day. Sir Philip was -gloomy and reserved, and the news which had spread over the house, as -to the great loss of property which he had sustained, soon robbed his -daughter of her cheerfulness. - -Marlow, too, was very grave; for he thought his friend had acted, not -only hastily, but imprudently. Lady Hastings did not come down to -dinner, and as soon as the meal was over Emily retired to her mother's -dressing-room, leaving Marlow and her father with their wine. Sir -Philip avoided the subject of his late loss, however, and when Marlow -himself alluded to it, replied very briefly. - -"It is done," he said, "and I will cast the matter entirely from my -mind, Marlow. I will endeavor, as far as possible, to do in all -circumstances what is right, whatever be the anguish it costs me. -Having done what is right, my next effort shall be to crush every -thing like regret or repining. There is only one thing in life which -could give me any permanent pain, and that would be to have an -unworthy child." - -Marlow did not seem to remark the peculiar tone in which the last -words were uttered, and he replied, "There, at least, you are most -happy, Sir Philip; for surely Emily is a blessing which may well -compensate for any misfortunes." - -"I trust so--I think so," said Sir Philip, in a dry and hasty manner, -and then changing the subject, he added, "Call me merely Philip -Hastings, my good friend. I say with Lord Verulam, 'The Chancellor is -gone.' I mean I am no longer a baronet. That will not distress me, -however, and as to the loss of fortune, I can bear it with the most -perfect indifference." - -Mr. Hastings reckoned in some degree without his host, however. He -knew not all the petty annoyances that were in store for him. The -costs he had to pay, the back-rents which were claimed, the long and -complicated accounts that were to be passed, the eager struggle which -was made to deprive him of many things undoubtedly his own; all were -matters of almost daily trouble and irritation during the next six -months. He had greatly miscalculated the whole amount of expenses. -Having lived always considerably within his income, he had imagined -that he had quite a sufficient amount in ready money to pay all the -demands that could be made upon him. But such was far from being the -case. Before all the debts were paid, and the accounts closed, he was -obliged to raise money upon his life-interest in his mother's -property, and to remain dependent, as it were, upon his wife's income -for his whole means. These daily annoyances had a much greater effect -upon Mr. Hastings than any great and serious misfortune could have -had. He became morose, impatient, gloomy. His mind brooded over all -that had occurred, and all that was occurring. He took perverted views -of many things, and adhered to them with an obstinacy that nothing -could shake. - -In the mean time all the neighbors and friends of the family -endeavored to show their sympathy and kindness by every means in their -power. Even before the family quitted the Hall, the visitors were more -numerous than they had ever been before, and this was some consolation -to Mistress Hastings, though quite the contrary to her husband, who -did not indeed appear very frequently amongst the guests, but remained -in his own study as much as possible. - -It was a very painful day for every one, and for Emily especially, -when they passed the door of the old Hall for the last time, and took -their way through the park towards the Court. The furniture in great -part, the books, the plate, had gone before; the rooms looked vacant -and desolate, and as Emily passed through them one by one, ere she -went down to the carriage, there was certainly nothing very attractive -in their aspect. But there were spots there associated with many dear -memories--feelings--fancies--thoughts--all the bright things of early, -happy youth; and it was very bitter for her to leave them all, and -know that she was never to visit them again. - -She might, and probably would, have fallen into one of her deep -reveries, but she struggled against it, knowing that both her father -and her mother would require comfort and consolation in the coming -hours. She exerted herself, then, steadily and courageously to bear up -without a show of grief, and she succeeded even too well to satisfy -her father. He thought her somewhat light and frivolous, and judged it -very strange that his daughter could quit her birth-place, and her -early home, without, apparently, one regretful sigh. He himself sat -stern, and gloomy, and silent, in the carriage, as it rolled away. -Mistress Hastings leaned back, with her handkerchief over her eyes, -weeping bitterly. Emily alone was calmly cheerful, and she maintained -this demeanor all the way along till they reached the Court, and -separated till dinner-time. Then, however, she wept bitterly and long. - -Before she had descended to meet her parents at dinner, she did her -best to efface all traces of her sad employment for the last hour. She -did not succeed completely, and when she entered the drawing-room, and -spoke cheerfully to her father, he raised his eyes to her face, and -detected, at once, the marks of recent tears on her swollen eyelids. - -"She has been weeping," said Mr. Hastings to himself; "can I have been -mistaken?" - -A gleam of the truth shot through his mind, and comforted him much, -but alas, it was soon to be lost again. - -From feelings of delicacy, Marlow had absented himself that day, but -on the following morning he was there early, and thenceforward was a -daily visitor at the Court. He applied himself particularly to cheer -Emily's father, and often spent many hours with him, withdrawing Mr. -Hastings' mind from all that was painful in his own situation, by -leading it into those discussions of abstract propositions of which he -was so fond. But Marlow was not the only frequent visitor at the -Court. Mrs. Hazleton was there two or three times in the week, and was -all kindness, gentleness, and sympathy. She had tutored herself well, -and she met Mr. Marlow as Emily's affianced husband, with an ease and -indifference which was marvellously well assumed. To Mrs. Hastings she -proved the greatest comfort, although it is not be asserted that the -counsels which she gave her, proved at all comfortable to the rest of -the household, and yet Mrs. Hazleton never committed herself. Mrs. -Hastings could not have repeated one word that she said, that any one -on earth could have found fault with. She had a mode of insinuating -advice without speaking it--of eking out her words by looks and -gestures full of significance to the person who beheld them, but -perfectly indescribable to others. - -She was not satisfied, however, with being merely the friend and -confidante of Mrs. Hastings. She must win Emily's father also, and she -succeeded so well that Mr. Hastings quite forgot all doubts and -suspicions, and causes of offence, and learned to look upon Mrs. -Hazleton as a really kind and amiable person, and as consistent as -could be expected of any woman. - -Not one word, however, did Mrs. Hazleton say in the hearing of Emily's -father which could tend in any degree to depreciate the character of -Mr. Marlow, or be construed into a disapproval of the proposed -marriage. She was a great deal too wise for that, knowing the -character of Mr. Hastings sufficiently to see that she could effect no -object, and only injure herself by such a course. - -To Emily she was all that was kind and delightful. She was completely -the Mrs. Hazleton of former days; but with the young girl she was less -successful than with her parents. Emily could never forget the visit -to her house, and what had there occurred, and the feelings which she -entertained towards Mrs. Hazleton were always those of doubt. Her -character was a riddle to Emily, as well it might be. There was -nothing upon which she could definitely fix as an indication of a bad -heart, or of duplicity of nature, and yet she doubted; nor did Marlow -at all assist in clearing her mind; for although they often spoke of -Mrs. Hazleton, and Marlow admitted all her bright and shining -qualities, yet he became very taciturn when Emily entered more deeply -into that lady's character. Marlow likewise had his doubts, and to say -sooth, he was not at all well pleased to see Mrs. Hazleton so -frequently with Mrs. Hastings. He did not well know what it was he -feared, but yet there was a something which instinctively told him -that his interests in Emily's family would not find the most favorable -advocate in Mrs. Hazleton. - -Such was the state of things when one evening there was assembled at -the house of Mr. Hastings, a small dinner party--the first which had -been given since his loss of property. The summer had returned, the -weather was beautiful, the guests were cheerful and intellectual, and -the dinner passed off happily enough. There were several gentlemen and -several ladies present, and amongst the latter was Mrs. Hazleton. -Politics at that time ran high: the people were not satisfied -altogether with the King whom they had themselves chosen, and several -acts of intolerance had proved that promises made before the -attainment of power are not always very strictly maintained when power -has been reached. Mr. Hastings had never meddled in the strife of -party. He had a thorough contempt for policy and politicians, but he -did not at all object to argue upon the general principles of -government, in an abstract manner, and very frequently startled his -hearers by opinions, not only unconstitutional, and wide and far from -any of the received notions of the day, but sometimes also, very -violent, and sometimes, at first sight, irreconcilable with each -other. On the present occasion the conversation after dinner took a -political turn, and straying away from their wine, the gentlemen -walked out into the gardens, which were still beautifully kept up, and -prolonged their discussion in the open air. The ladies too--as all -pictures show they were fond of doing in those days--were walking -amongst the flowers, not in groups, but scattered here and there. -Marlow was naturally making his way to the side of Emily, who was -tying up a shrub at no great distance from the door, but Mrs. Hazleton -unkindly called him to her, to tell her the name of a flower which she -did not know. In the mean time Mr. Hastings took his daughter by the -arm, leaning gently upon her, and walking up and down the terrace, -while he continued his discussion with a Northumberland gentleman -known in history as Sir John Fenwick. "The case seems to be this," -said Mr. Hastings, in reply to some question or the other; "all must -depend upon the necessity. Violent means are bad as a remedy for any -thing but violent evils, but the greatness of the evil will often -justify any degree of vigor in the means. Will any one tell me that -Brutus was not justified in stabbing Cæsar? Will any one tell me that -William Tell was not justified in all that he did against the tyrant -of his country? I will not pretend to justify the English regicides, -not only because they condemned a man by a process unknown to our -laws, and repugnant to all justice, but because they committed an act -for which there was no absolute necessity. Where an absolute necessity -is shown, indeed--where no other means can be found of obtaining -freedom, justice and security, I see no reason why a King should not -be put to death as well as any other man. Nay more, he who does the -deed with a full appreciation of its importance, a conscience clear of -any private motives, and a reasoning sense of all the bearings of the -act he commits, merits a monument rather than a gibbet, though in -these days he is sure to obtain the one and not the other." - -"Hush, hush, do not speak so loud, my dear sir," said Sir John -Fenwick; "less than those words brought Sidney's head to the block." - -"I am not afraid of mine," replied Mr. Hastings, with a faint smile; -"mine are mere abstract notions with regard to such things; very -little dangerous to any crowned heads, and if they thought fit to put -down such opinions, they would have to burn more than one half of all -the books we have derived from Rome." - -Sir John Fenwick would not pursue the subject, however, and turned the -conversation in another course. He thought indeed that it had gone far -enough, especially when a young lady was present; for he was one of -those men who have no confidence in any woman's discretion, and he -knew well, though he did not profit much by his knowledge, that things -very slight, when taken abstractedly, may become very dangerous if -forced into connection with events. Philip Hastings would have said -what he did say, before any ears in Europe, without the slightest -fear, but as it proved, he had said too much for his own safety. No -one indeed seemed to have noticed the very strong opinions he had -expressed except Sir John Fenwick himself, and shortly after the party -gathered together again, and the conversation became general and not -very interesting. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - - -Men have lived and died in the pursuit of two objects the least -worthy, on which the high mind of man could ever fix, out of all the -vain illusions that lead us forward through existence from youth to -old age: the philosopher's stone, and the elixir of life. Gold, gold, -sordid gold--not competence--not independence, but wealth--profuse, -inexhaustible wealth--the hard food of Cr[oe]sus; strange that it -should ever form the one great object of an immortal spirit! But -stranger still, that a being born to higher destinies should seek to -pin itself down to this dull earth forever--to dwell in a clay hut, -when a palace gates are open--to linger in a prison, when freedom may -be had--to outlive affections, friendships, hope and happiness--to -remain desolate in a garden where every flower has withered. To seek -the philosopher's stone--even could it have been found--was a madness: -but to desire the elixir of life was a worse insanity. - -There was once, however, in the world's history a search--an eager -search, for that which at first sight may seem nearly the same as the -great elixir; but which was in reality very, very different. - -We are told by the historians of America, that a tradition prevailed -amongst the Indians of Puerto Rico, that in one of the islands on the -coast, there was a fountain which possessed the marvellous power of -restoring, to any one who bathed in its waters, all the vigor and -freshness of youth, and that some of the Spanish adventurers sought it -anxiously, but sought in vain. Here indeed was an object worthy of -desire--here, what the heart might well yearn for, and mourn to find -impossible. - -Oh, that fountain of youth, what might it not give back! The easy -pliancy of limb: the light activity of body: the calm, sweet sleep: -the power of enjoyment and acquisition: the freshness of the heart: -the brightness of the fancy: the brilliant dreams: the glorious -aspirations: the beauty and the gentleness: the innocence: the love. -We, who stand upon the shoal of memory, and look back in our faint -dreams, to the brighter land left far behind, may well long for that -sweet fountain which could renew--not life--but youth. - -Oh youth--youth! Give me but one year of youth again. And it shall -come. I see it there, beyond the skies, that fountain of youth, in the -land where all flowers are immortal. - -It is very strange, however, that with some men, when youth is gone, -its very memories die also. They can so little recollect the feelings -of that brighter time, that they cannot comprehend them in others: -that they become a mystery--a tale written in a tongue they have -forgotten. - -It was so with Philip Hastings, and so also with his wife. Neither -seemed to comprehend the feelings of Marlow and Emily; but her father -understood them least. He had consented to their union: he approved of -her choice; but yet it seemed strange and unpleasant to him, that her -thoughts should be so completely given to her lover. He could hardly -believe that the intense affection she felt for another, was -compatible with love towards her parent. He knew not, or seemed to -have forgotten that the ordinance to leave all and cleave unto her -husband, is written in woman's heart as plainly as in the Book. - -Nevertheless, that which he felt was not the least like -jealousy--although I have seen such a thing even in a parent towards a -child. It was a part of the problem of Emily's character, which he was -always trying to solve without success. - -"Here," he thought, "she has known this young man, but a short -time--no years--not very many months; and yet, it is clear, that in -that short space, she has learned to love him better than those to -whom she is bound by every tie of long enduring affection and -tenderness." - -Had he thought of comparing at all, her conduct and feelings with -those of his own youth, he would still have marvelled; for he would -have said, "I had no tenderness shown me in my young days--I was not -the companion, the friend, the idol, the peculiar loved one of father -or mother, so long as my elder brother lived. I loved her who first -really loved me. From _my parents_, I had met small affection, and but -little kindness. It was therefore natural that I should fix my love -elsewhere, as they had fixed theirs. But with my child, the case is -very different." - -Yet he loved Marlow well--was fond of his society--was well pleased -that he was to be his daughter's husband; but even in his case, Mr. -Hastings was surprised in a certain degree; for Marlow did not, and -could not conceal that he loved Emily's society better than her -father's--that he would rather a great deal be with her than with -Brutus himself or Cato. - -This desire on the part of Marlow to be ever by her side, was a great -stumbling-block in the way of Mr. Hastings' schemes for re-educating -Marlow, and giving that strength and vigor to his character of which -his future father-in-law had thought it susceptible. He made very -little progress, and perhaps Marlow's society might even have had some -influence upon him--might have softened--mitigated his character; but -that there were counteracting influences continually at work. - -All that had lately happened--the loss of fortune and of station--the -dark and irritating suspicions which had been instilled into his mind -in regard to his child's conduct--the doubts which had been produced -of her frankness and candor--the fact before his eyes, that she loved -another better, far better, than himself, with a kind word, now and -then, from Mrs. Hazleton, spoken to drive the dart deeper into his -heart, had rendered him somewhat morose and gloomy,--apt to take a bad -view of other people's actions, and to judge less fairly than he -always wished to judge. When Marlow hastened away from him to rejoin -Emily, and paint, with her, in all the brightest colors of -imagination, a picture of the glowing future, her father would walk -solitary and thoughtful, giving himself up to dark and unprofitable -reveries. - -Mrs. Hastings in the mean time would take counsel with Mrs. Hazleton, -and they would settle between them that the father was already -dissatisfied with the engagement he had aided to bring about, and that -a little persevering opposition on the part of the mother, would -ultimately bring that engagement to an end. - -Mrs. Hastings, too, thought--or rather seemed to feel, for she did not -reduce it to thought--that she had now a greater right to exercise -some authority in regard to her daughter's marriage, as Emily's whole -fortune must proceed from her own property. She ventured to oppose -more boldly, and to express her opinion against the marriage, both to -her husband and her child. It was against the advice of Mrs. Hazleton -that she did so; for that lady knew Mr. Hastings far better than his -own wife knew him; and while Emily's cheek burned, and her eye swam in -tears, Mr. Hastings replied in so stern and bitter a tone that Mrs. -Hastings shrunk back alarmed at what she herself had done. - -But the word had been spoken: the truth revealed. Both Mr. Hastings -and Emily were thenceforth aware that she wished the engagement -between her daughter and Marlow broken off--she was opposed to the -marriage; and would oppose it. - -The effect of this revelation of her views upon her child and her -husband, was very different. Emily had colored with surprise and -grief--not, as her father thought, with anger; and she resolved -thenceforth to endeavor to soften her mother's feelings towards him -she loved, and to win her consent to that upon which all her own -happiness depended; but in which her own happiness could not be -complete without a mother's approbation. - -Mr. Hastings, on the contrary, entertained no expectation that his -wife would ever change her views, even if she changed her course. Some -knowledge--some comprehension of her character had been forced upon -him during the many years of their union; and he believed that, if all -open remonstrance, and declared opposition had been crushed by his -sharp and resolute answer, there would nevertheless be continual or -ever recurring efforts on Mrs. Hastings' part, to have her own way, -and thwart both his purposes and Emily's affection. He prepared to -encounter that sort of irritating guerrilla warfare of last words, and -sneers, and innuendoes, by which a wife sometimes endeavors to -overcome a husband's resolutions; and he hardened himself to resist. -He knew that she could not conquer in the strife; but he determined to -put an end to the warfare, either by some decided expression of his -anger at such proceedings, or by uniting Emily to Marlow, much sooner -than he had at first proposed. - -The latter seemed the easiest method, and there was a great chance of -the marriage, which it had been agreed should be delayed till Emily -was nineteen, taking place much earlier, when events occurred which -produced even a longer delay. - -One of the first steps taken by Mr. Hastings to show his wife that her -unreasonable opposition would have no effect upon him, was not only to -remove the prohibition of those lovers' rambles which Mrs. Hastings -had forbidden, but to send his daughter and her promised husband forth -together on any pretext that presented itself. He took the opportunity -of doing so, first, when his wife was present, and on the impulse of -the moment, she ventured to object. One look--one word from her -husband, however, silenced her; for they were a look and word too -stern to be trifled with, and Emily went to dress for her walk; but -she went with the tears in her eyes. She was grieved to find that all -that appertained to her happiness was likely to become a cause of -dissension between her father and her mother. Had Marlow not been -concerned--had his happiness not been also at stake--she would have -sacrificed any thing--every thing--to avoid such a result; but she -felt she had no right to yield to caprice, where he was to suffer as -well as herself. - -The walk took place, and it might have been very sweet to both, had -not the scene which had immediately preceded poured a drop of -bitterness into their little cup of joy. Such walks were often renewed -during the month that followed; but Emily was not so happy as she -might have been; for she saw that her father assumed a sterner, colder -tone towards his wife, and believed that she might be the unwilling -cause of this painful alienation. She knew not that it proceeded -partly from another source--that Mr. Hastings had discovered, or -divined, that his wife had some feeling of increased power and -authority from the fact of his having lost his large estates, and of -her property being all that remained to them both. - -Poor Emily! Marlow's love, that dream of joy, seemed destined to -produce, for a time at least, nothing but grief and anxiety. Her -reveries became more frequent, and more deep, and though her lover -could call her from them in a moment, no one else had the power. - -One day, Marlow and his Emily--for whom every day his love increased; -for he knew and comprehended her perfectly, and he was the only -one--had enjoyed a more happy and peaceful ramble than usual, through -green lanes, and up the hill, and amidst the bright scenery which lay -on the confines of the two counties, and they returned slowly towards -the house, not anticipating much comfort there. As they approached, -they saw from the road a carriage standing before the door, dusty, as -if from a long journey, but with the horses still attached. There were -three men, too, with the carriage, besides the driver, and they were -walking their horses up and down the terrace, as if their stay was to -be but short. It was an unusual number of attendants, even in those -days, to accompany a carriage in the country, except upon some visit -of great ceremony; and the vehicle itself--a large, old, rumbling -coach, which had seen better days--gave no indication of any great -state or dignity on the part of its owner. - -Why, she knew not, but a feeling of fear, or at least anxiety, came -over Emily as she gazed, and turning to Marlow, she said, "Who can -these visitors be?" - -"I know not, indeed, dear love," he answered, "but the equipage is -somewhat strange. Were we in France," he added, with a laugh, "I -should think it belonged to an exempt, bearing a _lettre de cachet_." - -Emily smiled also, for the idea of her, father having incurred the -anger of any government or violated any law seemed to her quite out of -the question. - -When they approached the door, however, they were met by a servant, -with a grave and anxious countenance, who told her that her father -wished to see her immediately in the dining hall. - -"Is there any one with him?" asked Emily, in some surprise. - -"Yes, Mistress Emily," replied the man, "there is a strange gentleman -with him. But you had better go in at once; for I am afraid things are -not going well." - -Marlow drew her arm through his, and pressed it gently to make her -feel support; and then went into the eating-room, as it was usually -called, by her side. - -When they entered they found the scene a strange and painful one. Mr. -Hastings was seated near a window, with his hat on, and his cloak cast -down on a chair beside him. His wife was placed near him, weeping -bitterly; and at the large table in the middle of the room was a -coarse-looking man, in the garb of a gentleman, but with no other -indication but that of dress of belonging to a superior class. He was -very corpulent, and his face, though shadowed by an enormous wig, was -large and bloated. There was food and wine before him, and to both he -seemed to be doing ample justice, without taking any notice of the -master of the house or his weeping lady. - -Mr. Hastings, however, rose and advanced towards his daughter, as soon -as she entered, and in an instant the eye of the gormandizing guest -was raised from his plate and turned towards the party, with a look of -eager suspicion. - -"Oh, my dear father, what is this?" exclaimed Emily, running towards -him. - -"One of those accidents of life, my child," replied Mr. Hastings, "from -which I had hoped to be exempt--most foolishly. But it seems," he -continued, "no conduct, however reserved, can shield one from the -unjust suspicions of princes and governments." - -"Very good cause for suspicion, sir," said the man at the table, -quaffing a large glass of wine. "Mr. Secretary would not have signed a -warrant without strong evidence. Vernon is a cautious man, sir, a very -cautious man." - -"And who is this person?" asked Marlow pointing to the personage who -spoke. - -"A messenger of the powers that be," replied Mr. Hastings; "it seems -that because Sir John Fenwick dined here a short time ago, and has -since been accused of some practices against the state, his Majesty's -advisers have thought fit to connect me with his doings, or their own -suspicions, though they might as well have sent down to arrest my -butler or my footman, and I am now to have the benefit of a journey to -the Tower of London under arrest." - -"Or to Newgate," said the messenger, significantly. - -"To London, at all events," replied Mr. Hastings. - -"I will go with you," said Marlow, at once; but before the prisoner -could answer, the messenger interfered, saying, "That I cannot allow." - -"I am afraid you must allow it," replied Marlow, "whether it pleases -you or not." - -"I will have no one in the carriage with my prisoner," said the -messenger, striking the table gently with the haft of his knife. - -"That may be," answered Marlow; "but you will not, I presume, pretend -to prevent my going where I please in my own carriage; and when once -in London, I shall find no difficulty, knowing Mr. Vernon well." - -The latter announcement made a great change in the messenger's -demeanor, and he became much more tame and docile from the moment it -struck his ear. - -Mr. Hastings indeed would fain have persuaded his young friend to -remain where he was, and looked at Emily with some of that tenderer -feeling of a parent which so often prompts to every sacrifice for a -child's sake. But Emily thanked Marlow eagerly for proposing to go; -and Mrs. Hastings, even, expressed some gratitude. - -The arrangements were soon made. There being no time to send for -Marlow's own carriage and horses, it was agreed that he should take a -carriage belonging to Mr. Hastings, with his horses, for the first -stage; the prisoner's valet was to accompany his friend, and immediate -orders were given for the necessary preparations. - -When all was ready, Emily asked some question of her father, in a low -tone, to which he replied, "On no account, my child. I will send for -you and your mother should need be; but do not stir before I do. This -is a mere cloud--a passing shower, which will soon be gone, and leave -the sky as bright as ever. We do not live in an age when kings of -England can play at foot-ball with the heads of innocent men, and I, -as you all know, am innocent." - -He then embraced his wife and child with more tenderness than he was -wont to show, and entering the carriage first, was followed by the -messenger. The other men mounted their horses, and Marlow did not -linger long behind the sad cavalcade. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - - -Philip Hastings had calculated much upon his Roman firmness; and he -could have borne death, or any great and sudden calamity, with -fortitude; but small evils often affect us more than great ones. He -knew not what it is to suffer long imprisonment, to undergo the -wearing, grinding process of life within a prison's walls. He knew not -the effect of long suspense either, of the fretful impatience for some -turn in our fate, of the dull monotony of long continued expectation -and protracted disappointment, of the creeping on of leaden despair, -which craves nothing in the end but some change, be it for better or -for worse. - -They took him to Newgate--the prison of common felons, and there, in a -small room, strictly guarded, he remained for more than two months. At -first he would send for no lawyer, for he fancied that there must -either be some error on the part of the government, or that the -suspicion against him must be so slight as to be easily removable. But -day went by on day, and hour followed hour, without any appearance of -a change in his fate. There came a great alteration, however, in his -character. He became morose, gloomy, irritable. Every dark point in -his own fate and history--every painful event which had occurred for -many years--every doubt or suspicion which had spread gloom and -anxiety through his mind, was now magnified a thousand-fold by long, -brooding, solitary meditation. He pondered such things daily, hourly, -in the broad day, in the dead, still night, when want of exercise -deprived him of sleep, till his brain seemed to turn, and his whole -heart was filled with stern bitterness. - -Marlow, who visited him every day by permission of the Secretary of -State, found him each day much changed, both in appearance and -manner; and even his conversation gave but small relief. He heard with -small emotion the news of the day, or of his own family. He read the -letters of his wife and daughter coldly. He heard even the -intelligence that Sir John Fenwick was condemned for high treason, and -to die on a scaffold, without any appearance of interest. He remained -self-involved and thoughtful. - -At length, after a long interval--for the government was undecided how -to proceed in his and several other cases connected with that famous -conspiracy--a day was appointed for his first examination by the -Secretary of State; for matters were then conducted in a very -different manner from that in which they are treated at present; and -he was carried under guard to Whitehall. - -Vernon was a calm and not unamiable man; and treating the prisoner -with unaffected gentleness, he told him that the government was very -anxious to avoid the effusion of any more blood, and expressed a hope -that Mr. Hastings would afford such explanations of his conduct as -would save the pain of proceeding against him. He did not wish by any -means, he said, to induce him to criminate himself; but merely to give -such explanations as he might think fit. - -Philip Hastings replied, with stern bitterness, that before he could -give any explanations, he must learn what there was in his conduct to -explain. "It has ever been open, plain, and straightforward," he said. -"I have taken no part in conspiracies, very little part in politics. I -have nothing to fear from any thing I myself can utter; for I have -nothing to conceal. Tell me what is the charge against me, and I will -answer it boldly. Ask what questions you please; and I will reply at -once to those to which I can find a reply in my own knowledge." - -"I thought the nature of the charge had been made fully known to you," -replied Vernon. "However, it is soon stated. You are charged, Mr. -Hastings, with having taken a most decided part in the criminal -designs, if not in the criminal acts, of that unfortunate man Sir John -Fenwick. Nay, of having first suggested to him the darkest of all his -designs, namely, the assassination of his Majesty." - -"I suggest the assassination of the King!" exclaimed Mr. Hastings. "I -propose such an act! Sir, the charge is ridiculous. Has not the only -share I ever took in politics been to aid in placing King William upon -the throne, and consistently to support his government since? What the -ministers of the crown can seek by bringing such a charge against me, -I know not; but it is evidently fictitious, and of course has an -object." - -Vernon's cheek grew somewhat red, and he replied warmly, "That is an -over-bold assertion, sir. But I will soon satisfy you that it is -unjust, and that the crown has not acted without cause. Allow me, -then, to tell you, that no sooner had the conspiracy of Sir John -Fenwick been detected, and his apprehension been made known, than -information was privately given--from your own part of the country--to -the following effect;" and he proceeded try to read from a paper, -which had evidently been folded in the form of a letter, the ensuing -words: "That on the ---- day of May last, when walking in the gardens -of his own house, called 'The Court,' he--that is yourself, sir--used -the following language to Sir John Fenwick: 'When no other means can -be found of obtaining justice, freedom, and security, I see no reason -why a king should not be put to death as well as any other man. He who -does the deed merits a monument rather than a gibbet.' Such was the -information, sir, on which government first acted in causing your -apprehension." - -The Secretary paused, and for a few moments Mr. Hastings remained -gazing down in silence, like a man utterly confounded. Vernon thought -he had touched him home; but the emotions in the prisoner's bosom, -though very violent, were very different from those which the -Secretary attributed to him. He remembered the conversation well, but -he remembered also that the only one who, besides Sir John Fenwick, -was with him at the moment, was his own child. I will not dwell upon -his feelings, but they absorbed him entirely, till the Secretary went -on, saying--"Not satisfied with such slender information, Mr. -Hastings, the government caused that unhappy criminal, Sir John -Fenwick, to be asked, after his fate was fixed, if he recollected your -having used those words to him, and he replied, something very like -them.'" - -"And I reply the same," exclaimed Philip Hastings, sternly. "I did use -those words, or words very like them. But, sir, they were in -connection with others, which, had they been repeated likewise, would -have taken all criminal application from them. May I be permitted to -look at that letter in your hand, to see how much was really told, how -much suppressed?" - -"I have read it all to you," said Mr. Vernon, "but you may look at it -if you please," and he handed it to him across the table. Philip -Hastings spread it out before him, trembling violently, and then drew -another letter from his pocket, and laid them aide by side. He ran his -eye from one to the other for a moment or two, and then sunk slowly -down, fainting upon the floor. - -While a turnkey and one of the messengers raised him, and some efforts -were made to bring him back to consciousness, Mr. Vernon walked round -the table and looked at the two letters which were still lying on it. -He compared them eagerly, anxiously. The handwriting of the one was -very similar to that of the other, and in the beginning of that which -Mr. Hastings had taken from his pocket, the Secretary found the words, -"My dear father." It was signed, "Emily Hastings;" and Vernon -instantly comprehended the nature of the terrible emotion he had -witnessed. - -He was really, as I have said, a kind and humane man, and he felt very -much for the prisoner, who was speedily brought to himself again, and -seated in a chair before the table. - -"Perhaps, Mr. Hastings," said Vernon, "we had better not protract this -conversation today. I will see you again to-morrow, at this hour, if -you would prefer that arrangement." - -"Not at all, sir," answered the prisoner, "I will answer now, for -though the body be weak, the spirit is strong. Remember, however, that -I am not pleading for life. Life is valueless to me. The block and axe -would be a relief. I am only pleading to prevent my own character from -being stained, and to frustrate this horrible design. I used the words -imputed to me; but if I recollect right, with several qualifications, -even in the sentence which has been extracted. But before that, many -other words had passed which entirely altered the whole bearing of the -question. The conversation began about the regicides of the great -rebellion, and although my father was of the party in arms against the -King, I expressed my unqualified disapprobation of their conduct in -putting their sovereign to death. I then approached as a mere matter -of abstract reasoning, in which, perhaps, I am too apt to indulge, the -subject of man's right to resist by any means an unendurable tyranny, -and I quoted the example of Brutus and William Tell; and it was in the -course of these abstract remarks, that I used the words which have -been cited. I give you my word, however, and pledge my honor, that I -entertained no thought, and had no cause whatever to believe that Sir -John Fenwick who was dining with me as an old acquaintance, -entertained hostile designs against the government of his native -land." - -"Your admitted opinions, Mr. Hastings," said Vernon, "seem to me to be -very dangerous ones." - -"That may be," replied the prisoner, "but in this country at least, -sir, you cannot kill a man for opinions." - -"No; but those opinions, expressed in conversation with others who -proceed to acts," replied Vernon, "place a man in a very dangerous -position, Mr. Hastings. I will not conceal from you that you are in -some peril; but at the same time I am inclined to think that the -evidence, without your admissions this day, might prove insufficient, -and it is not my intention to take advantage of any thing you have -said. I shall report to his Majesty accordingly; but the proceedings -of the government will be guided by the opinion of the law officers of -the crown, and not by mine. I therefore can assure you of nothing -except my sincere grief at the situation in which you are placed." - -"I little heed the result of your report, sir," replied Mr. Hastings; -"life, I say, is valueless to me, and if I am brought to trial for -words very innocently spoken, I shall only make the same defence I -have done this day, and I shall call no witness; the only witness of -the whole," he added with stern, concentrated bitterness, "is probably -on the side of the crown." - -Mr. Hastings was then removed to Newgate, leaving the two letters on -the table behind him, and as soon as he was gone, Mr. Vernon sent a -messenger to an inn near Charing Cross, to say he should be glad to -speak for a few moments with Mr. Marlow. In about half an hour Marlow -was there, and was received by Vernon as an old acquaintance. The door -was immediately closed, and Marlow seated himself near the table, -turning his eyes away, however, as an honorable man from the papers -which lay on it. - -"I have had an interview with your friend, Mr. Marlow," said the -Secretary, "and the scene has been a very gainful one. Mr. Hastings -has been more affected than I expected, and actually fainted." - -Marlow's face expressed unutterable astonishment, for the idea of -Philip Hastings fainting under any apprehension whatever, could never -enter into the mind of any one who knew him. - -"Good God!" he exclaimed, "what could be the cause of that! Not fear, -I am sure." - -"Something more painful than even fear, I believe," replied Mr. -Vernon; "Mr. Hastings has a daughter, I believe?" - -"Yes, sir, he has," replied Marlow, somewhat stiffly. - -"Do you know her handwriting?" asked the Secretary. - -"Yes, perfectly well," answered Marlow. - -"Then be so good as to take up that letter next you," said Vernon, -"and tell me if it is in her hand." - -Marlow took up the paper, glanced at it, and at once said, "Yes;" but -the next instant he corrected himself, saying, "No, no--it is very -like Emily's hand--very, very like; but more constrained." - -"May not that proceed from an attempt to disguise her hand?" asked -Vernon. - -"Or from an attempt on the part of some other to imitate it," rejoined -Marlow; "but this is very strange, Mr. Vernon; may I read this -through?" - -"Certainly," replied the Secretary, and Marlow read every word three -or four times over with eager attention. They seemed to affect him -very much, for notwithstanding the Secretary's presence, he started up -and paced the room for a minute or two in thought. - -"I must unravel this dark mystery," he said at length. "Mr. Vernon, -there have been strange things taking place lately in the family of -Mr. Hastings. Things which have created in my mind a suspicion that -some secret and external agency is at work to destroy his peace as -well as to ruin his happiness, and still more, I fear, to ruin the -happiness of his daughter. This letter is but one link in a long chain -of suspicious facts, and I am resolved to sift the whole matter to the -bottom. The time allowed me to do so, must depend upon the course you -determine to pursue towards Mr. Hastings. If you resolve to proceed -against him I must lose no time--although I think I need hardly say, -there is small chance of your success upon such evidence as this;" and -he struck the letter with his fingers. - -"We have more evidence, such as it is," replied Vernon, "and he -himself admits having used those words." - -Marlow paused thoughtfully, and then replied, "He may have used -them--he is very likely to have used them; but it must have been quite -abstractedly, and with no reference to any existing circumstance. I -remember the occasion on which Sir John Fenwick dined with him, -perfectly. I was there myself. Now let me see if I can recall all the -facts. Yes, I can, distinctly. During the whole of dinner--during the -short time we sat after dinner, those words were never used; nor were -conspiracies and treason ever thought of. I remember, too, from a -particular circumstance, that when we went out into the gardens Mr. -Hastings took his daughter's arm, and walked up and down the terrace -with Sir John Fenwick at his side. That must have been the moment. But -I need hardly point out to you, Mr. Vernon, that such was not a time -when any man in his senses, and especially a shrewd, cunning, timid -man, like Sir John Fenwick, would have chosen for the development of -treasonable designs." - -"Were any other persons near?" asked Vernon; "the young lady might -have been in the conspiracy as well as her father." - -Marlow laughed. "There were a dozen near," he answered; "they were -subject to interruption at any moment--nay, they could not have gone -on for three minutes; for that space of time did not elapse after the -gentlemen entered the garden where the ladies were, before I was at -Emily's side, and not one word of this kind was spoken afterwards." - -"Then what could have induced her to report those words to the -government?" asked Mr. Vernon. - -"She never did so," replied Marlow, earnestly; "this is not her -handwriting, though the imitation is very good--and now, sir," he -continued, "if it be proper, will you explain to me what course you -intend to pursue, that I may act accordingly? For as I before said, I -am resolved to search this mystery out into its darkest recesses. It -has gone on too long already." - -Vernon smiled. "You are asking a good deal," he said, "but yet my -views are so strong upon the subject, that I think I may venture to -state them, even if the case against Mr. Hastings should be carried a -step or two farther--which might be better, in order to insure his not -being troubled on an after occasion. I shall strongly advise that a -_nolle prosequi_ be entered, and I think I may add that my advice will -be taken." - -"You think I have asked much already, Mr. Vernon," said Marlow, "but I -am now going to ask more. Will you allow me to have this letter? I -give you my word of honor that it shall only be used for the purposes -of justice. You have known me from my boyhood, my dear sir; you can -trust me." - -"Perfectly, my young friend," replied Vernon, "but you must not take -the letter to-day. In two days the action of the government will be -determined, and if it be such as I anticipate you shall have the -paper, and I trust it will lead to some discovery of the motives and -circumstances of this strange transaction. Most mysterious it -certainly is; for one can hardly suppose any one but a fiend thus -seeking to bring a father's life into peril." - -"A fiend!" exclaimed Marlow, with a scoff, "much more like an angel, -my dear sir." - -"You seem to think so," said Vernon, smiling, "and I trust, though -love is blind, he may have left you clear-sighted in this instance." - -"I think he has," answered Marlow, "and as this young lady's fate is -soon to be united to mine, it is very necessary I should see clearly. -I entertain no doubt, indeed, and I say boldly, that Emily never wrote -this letter. It will give me, however, a clue which perhaps may lead -me to the end of the labyrinth, though as yet I hardly see my way. But -a strong resolution often does much. - -"Might it not be better for you," asked Vernon, "to express your -doubts in regard to this letter to Mr. Hastings himself? He was -terribly affected, as well he might be, when he saw this document, and -believed it to be his own child's writing." - -Marlow mused for some time ere he replied. "I think not," he answered -at length; "he is a man of peculiar disposition; stern, somewhat -gloomy, but honorable, upright, and candid. Now what I am going to say -may make me appear as stern as himself, but if he is suffering from -doubts of that dear girl, knowing her as well as he does, he is -suffering from his own fault, and deserves it. However, my object is -not to punish him, but thoroughly, completely, and for ever to open -his eyes, and to show him so strongly that he has done his child -injustice, as to prevent his ever doing the like again. This can only -be done by bringing all the proofs upon him at once, and my task is -now to gather them together. To my mere opinion regarding the -handwriting, he would not give the slightest heed, but he will not -shut his eyes to proofs. May I calculate upon having the letter in two -days?" - -"I think you may," replied Vernon. - -"Then when will Mr. Hastings be set free?" asked Marlow; "I should -wish to have some start of him into the country." - -"That will depend upon various circumstances," replied the Secretary; -"I think we shall take some steps towards the trial before we enter -the _nolle prosequi_. It is necessary to check in some way the -expression of such very dangerous opinions as he entertains." - -Marlow made no reply but by a smile, and they soon after parted. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - - -Mrs. Hazleton was very consoling. She was with Mrs. Hastings two or -three times in the week, and poor Mrs. Hastings required a -considerable degree of consolation; for the arrest of her husband, -coming so close upon the bitter mortification of loss, and abatement -of dignity, and at the end of a long period of weak health, had made -her seriously ill. She now kept her bed the whole day long, and lay, -making herself worse by that sort of fretful anxiety which was -constitutional with her as well as with many other people. Mrs. -Hazleton's visits were a great comfort to her, and yet, strange to -say, Emily almost always found her more irritable after that lady had -left her. - -Poor Emily seemed to shine under the cloud of misfortune. Her -character came out and acted nobly in the midst of disasters. She was -her mother's nurse and constant attendant; she kept her father -informed of every thing that passed--not an opportunity was missed of -sending him a letter; and although she would have made any sacrifice -to be with him in prison, to comfort and support him in the peril and -sorrow of his situation, she was well satisfied that he had not taken -her, when she found the state into which her mother had fallen. - -Often, after Mrs. Hazleton had sat for an hour or two with her sick -friend, she would come down and walk upon the terrace for a while with -Emily, and comfort her much in the same way that she did Mrs. -Hastings. She would tell her not to despond about her mother: that -though she was certainly very ill, and in a dangerous state, yet -people had recovered who had been quite as ill as she was. Then she -would talk about lungs, and nerves, and humors, and all kinds of -painful and mortal diseases, as if she had studied medicine all her -life; and she did it, too, with a quiet, dignified gravity which made -it more impressive and alarming. Then again, she would turn to the -situation of Mr. Hastings, and wonder what they would do with him. She -would also bring every bit of news that she could collect, regarding -the case of Sir John Fenwick, especially when the intelligence was -painful and disastrous; but she hinted that, perhaps, after all, they -might not be able to prove any thing against Mr. Hastings, and that -even if they did--although the Government were inclined to be -severe--they might, perhaps, commute his sentence to transportation -for the colonies, or imprisonment in the Tower for five or six years. - -It is thus our friends often console us; some of them, from a dark and -gloomy turn of mind, and some of them from the satisfaction many -people feel in meddling with the miseries of others. But it was -neither natural despondency of character, nor any general love of -sorrowful scenes or thoughts, that moved Mrs. Hazleton in the present -instance. She had a peculiar and especial pleasure in the wretchedness -of the Hastings family, and particularly in that of Emily. The -charming lady fancied that if Marlow were free from his engagement -with Emily the next day, and a suitor for her own hand, she would -never think of marrying him. I am not quite sure of that fact, but -that is no business of ours, dear reader, and one thing is certain, -that she would have very willingly sacrificed one half of her whole -fortune, nay more, to have placed an everlasting barrier between Emily -and Marlow. - -She was thus walking with her dear Emily, as she called her, one day -on that terrace at the back of the house where the memorable -conversation had taken place between Mr. Hastings and Sir John -Fenwick, and was treating Emily to a minute and particular account of -the death of the latter, when Marlow suddenly arrived from London, and -entered the house by the large glass door in front. He found a servant -in the hall who informed him that Mrs. Hastings was still in bed, and -that Emily was walking on the terrace with Mrs. Hazleton. Marlow -paused, and considered for a moment. "Any thing not dishonorable," he -said to himself, "is justifiable to clear up such a mystery;" and -passing quietly through the house into the dining-room, which had one -window opening as a door upon the terrace, he saw his fair Emily and -her companion pass along towards the other end of the walk without -being himself perceived. He then approached the window, and -calculating the distances nicely, so as to be sure that Mrs. Hazelton -was fully as far distant from himself as she could have been from Sir -John Fenwick and Mr. Hastings on the evening when they walked there -together, he pronounced her name in an ordinary tone, somewhat lower -than that which Mr. Hastings usually employed. - -Mrs. Hazleton instantly started, and looked round towards the spot -where Marlow was now emerging from the room. - -The lady could not miss an occasion, and the moment she saw him she -exclaimed, "Dear me! there is Mr. Marlow; I am afraid he brings bad -tidings, Emily." - -Emily paused not to consider, but with her own wild grace ran forward -and cast herself into his arms. - -Fortunately Mrs. Hazleton had no dagger with her. Her face was -benevolent and smiling when she joined them; for the joy there was -upon Emily's countenance forbade any affectation of apprehension. It -said as plainly as possible, "All is well;" but she added the words -too, stretching forth her hand to her supposed friend, and saying, -"Dear Mrs. Hazleton, Charles brings me word that my father is -safe--that the Government have declared they will not prosecute." - -"I congratulate you with my whole heart, Emily," replied the lady; -"and I do sincerely hope that ministers may keep their word better in -this instance than they have done in some others." - -"There is not the slightest doubt of it, my dear madam," said Marlow; -"for I have the official announcement under the hand of the Secretary -of State." - -"I must fly and tell my mother," said Emily, and without waiting for a -reply she darted away. - -Mrs. Hazleton took a turn or two up and down the terrace with Marlow, -considering whether it was at all possible for her to be of any -further comfort to her friends at the Court. As she could not stay all -night, however, so as to prevent Emily and Marlow from having any -happy private conversation together, and as she judged that, in their -present joy, they would a good deal forget conventional restraints, -and give way to their lover-like feelings even in her presence, which -would be exceedingly disagreeable to her, she soon re-entered the -house, and ordered her carriage. It must be acknowledged that both -Emily and Marlow were well satisfied to see her depart, and it is not -to be wondered at if they gave themselves up for half an hour to the -pleasure of meeting again. - -At the end of that time, however, Marlow drew forth a letter from his -pocket, carefully folded, so that a line or two only was apparent, and -placing it before Emily, inquired if she knew the hand. - -"It is mine," said Emily, at first; but the moment after she exclaimed -"No!--it is not; it is Mrs. Hazleton's. I know it by the peculiar way -she forms the _g_ and the _y_.--Stay, let me see, Marlow. She has not -done so always; but that _g_, and that _y_, I am quite certain of. Why -do you ask, Marlow?" - -"For reasons of the utmost importance, dear Emily," he answered, "have -you any letters or notes of Mrs. Hazleton's?" - -"Yes, there is one which came yesterday," replied Emily; "it is lying -on my table upstairs." - -"Bring it--bring it, dearest girl," he said; "I wish very much to see -it." - -When he had got, he examined it with a well-pleased smile, and then -said, with a laugh, "I must impound this, my love. I am now on the -right track, and will not leave it till I have arrived at perfect -certainty." - -"You are very strange and mysterious to-day, Marlow," said the -beautiful girl, "what does all this mean?" - -"It means, my love," replied Marlow, "that I have very dark doubts and -suspicions of Mrs. Hazleton,--and all I have seen and heard to-day -confirms me. Now sit down here by me, dear Emily, and tell me if, to -your knowledge, you have ever given to Mrs. Hazleton cause of -offence." - -"Never!" answered Emily, firmly and at once. "Never in my life." - -Marlow mused, and then, with his arms round her waist, he continued, -"Bethink yourself, my love. Within the course of the last two or three -years, have you ever seen reason to believe that Mrs. Hazleton's -affection for you is not so great as it appears?--Has it ever -wavered?--Has it ever become doubtful to you from any stray word or -accidental circumstance?" - -Emily was silent for a moment, and then replied, thoughtfully, -"Perhaps I did think so, once or twice, when I was staying at her -house, last year." - -"Well, then, now, dear Emily," said Marlow, "tell me every thing down -to the most minute circumstance that occurred there." - -Emily hesitated. "Perhaps I ought not," she said; "Mrs. Hazleton -showed me, very strongly, that I ought not, except under an absolute -necessity." - -"That necessity is now, my love," replied Marlow; "love cannot exist -without confidence, Emily; and I tell you, upon my honor and my faith, -that your happiness, my happiness, and even your father's safety, -depends in a great degree upon your telling me all. Do you believe me, -Emily?" - -"Fully," she answered; "and I will tell you all." - -Thus seated together, she poured forth the whole tale to her lover's -ears, even to the circumstances which had occurred in her own room, -when Mrs. Hazleton had entered it, walking in her sleep. The whole -conduct of John Ayliffe, now calling himself Sir John Hastings, was -also displayed; and the dark and treacherous schemes which had been -going on, began gradually to evolve themselves to Marlow's mind. -Obscure and indistinct they still were; but the gloomy shadow was -apparent, and he could trace the outline though he could not fill up -the details. - -"Base, treacherous woman!" he murmured to himself, and then, pressing -Emily more closely to his heart, he thanked her again and again for -her frankness. "I will never misuse it, my Emily," he said; "and no -one shall ever know what you have told me except your father: to him -it must be absolutely revealed." - -"I would have told him myself," said Emily, "if he had ever asked me -any questions on the subject; but as he did not, and seemed very -gloomy just then, I thought it better to follow Mrs. Hazleton's -advice." - -"The worst and the basest she could have given you," said Marlow; "I -have had doubts of her for a long time, Emily, but I have no doubts -now; and, moreover, I firmly believe that the whole case of this John -Ayliffe--his claim upon your father's estate and title--is all false -and factitious together, supported by fraud, forgery, and crime. Have -you preserved this young man's letter, or have you destroyed it, -Emily?" - -"I kept it," she replied, "thinking that, some time or another, I -might have to show it to my father." - -"Then one more mark of confidence, my love," said Marlow; "let me have -that letter. I do not wish to read it; therefore you had better fold -it up and seal it; but it may be necessary as a link in the chain of -evidence which I wish to bring forward for your father's -satisfaction." - -"Read it, if you will, Marlow," she answered; "I have told you the -contents, but it may be as well that you should see the words: I will -bring it to you in a moment." - -They read the letter over together, and when Marlow had concluded, he -laid his hand upon it, saying, "This is Mrs. Hazleton's composition." - -"I'm almost inclined to fancy so, myself," answered Emily. - -"He is incapable of writing this," replied her lover; "I have seen his -letters on matters of business, and he cannot write a plain sentence -in English to an end without making some gross mistake. This is Mrs. -Hazleton's doing, and there is some dark design underneath it. Would -to God that visit had never taken place!" - -"There has been little happiness in the house since," said Emily, -"except what you and I have known together, Marlow; and that has been -sadly checkered by many a painful circumstance." - -"The clouds are breaking, dear one," replied Marlow, rising; "but I -will not pause one moment in my course till all this is made -clear--no, not even for the delight of sitting here by you, my love. I -will go home at once, Emily; mount my horse, and ride over to Hartwell -before it be dark." - -"What is your object there?" asked Emily. - -"To unravel one part of this mystery," replied her lover. "I will -ascertain, by some means, from whom, or in what way, this young man -obtained sufficient money to commence and carry on a very expensive -suit at law. That he had it not himself, I am certain. That his -chances were not sufficiently good, when first he commenced, to induce -any lawyer to take the risk, I am equally certain. He must have had it -from some one, and my suspicions point to Mrs. Hazleton. Her bankers -are mine, and I will find means to know. So, now, farewell, my love; I -will see you again early to-morrow." - -He lingered yet for a moment or two, and then left her. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - - -Marlow was soon on horseback, and riding on to the country town. But -he had lingered longer with Emily than he imagined, and the day -declined visibly as he rode along. - -"The business hours are over," he thought; "bankers and lawyers will -have abandoned the money-getting and mischief-making toils of the day; -and I must stay at the inn till to-morrow." - -He had been riding fast; but he now drew in his rein, and suffered his -horse to walk. The sun was setting gloriously, and the rich, rosy -light, diffused through the air, gave every thing an aspect of warmth, -and richness, and cheerfulness. But Marlow's heart was any thing but -gay. Whether it was that the scenes which he had passed through in -London, his visits to a prison, his dealings with hard official men, -the toiling, moiling crowds that had surrounded him; the wearisome, -eternal, yet ever-changing struggle of life displayed in the streets -and houses of a capital, the infinite varieties of selfishness, and -folly, and vice, and crime, had depressed his spirits, or that his -health had somewhat suffered in consequence of anxious waiting for -events in the foul air of the metropolis, I cannot tell. But certain, -he was sadder than was usual with him. His was a spirit strong and -active, naturally disposed to bright views and happy hopes, too firm -to be easily depressed, too elastic to be long kept down. But yet, as -he rode along, there was a sort of feeling of apprehension upon his -mind that oppressed him mightily. He revolved all that had lately -passed. He compared the state of Mr. Hastings' family, as it actually -was, with what it had been when he first knew it, and there seemed to -be a strange mystery in the change. It had then been all happiness and -prosperity with that household; a calm, grave, thoughtful, but happy -father and husband; a bright, amiable, affectionate mother and wife; a -daughter, to his mind the image of every thing that was sweet, and -gentle, and tender--of every thing that was gay, and sparkling, and -cheerful; full of light and life, and fancy, and hope. Now, there was -a father in prison, deprived of his greatest share of worldly -prosperity, cast down from his station in society, gloomy, desponding, -suspicious, and, as it seemed to him, hardly sane: a mother, -irritable, capricious, peevish, yielding to calamity, and lying on a -bed of sickness, while the bright angel of his love remained to nurse, -and tend, and soothe the one parent, with a heart torn and bleeding -for the distresses of the other. "What have they done to merit all -this?" he asked himself. "What fault, what crime have they committed -to draw down such sorrows on their heads? None--none whatever. Their -lives had been spent in kindly acts and good deeds; they had followed -the precepts of the religion they professed; their lives had been -spent in doing service to their fellow-creatures, and making all happy -around them." - -Then again, on the other hand, he saw the coarse, and the low, and the -base, and the licentious prosperous and successful, rising on the -ruins of the pure and the true. Wily schemes and villanous intrigues -obtaining every advantage, and honesty of purpose and rectitude of -action frustrated and cast down. - -Marlow was no unbeliever--he was not even inclined to skepticism--but -his mind labored, not without humility and reverence, to see how it -could reconcile such facts with the goodness and providence of God. - -"He makes the sun shine upon the just and the unjust, we are told," -said Marlow to himself; "but here the sun seems to shine upon the -unjust alone, and clouds and tempests hang about the just. It is very -strange, and even discouraging; and yet, all that we see of these -strange, unaccountable dispensations may teach us lessons for -hereafter--may give us the grandest confirmation of the grandest -truth. There must be another world, in which these things will be made -equal--a world where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary -are at rest. We only see in part, and the part we do not see must be -the part which will reconcile all the seeming contradictions between -the justice and goodness of God and the course of this mortal life." - -This train pursued him till he reached the town, and put up his horse -at the inn. By that time it was quite dark, and he had tasted nothing -since early in the morning. He therefore ordered supper, and the -landlord, by whom he was now well known--a good, old, honest, country -landlord of the olden time--brought in the meal himself, and waited on -his guest at table. It was so much the custom of gentlemen, in those -days, to order wine whenever they stopped at an inn--it was looked -upon so much as a matter of course that this should be done for the -good of the house--that the landlord, without any direct commands to -that effect, brought in a bottle of his very best old sherry, always a -favorite wine with the English people, though now hardly to be got, -and placed it by the side of his guest. Marlow was by habit no drinker -of much wine. He avoided, as much as in him lay, the deep potations -then almost universal in England; but, not without an object, he that -night gave in to a custom which was very common in England then, and -for many years afterwards, and requested the landlord, after the meal -was over, to sit down, and help him with his bottle. - -"You'll need another bottle, if I once begin, Master Marlow," said the -jolly landlord, who was a wag in his way. - -Marlow nodded his head significantly, as if he were prepared for the -infliction, replying quietly, "Under the influence of your good chat, -Mr. Cherrydew, I can bear it, I think." - -"Well, that's hearty," said the landlord, drawing a chair sideways to -the table; for his vast rotundity prevented him from approaching it -full front. "Here's to your very good health, sir, and may you never -drink worse wine, sit in a colder room, or have a sadder companion." - -Now I have said that Marlow did not invite the landlord to join him, -without an object. That object was to obtain information, and it had -struck him even while the trout, which formed the first dish at his -supper, was being placed on the table, that he might be able, if -willing, to afford it. - -Landlords in England at that time--I mean, of course, in country -towns--were very different in many respects, and of a different class -from what they are at present. In the first place, they were not fine -gentlemen: in the next place, they were not discharged valets de -chambre, or butlers, who, having cheated their masters handsomely, and -perhaps laid them under contribution in many ways, retire to enjoy the -fat things at their ease in their native town. Then, again, they were -on terms of familiar intercourse with two or three classes, completely -separate and distinct from each other--a sort of connecting link -between them. At their door the justice of the peace, the knight of -the shire, the great man of the neighborhood, dismounted from his -horse, and had his chat with mine host. There came the village lawyer -when he had gained a cause, or won a large fee, or had been paid a -long bill, to indulge in his pint of sherry, and gossipped, as he -drank it, of all the affairs of his clients. There sneaked in the -Doctor to get his glass of eau de vie, or plague water, or aqua -mirabilis, or strong spirits, in short of any other denomination, and -tell little dirty anecdotes of his cases, and his patients. There the -alderman, the wealthy shop-keeper, and the small proprietor, or the -large farmer, came to take his cheerful cup on Saturdays or on -market-day. But, besides these, the inn was the resort, though -approached by another door, of a lower and a poorer class, with whom -the landlord was still upon as good terms as with the others. The -wagoner, the carter, the lawyer's and the banker's clerk, the shopman, -the porter even, all came there; and it mattered not to Mr. Cherrydew -or his confraternity, whether it was a bowl of punch, a draught of -ale, a glass of spirits, or a bottle of old wine that his guests -demanded; he was civil, and familiar, and chatty with them all. - -Thus under the rosy and radiant face of Mr. Cherrydew, and in that -good, round, fat head, was probably accumulated a greater mass of -information, regarding the neighborhood in which he lived, and all -that went on therein, than in any other head, in the whole town, and -the only difficulty was to extract that part of the store which was -wanted. - -Marlow knew that it would not do to approach the principal subject of -inquiry rashly; for Mr. Cherrydew, like most of his craft, was -somewhat cautious, and would have shut himself up in silent reserve, -or enveloped himself in intangible ambiguities, if he had known -that his guest had any distinct and important object in his -questions--having a notion that a landlord should be perfectly -cosmopolitan in all his feelings and his actions, and should never -commit himself in such a manner as to offend any one who was, had -been, or might be his guest. He was fond of gossip, it is true, -loved a jest, and was not at all blind to the ridiculous in the -actions of his neighbors; but habitual caution was in continual -struggle with his merry, tattling disposition, and he was generally -considered a very safe man. - -Marlow, therefore, began at a great distance, saying, "I have just -come down from London, Mr. Cherrydew, and rode over, thinking that I -should arrive in time to catch my lawyer in his office." - -"That is all over now, sir, for the night," replied the landlord. "In -this, two-legged foxes differ from others: they go to their holes at -sunset, just when other foxes go out to walk. They divide the world -between them, Master Marlow; the one preys by day, the other by -night.--Well, I should like to see Lunnun. It must be a grand place, -sir, though somewhat of a bad one. Why, what a number of executions I -have read of there lately, and then, this Sir John Fenwick's business. -Why, he changed horses here, going to dine with Sir Philip, as I shall -call him to the end of my days. Ah, poor gentleman, he has been in -great trouble! But I suppose, from what I hear, he'll get clear now?" - -"Beyond all doubt," said Marlow; "the Government have no case against -him. But you say very true, Mr. Cherrydew, there has been a sad number -of executions in London--seven and twenty people hanged, at different -times, while I was there." - -"And the town no better," said Mr. Cherrydew. - -"By the way," said Marlow, "were you not one of the jury at the trial -of that fellow, Tom Cutter?--Fill your glass, Mr. Cherrydew." - -"Thank you, sir.--Yes I was, to be sure," answered the landlord; "and -I'll tell you the funniest thing in the world that happened the second -day. Lord bless you, sir, I was foreman,--and on the first day the -judge suffered the case to go on till his dinner was quite cold, and -we were all half starved; but he saw that he could not hang him that -night, at all events--here's to your health, sir!--so he adjourned the -Court, and called for a constable, and ordered all of us, poor devils, -to be locked up tight in Jones's public-house till the next day; for -the jury room is so small, that there is not standing-room for more -than three such as me. Well, the other men did not much like it, -though I did not care,--for I had my boots full of ham, and a -brandy-bottle in my breeches-pocket. One of them asked the judge, for -all his great black eyebrows, if he could'nt go on that night; but his -lordship answered, with a snort like a cart horse, and told us to hold -our tongues, and mind our own business, and only to take care and keep -ourselves together. Well, sir, we had to walk up the hill, you know, -and there was the constable following us with his staff in his hand; -so I had compassion on my poor fellow-sufferers, and I whispered, -first to one, then to another, that this sort of jog would never do, -but I would manage to tell them how to have a good night's rest. You -see, says I, here's but one constable to thirteen people, so when you -get to the cross-roads, let every man take up his legs and run, each -his own way. He can but catch one, and the slowest runner will have -the chance. Now, I was the fattest of them all, you see, so that every -one of them thought that I should be the man. Well, sir, they followed -my advice; but it's a different thing to give advice, and take it. No -sooner did we get to the cross-roads, than they scattered like a heap -of dust in the wind, some down the roads and lanes, some over the -styles and gates, some through the hedges. Little Sninkum, the tailor, -stuck in the hedge by the way, and was the man caught, for he was -afraid of his broadcloth; but I stood stock still, with a look of -marvellous astonishment, crying out, 'For God's sake catch them, -constable, or what will my lord say to you and me?' Off the poor devil -set in a moment, one man to catch twelve, all over the face of the -country. He thought he was sure enough of me; but what did I do I why, -as soon as he was gone, I waddled home to my own house, and got my -wife to put me to bed up-stairs, and pass me for my grandfather. Well, -sir, that's not the best of it yet. We were all in Court next day at -the right hour, and snug in the jury-box before the judge came in; but -I have a notion he had heard something of the matter. He looked mighty -hard at Sninkum, whose face was all scratched to pieces, and opening -his mouth with a pop, like the drawing of a cork, he said, 'Why, man, -you look as if you and your brethren had been fighting!' and then he -looked as hard at me, and roared, 'I hope, gentlemen, you have kept -yourselves together?' Thereupon, I laid my two hands upon my stomach, -sir,--it weighs a hundred and a half, if it were cut off to-morrow, as -I know to my cost, who carry it--and I answered quite, respectful, 'I -can't answer for the other gentlemen, my lord, but I'll swear I've -kept myself together.' You should have heard how the Court rang with -the people laughing, while I remained as grave as a judge, and much -graver than the one who was there; for I thought he would have burst -before he was done, and a fine mess that would have made." - -Serious as his thoughts were, Marlow could not refrain from smiling; -but he did not forget his object, and remarked, "There were efforts -made to save that scoundrel, and the present Sir John Hastings -certainly did his best for his friend." - -"Call him John Ayliffe, sir, call him John Ayliffe," said the host. -"Here's to you, sir,--he's never called any thing else here." - -"I wonder," said Marlow, musingly, "if there was any relationship -between this Tom Cutter and John Ayliffe's mother?" - -"Not a pin's point of it, sir," replied the landlord. "They were just -two bad fellows together; that was the connection between them, and -nothing else." - -"Well, John stood by his friend, at all events," said Marlow; "though -where he got the money to pay the lawyers in that case, or in his suit -against Sir Philip, is a marvel to me." - -Mine host winked his eye knowingly, and gave a short laugh. - -That did not entirely suit Marlow's purpose, and he added in a musing -tone, "I know that he wanted to borrow ten pounds two or three months -before, but was refused, because he had not repaid what he had -borrowed of the same party, previously." - -"Ay, ay, sir," said the landlord; "there are secrets in all things. He -got money, and money enough, somehow, just about that time. He has not -repaid it yet, either, but he has given a mortgage, I hear, for the -amount; and if he don't mortgage his own carcase for it too, I am very -much mistaken, before he has done." - -"Mortgage his own carcase! I do not understand what you mean," replied -Marlow. "I am sure I would not give a shilling for that piece of -earth." - -"A pretty widow lady, not a hundred miles off, may think differently," -replied the landlord, grinning again, and filling his glass once more. - -"Ah, ha," said Marlow, trying to laugh likewise; "so you think she -advanced the money, do you?" - -"I am quite sure of it, sir," said Mr. Cherrydew, nodding his head -profoundly. "I did not witness the mortgage, but I know one who did." - -"What! Shanks' clerk, I suppose," said Marlow. - -"No, sir, no," replied the landlord; "Shanks did not draw the -mortgage, either; for he was lawyer to both parties, and Mrs. Hazleton -didn't like that;--O, she's cute enough!" - -"I think you must be mistaken," said Marlow, in a decided tone; "for -Mrs. Hazleton assured me, when there was a question between herself -and me, that she was not nearly as rich as she was supposed, and that -if the law should award me back rents, it would ruin her." - -"Gammon, sir!" replied the landlord, who had now imbibed a sufficient -quantity of wine, in addition to sundry potations during the day. "I -should not have thought you a man to be so easily hooked, Mr. Marlow; -but if you will ask the clerk of Doubledoo and Kay, who was down here, -staying three or four days about business, you'll find that she -advanced every penny, and got a mortgage for upwards of five thousand -pounds;--but I think we had better have that other bottle, sir?" - -"By all means," said Marlow, and Mr. Cherrydew rolled away to fetch -it. - -"By the way, what was that clerk's name you mentioned?" - -"Sims, sir, Sims," said the landlord, drawing the cork; and then -setting down the bottle on the table, he added, with a look of great -contempt, "he's the leetlest little man you ever saw, sir, not so tall -as my girl Dolly, and with no more stomach than a currycomb, a sort of -cross breed between a monkey and a penknife. He's as full of fun as -the one, too, and as sharp as the other. He will hold a prodigious -quantity of punch, though, small as he is. I could not fancy where he -put it all, it must have gone into his shoes." - -"Come, come, Mr. Cherrydew," said Marlow, laughing, "do not speak -disrespectfully of thin people--I am not very fat myself." - -"Lord bless you, sir, you are quite a fine, personable man; and in -time, with a few butts, you would be as fine a man as I am." - -Marlow devoutly hoped not, but he begged Mr. Cherrydew to sit down -again, and do his best to help him through the wine he had brought; -and out of that bottle came a great many things which Marlow wanted -much more than the good sherry which it contained. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - - -It was about ten o'clock in the day when Marlow returned to the Court, -as it was called. The butler informed him that Miss Emily was not -down--a very unusual thing with her, as she was exceedingly matutinal -in her habits; but he found, on inquiry, that she had sat up with her -mother during the greater part of the night. Marlow looked at his -watch, then at the gravelled space before the house, where his own -horse was being led up and down by his groom, and a stranger who had -come with him was sitting quietly on horseback, as if waiting for him. -"I fear," said Marlow, after a moment's musing, "I must disturb your -young lady. Will you tell her maid to go up and inform her that I am -here, and wish to speak with her immediately, as I have business which -calls me to London without delay." The man retired, and Marlow entered -what was then called the withdrawing room, walking up and down in -thought. He had not remained many minutes, however, when Emily herself -appeared, with her looks full of surprise and anxiety. "What is the -matter, Marlow?" she said. "Has any new evil happened?" - -"Nay, nay, my love," said Marlow, embracing her tenderly. "You must -not let the few ills that have already befallen you, my Emily, produce -that apprehensiveness which long years of evil and mischance but too -often engender. Brighter days are coming, I trust, my love; so far -from new evils having arisen, I have been very fortunate in my -inquiries, and have got information which must lead to great results. -I must pursue the clue that has been afforded me without a moment's -delay or hesitation; for once the thread be broken I may have -difficulty in uniting it again. But if I judge rightly, my Emily, it -will lead me to the following results. To the complete exposure of a -base conspiracy; to the punishment of the offenders; to the -restoration of your father's property, and of his rank." - -He held her hand in his while he spoke, and gazed into her beautiful -eyes; but Emily did not seem very much overjoyed. "For my own part," -she said, "I care little as to the loss of property or station, -Marlow, and still less do I care to punish offenders; but I think my -father and mother will be very glad of the tidings you give me. May I -tell them what you say?" - -Marlow mused for a moment or two. He was anxious to give any comfort -to Mrs. Hastings, but yet he doubted her discretion, and he replied, -"Not the whole, dear Emily, except in case of urgent need. You may -tell your mother that I think I have obtained information which will -lead to the restoration of your father's property, and you may assure -her that no effort shall be wanting on my part to attain that object. -Say that I am, even now, setting out for London for the purpose, and -that I am full of good hopes. I believe I can prove," he added, after -a moment's consideration, and in reality more to lead Mrs. Hastings -away from the right track than from any other consideration, although -the point he was about to state was a fact, "I believe I can prove -that the missing leaf of the marriage register, which was supposed to -have been torn out by your grandfather's orders, was there not two -years ago, and that I can show by whose hands it was torn out at a -much later date. Assure her, however, that I will do every thing in my -power, and bid her be of good hope." - -"I do not understand the matter," answered Emily, "and never heard of -this register, but I dare say my mother has, and will comprehend your -meaning better than I do. I know the very hope will give her great -pleasure." - -"Remember one thing, however, dear Emily," replied Marlow, "on no -account mention to her my suspicions of Mrs. Hazleton, nor show any -suspicions of that good lady yourself. It is absolutely necessary that -she should be kept in ignorance of our doubts, till those doubts, -become certainties. However, in case of any painful and unpleasant -circumstances occurring while I am absent, I must leave these papers -with you. They consist of the note sent you by Mrs. Hazleton which you -showed me, a paper which I feel confident is in her handwriting, but -which imitates your hand very exactly, and which has led to wrong -impressions, and the letter of young John Ayliffe--or at least that -which he wrote under Mrs. Hazleton's direction. I have added a few -words of my own, on a separate sheet of paper, stating the impression -which I have in regard to all these matters, and which I will justify -whenever it may be needful." - -"But what am I to do with them?" asked Emily, simply. - -"Keep them safely, and ever at hand, dear girl," replied Marlow, in a -grave tone. "You will find your father on his return a good deal -altered--moody and dissatisfied. It will be as well for you to take no -notice of such demeanor, unless he expresses plainly some cause of -discontent. If he do so--if he should venture upon any occasion to -reproach you, my Emily--" - -"For what?" exclaimed Emily, in utter surprise. - -"It would be too long and too painful to explain all just now, dear -one," answered her lover. "But such a thing may happen, my Emily. -Deceived, and in error, he may perhaps reproach you for things you -never dreamt of. He may also judge wrongly of your conduct in not -having told him of this young scoundrel's proposal to you. In either -case put that packet of papers in his hands, and tell him frankly and -candidly every thing." - -"He is sometimes so reserved and grave," said Emily, "that I never -like to speak to him on any subject to which he does not lead the way. -I sometimes think he does not understand me, Marlow, and dread to open -my whole heart to him, as I would fain do, lest he should mistake me -still more." - -"Let no dread stop you in this instance, my own dear girl," Marlow -answered. "That there have been dark plots against you, Emily, I am -certain. The only way to meet and frustrate them is to place full and -entire confidence in your father. I do not ask you to speak to him on -the subject unless he speaks to you till I have obtained the proofs -which will make all as clear as daylight. Then, every thing must be -told, and Sir Philip will find that had he been more frank himself he -would have met with no want of candor in his daughter. Now, one more -kiss, dear love, and then to my horse's back." - -I will not pursue Marlow's journey across the fair face of merry -England, nor tell the few adventures that befell him on the way, nor -the eager considerations that pressed, troop after troop, upon his -mind, neither will I dwell long upon his proceedings in London, which -occupied but one brief day. He went to the house of his banker, sought -out the little clerk of Messrs. Doubledoo and Kay, and contrived from -both to obtain proof positive that Mrs. Hazleton had supplied a large -sum of money to young John Ayliffe to carry on his suit against Sir -Philip Hastings. He also obtained a passport for France, and one or -two letters for influential persons in Paris, and returning to the inn -where he had left the man who had accompanied him from the country, -set out for Calais, without pausing even to take rest himself. Another -man, a clerk from his own lawyer's house, accompanied him, and though -the passage was somewhat long and stormy, he reached Calais in safety. - -Journeys to Paris were not then such easy things as now. Three days -passed ere Marlow reached the French capital, and then both his -companions were inclined to grumble not a little at the rapidity with -which he travelled, and the small portion of rest he allowed them or -himself. In the capital, however, they paused for two days, and, -furnished with an interpreter and guide, amused themselves mightily, -while Marlow passed his time in government offices, and principally -with the lieutenant of police, or one of his commissaries. - -At length the young gentleman notified his two companions that they -must prepare to accompany him at nine o'clock in the morning to St. -Germain en Laye, where he intended to reside for some days. A carriage -was at the door to the moment, and they found in it a very decent and -respectable gentleman in black, with a jet-hilted sword by his side, -and a certain portion of not very uncorrupt English. The whole party -jogged on pleasantly up the steep ascent, and round the fine old -palace, to a small inn which was indicated to the driver by the -gentleman in black, for whom that driver seemed to entertain a -profound reverence. When comfortably fixed in the inn, Marlow left his -two English companions, and proceeded, as it was the hour of -promenade, to take a walk upon the terrace with his friend in black. -They passed a great number of groups, and a great number of single -figures, and Marlow might have remarked, if he had been so disposed, -that several of the persons whom they met seemed to eye his companion -with a suspicious and somewhat anxious glance. All Marlow's powers of -observation, however, were directed in a different way. He examined -every face that he saw, every group that he came near; but at length, -as they passed a somewhat gayly dressed woman of the middle age, who -was walking alone, the young Englishman touched the arm of the man in -black, saying, "According to the description I have had of her, that -must be very like the person." - -"We will follow her, and see," said the man in black. - -Without appearing to notice her particularly, they kept near the lady -who had attracted their attention, as long as she continued to walk -upon the terrace, and then followed her when she left it, through -several streets which led away in the direction of the forest. At -length she stopped at a small house, opened the door, and went in. - -The man in black took out a little book from his pocket, closely -written with long lists of names. - -"Monsieur et Madame Jervis," he said, after having turned over several -pages. "Here since three years ago." - -"That cannot be she, then," answered Marlow. - -"Stay, stay," said his companion, "that is _au premier_. On the second -floor lodges Monsieur Drummond. Old man of sixty-eight. He has been -here two years; and above Madame Dupont, an old French lady whom I -know quite well. You must be mistaken, Monsieur, but we will go into -this _charcutier's_ just opposite, and inquire whether that is Madame -Jervis who went in." - -It proved to be so. The pork butcher had seen her as she passed the -window, and Marlow's search had to begin again. When he and his -companion returned to their inn, however, the man whom he had brought -up from the country met him eagerly, saying, "I have seen her, sir! I -have seen her! She passed by here not ten minutes ago, dressed in -weeds like a widow, and walking very fast. I would swear to her." - -"Oh, he," said the man in black, "we will soon find her now," and -calling to the landlord, who was as profoundly deferential towards him -as the coachman had been, he said in the sweetest possible tone, "Will -you have the goodness to let Monsieur Martin know that the _bon homme -grivois_ wishes to speak with him for a moment?" - -It was wonderful with what rapidity Monsieur St. Martin, a tall, -dashing looking personage, with an infinite wig, obeyed the summons of -the _bon homme grivois_. - -"Ah, _bon jour_, St. Martin," said the man in black. - -"_Bon jour, Monsieur_," replied the other with a profound obeisance. - -"A lady of forty--has been handsome, fresh color, dark eyes, middle -height, hair brown, hardly gray," said the man in black. "Dressed like -an English widow, somewhat common air and manner, has come here within -a year. Where is she to be found, St. Martin?" - -The other, who had remained standing, took out his little book, and -after consulting its pages diligently, gave a street and a number. - -"What's her name?" asked the man in black. - -"Mistress Brown," replied Monsieur St. Martin. - -"Good," said the man in black, "but we must wait till to-morrow -morning, as it is now growing dark, and there must be no mistake; -first, lest we scare the real bird in endeavoring to catch one we -don't want, and next, lest we give annoyance to any of his Majesty's -guests, which would reduce the king to despair." - -The next morning, at an early hour, the party of four proceeded to the -street which had been indicated, discovered the number, and then -entered a handsome hotel, inhabited by an old French nobleman. The man -in black seemed unknown to either the servants or their master, but a -very few words spoken in the ear of the latter, rendered him most -civil and accommodating. A room in the front of the house, just over -that of the porter, was put at the disposal of the visitors, and the -man who had accompanied Marlow from the country was placed at the -window to watch the opposite dwelling. It was a balmy morning, and the -house was near the outskirts of the town, so that the fresh air of the -country came pleasantly up the street. The windows of the opposite -house were, however, still closed, and it was not till Marlow and his -companions had been there near three quarters of an hour, that a -window on the first floor was opened, and a lady looked out for a -moment, and then drew in her head again. - -"There she is!" cried the man who was watching, "there she is, sir." - -"Are you quite certain?" asked the man in black. - -"Beyond all possible doubt, sir," replied the other. "Lord bless you, -I know her as well as I know my own mother. I saw her almost every day -for ten years." - -"Very well, then," said the man in black, "I wilt go over first alone, -and as soon as I have got in, you, Monsieur Marlow, with these two -gentlemen, follow me thither. She won't escape me when once I'm in, -but the house may have a back way, and therefore we will not scare her -by too many visitors at this early hour." - -He accordingly took his departure, and Marlow and his companions saw -him ring the bell at the opposite house. But the suspicion of those -within fully justified the precautions he had taken. Before he -obtained admission, he was examined very narrowly by a maid-servant -from the window above. It is probable that he was quite conscious of -this scrutiny, but he continued quietly humming an opera air for a -minute or two, and then rang the bell again. The door was then opened. -He entered, and Marlow and his companions ran across, and got in -before the door was shut. The maid gave a little scream at the sudden -ingress of so many men, but the gentleman in black told her to be -silent, to which she replied, "Oh, Monsieur, you have cheated me. You -said you wanted lodgings." - -"Very good, my child," replied the man, "but the lodgings which I want -are those of Madame Brown, and you will be good enough to recollect -that I command all persons, in the king's name, now in this house, to -remain in it, and not to go out on any pretence whatever till they -have my permission. Lock that door at the back, and then bring me the -key." - -The maid, pale and trembling, did as she was commanded, and the French -gentleman then directed the man who had accompanied Marlow to precede -the rest up the stairs, and enter the front room of the first floor. -The others followed close, and as soon as the door of the room was -open, it was evident that the lady of the house had been alarmed by -the noise below; for she stood looking eagerly towards the top of the -stairs, with cheeks very pale indeed. At the same moment that this -sight was presented to them, they heard the man who had gone on -exclaim in English, "Ah, Mistress Ayliffe, how do you do? I am very -glad to see you. Do you know they said you were dead--ay, and swore to -it." - -John Ayliffe's mother sank down in a seat, and hid her face with her -hands. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - - -Marlow could not be hard-hearted with a woman, and he felt for the -terrible state of agitation and alarm, to which John Ayliffe's mother -was reduced. - -"We must be gentle with her," he said in French to the Commissary of -Police, who was with him, and whom we have hitherto called the man in -black. - -"_Oui, monsieur_," replied the other, taking a pinch of snuff, and -perfectly indifferent whether he was gentle or not,--for the -Commissary had the honor, as he termed it, of assisting at the -breaking of several gentlemen on the wheel, to say nothing of sundry -decapitations, hangings, and the question, ordinary and extraordinary, -all of which have a certain tendency, when witnessed often, slightly -to harden the human heart, so that he was not tender. - -Marlow was approaching to speak to the unfortunate woman, when -removing her hands from her eyes, she looked wildly round, exclaiming, -"Oh! have you come to take me, have you come to take me?" - -"That must depend upon circumstances, madam," replied Marlow, in a -quiet tone. "I have obtained sufficient proofs of the conspiracy in -which your son has been engaged with yourself and Mr. Shanks, the -attorney, to justify me in applying to the Government of his most -Christian Majesty for your apprehension and removal to England. But I -am unwilling to deal at all harshly with you, if it can be avoided." - -"Oh! pray don't, pray don't!" she exclaimed vehemently; "my son will -kill me, I do believe, if he knew that you had found me out; for he -has told me, and written to me so often to hide myself carefully, that -he would think it was my fault." - -"It is his own fault in ordering your letters to him to be sent to the -Silver Cross at Hartwell," replied Marlow. "Every body in the house -knew the handwriting, and became aware that you were not dead, as had -been pretended. But your son will soon be in a situation to kill -nobody; for the very fact of your being found here, with the other -circumstances we know, is sufficient to convict him of perjury." - -"Then he'll lose the property and the title, and not be Sir John any -more," said the unhappy woman. - -"Beyond all doubt," replied Marlow. "But to return to the matter -before us; my conduct with regard to yourself must be regulated -entirely by what you yourself do. If you furnish me with full and -complete information in regard to this nefarious business, in which I -am afraid you have been a participator, as well as a victim, I will -consent to your remaining where you are, under the superintendence of -the police, of which this gentleman is a Commissary." - -"O, I have been a victim, indeed," answered Mrs. Ayliffe, weeping. "I -declare I have not had a moment's peace, or a morsel fit to eat since -I have been in this outlandish country, and I can hardly get any body, -not even a servant girl, who understands a word of English, to speak -to." - -Marlow thought that he saw an inclination to evade the point of his -questions, in order to gain time for consideration, and the Commissary -thought so too: though both of them were, I believe, mistaken; for -collaterality, if I may use such a word, was a habit of the poor -woman's mind. - -The Commissary interrupted her somewhat sharply in her catalogue of -the miseries of France, by saying, "I will beg you to give me your -keys, madame, for we must have a visitation of your papers." - -"My keys, my keys!" she said, putting her hands in the large pockets -then worn. "I am sure I do not know what I have done with them, or -where they are." - -"O, we will soon find keys that will open any thing," replied the -Commissary. "There are plenty of hammers in St. Germain." - -"Stay, stay a moment," said Marlow; "I think Mrs. Ayliffe will save us -the trouble of taking any harsh steps." - -"O yes, don't; I will do any thing you please," she said, earnestly. - -"Well then, madame," said Marlow, "will you have the goodness to state -to this gentleman, who will take down your words, and afterwards -authenticate the statement, what is your real name, and your ordinary -place of residence in England?" - -She hesitated, and he added more sternly, "You may answer or not, as -you like, madame; we have proof by the evidence of Mr. Atkinson here, -who has known you so many years, that you are living now in France, -when your son made affidavit that you were dead. That is the principal -point; but at the same time I warn you, that if you do not frankly -state the truth in every particular, I must demand that you be removed -to England." - -"I will indeed," she said, "I will indeed;" and raising her eyes to -the face of the Commissary, of whom she seemed to stand in great -dread, she stated truly her name and place of abode, adding, "I would -not, indeed I would not have taken a false name, or come here at all, -if my son had not told me that it was the only way for him to get the -estate, and promised that I should come back directly he had got it. -But now, he says I must remain here forever, and hide myself;" and she -wept bitterly. - -In the mean while, the Commissary continued to write actively, putting -down all she said. She seemed to perceive that she was committing -herself, but, as is very common in such cases, she only rendered the -difficulties worse, adding, in a low tone, "After all, the estate -ought to have been his by right." - -"If you think so, madame," replied Marlow, "you had better return to -England, and prove it; but I can hardly imagine that your son and his -sharp lawyer would have had recourse to fraud and perjury in order to -keep you concealed, if they judged that he had any right at all." - -"Ay, he might have a right in the eyes of God," replied the unhappy -woman, "not in the eyes of the law. We were as much married before -heaven as any two people could be, though we might not be married -before men." - -"That is to say, you and your husband," said the Commissary in an -insinuating tone. - -"I and Mr. John Hastings, old Sir John's son," she answered; and the -Commissary drawing Marlow for a moment aside, conversed with him in a -whisper. - -What they said she could not hear, and could not have understood had -she heard, for they spoke in French; but she grew alarmed as they went -on, evidently speaking about her, and turning their eyes towards her -from time to time. She thought they meditated at least sending her in -custody to England, and perhaps much worse. Tales of bastiles, and -dungeons, and wringing confessions from unwilling prisoners by all -sorts of tortures, presented themselves to her imagination, and before -they had concluded, she exclaimed in a tone of entreaty, "I will tell -all, indeed I will tell all, if you will not send me any where." - -"The Commissary thinks, madame," said Marlow, "that the first thing we -ought to do is to examine your papers, and then to question you from -the evidence they afford. The keys must, therefore, be found, or the -locks must be broken open." - -"Perhaps they may be in that drawer," said Mrs. Ayliffe, pointing -across to an escrutoire; and there they were accordingly found. No -great search for papers was necessary; for the house was but scantily -furnished, and the escrutoire itself contained a packet of six or -seven letters from John Ayliffe to his mother, with two from Mr. -Shanks, each of them ending with the words "_read and burn_;" an -injunction which she had religiously failed to comply with. These -letters formed a complete series from the time of her quitting England -up to that day. They gave her information of the progress of the suit -against Sir Philip Hastings, and of its successful termination by his -withdrawing from the defence. The first letters held out to her, every -day, the hope of a speedy return to England. The later ones mentioned -long fictitious consultations with lawyers in regard to her return, -and stated that it was found absolutely necessary that she should -remain abroad under an assumed name. The last letter, however, -evidently in answer to one of remonstrance and entreaty from her, was -the most important in Marlow's eyes. It was very peremptory in its -tone, asked if she wanted to ruin and destroy her son, and threatened -all manner of terrible things if she suffered her retreat to be -discovered. As some compensation, however, for her disappointment, -John Ayliffe promised to come and see her speedily, and secure her a -splendid income, which would enable her to keep carriages and horses, -and "live like a princess." He excused his not having done so earlier, -on the ground that his friend Mrs. Hazleton had advanced him a very -large sum of money to carry on the suit, which he was obliged to pay -immediately. The letter ended with these words, "She is as bitter -against all the Hastings' as ever; and nothing will satisfy her till -she has seen the last of them all, especially that saucy girl; but she -is cute after her money, and will be paid. As for my part, I don't -care what she does to Mistress Emily; for I now hate her as much as I -once liked her,--but you will see something there, I think, before -long." - -"In the name of Heaven," exclaimed Marlow, as he read that letter, -"what can have possessed the woman with so much malice towards poor -Emily Hastings?" - -"Why, John used always to think," said Mistress Ayliffe, with a weak -smile coming upon her face in the midst of her distress, "that it was -because Madame Hazleton wanted to marry a man about there, called -Marlow, and Mistress Emily carried him off from her." - -The Commissary laughed, and held out his snuff-box to Marlow, who did -not take the snuff, but fell into a deep fit of thought, while the -Commissary continued his perquisitions. - -Only two more papers of importance were found, and they were of a date -far back. The one fresh, and evidently a copy of some other letter, -the other yellow, and with the folds worn through in several places. -The former was a copy of a letter of young John Hastings to the -unfortunate girl whom he had seduced, soothing her under her distress -of mind, and calling her his "dear little wife." It was with the -greatest difficulty she could be induced to part with the original, it -would seem, and had obtained a copy before she consented to do so. The -latter was the antidote to the former. It was a letter from old Sir -John Hastings to her father, and was to the following effect: - -"Sir: - -"As you have thought fit distinctly to withdraw all vain and -fraudulent pretences of any thing but an illicit connection between -your daughter and my late son, and to express penitence for the -insolent threats you used, I will not withhold due support from my -child's offspring, nor from the unfortunate girl to whom he behaved -ill. I therefore write this to inform you that I will allow her the -sum of two hundred pounds per annum, as long as she demeans herself -with propriety and decorum. I will also leave directions in my will -for securing to her and her son, on their joint lives, a sum of an -equal amount, which may be rendered greater if her behavior for the -next few years is such as I can approve. - -"I am, sir, your obedient servant, - -"JOHN HASTINGS." - -Marlow folded up the letter with a smile, and the Commissary -proceeded, with all due formalities, to mark and register the whole -correspondence as found in the possession of Mrs. Ayliffe. - -When this was done, what may be called the examination of that good -lady was continued, but the sight of those letters in the hands of -Marlow, and the well-satisfied smile with which he read them, had -convinced her that all farther attempt at concealment would be vain. -Terror had with her a great effect in unloosing the tongue, and, as is -very common in such cases, she flew into the extreme of loquacity, -told every thing she knew, or thought, or imagined, and being, as is -common with very weak people, of a prying and inquisitive turn, she -could furnish ample information in regard to all the schemes and -contrivances by which her son had succeeded in convincing even Sir -Philip Hastings himself of his legitimacy. - -Her statements involved Mr. Shanks the lawyer in the scheme of fraud -as a principal, but they compromised deeply Mrs. Hazleton herself as -cognizant of all that was going on, and aiding and abetting with her -personal advice. She detailed the whole particulars of the plan which -had been formed for bringing Emily Hastings to Mrs. Hazleton's house, -and frightening her into a marriage with John Ayliffe; and she dwelt -particularly on the tutoring he had received from that lady, and his -frantic rage when the scheme was frustrated. The transactions between -him and the unhappy man Tom Cutter she knew only in part; but she -admitted that her eon had laughed triumphantly at the thought of how -Sir Philip would be galled when he was made to believe that his -beloved Emily had been to visit her young reprobate son at the cottage -near the park, and that, too, at a time when he had been actually -engaged in poaching. - -All, in fact, came forth with the greatest readiness, and indeed much -more was told than any questions tended to elicit. She seemed indeed -to have now lost all desire for concealment, and to found her hopes -and expectations on the freest discovery. Her only dread, apparently, -being that she might be taken to England, and confronted with her son. -On this point she dwelt much, and Marlow consented that she should -remain in France, under the supervision of the police, for a time at -least, though he would not promise her, notwithstanding all her -entreaties, that she should never be sent for. He endeavored, however, -to obviate the necessity of so doing, by taking every formal step that -could be devised to render the evidence he had obtained available in a -court of law, as documentary testimony. A magistrate was sent for, her -statements were read over to her in his presence by the commissary of -police, and though it cannot be asserted that either the style or the -orthography of the worthy commissary were peculiarly English, yet Mrs. -Ayliffe signed them, and swore to them in good set form, and in the -presence of four witnesses. - -To Marlow, the scene was a very painful one; for he had a natural -repugnance to seeing the weakness and degradation of human nature so -painfully exhibited by any fellow-creature, and he left her with -feelings of pity, but still stronger feelings of contempt. - -All such sensations, however, vanished when he reached the inn again, -and he found himself in possession of evidence which would clear his -beloved Emily of the suspicions which had been instilled into her -father's mind, and which he doubted not in the least would effect the -restoration of Sir Philip Hastings to his former opulence and to his -station in society. - -The mind of man has a sun in its own sky, which pours forth its -sunshine, or is hidden by clouds, irrespective of the atmosphere -around. In fact we always see external objects through stained glass, -and the hues imparted are in our windows, not in the objects -themselves. It is wonderful how different the aspect of every thing -was to the eyes of Marlow as he returned towards Paris, from that -which the scene had presented as he went. All seemed sunshine and -brightness, from the happiness of his own heart. The gloomy images, -which, as I have shown, had haunted him on his way from his own house -to Hartwell--the doubts, if they can be so called--the questionings of -the unsatisfied heart in regard the ways of Providence--the cloudy -dreads which almost all men must have felt as to the real, constant, -minute superintendence of a Supreme Power being but a sweet vision, -the child of hope and veneration, were all dispelled. I do not mean to -say that they were dissipated by reason or by thought, for his was a -strong mind, and reason and thought with him were always on the side -of faith; but those clouds and mists were suddenly scattered by the -success which he had obtained, and the cheering expectation which -might be now well founded upon that success. Is was not enough for him -that he knew, and understood, and appreciated to the full the beauty -and excellence of his Emily's character. He could not be contented -unless every one connected with her understood and appreciated it -also. He cared little what the world thought of himself, but he would -have every one think well of her, and the deepest pang he had perhaps -ever felt in life had been experienced when he first found that Sir -Philip Hastings doubted and suspected his own child. Now, all must be -clear--all must be bright. The base and the fraudulent will be -punished and exposed, the noble and the good honored and justified. It -was his doing; and as he alighted from the carriage, and mounted the -stairs of the hotel in Paris, his step was as triumphant as if he had -won a great victory. - -Fate will water our wine, however--I suppose lest we should become -intoxicated with the delicious draught of joy. Marlow longed and hoped -to fly back to England with the tidings without delay, but certain -formalities had to be gone through, official seals and signatures -affixed to the papers he had obtained, in order to leave no doubt of -their authenticity. Cold men of office could not be brought to -comprehend or sympathize with, his impetuous eagerness, and five whole -days elapsed before he was able to quit the French capital. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - - -John Ayliffe, as we may now once more very righteously call him, was -seated in the great hall of the old house of the Hastings family. Very -different indeed was the appearance of that large chamber now from -that which it had presented when Sir Philip Hastings was in -possession. All the old, solid, gloomy-looking furniture, which -formerly had given it an air of baronial dignity, and which Sir Philip -had guarded as preciously as if every antique chair and knotted table -had been an heir-loom, was now removed, and rich flaunting things of -gaudy colors substituted. Damask, and silk, and velvet, and gilt -ornaments in the style of France, were there in abundance, and had it -not been for the arches overhead, and the stone walls and narrow -windows around, the old hall might have passed for the saloon of some -newly-enriched financier of Paris. - -The young man sat at table alone--not that he was by any means fond of -solitude, for on the contrary he would have fain filled his house with -company--but for some reason or another, which he could not divine, he -found the old country gentlemen in the neighborhood somewhat shy of -his society. His wealth, his ostentation, his luxury--for he had begun -his new career with tremendous vehemence--had no effect upon them. -They looked upon him as somewhat vulgar, and treated him with mere -cold, supercilious civility as an upstart. There was one gentleman of -good family, indeed, at some distance, who had hung a good deal about -courts, had withered and impoverished himself, and reduced both his -mind and his fortune in place-hunting, and who had a large family of -daughters, to whom the society of John Ayliffe was the more -acceptable, and who not unfrequently rode over and dined with -him--nay, took a bed at the Hall. But that day he had not been over, -and although upon the calculation of chances, one might have augured -two to one John Ayliffe would ultimately marry one of the daughters, -yet at this period he was not very much smitten with any of them, and -was contemplating seriously a visit to London, where he thought his -origin would be unknown, and his wealth would procure him every sort -of enjoyment. - -Two servants were in the Hall, handing him the dishes. Well-cooked -viands were on the table, and rich wine. Every thing which John -Ayliffe in his sensual aspirations had anticipated from the possession -of riches was there--except happiness, and that was wanting. To sit -and feed, and feel one's self a scoundrel--to drink deep draughts, -were it of nectar, for the purpose of drowning the thought of our own -baseness--to lie upon the softest bed, and prop the head with the -downiest pillow, with the knowledge that all we possess is the fruit -of crime, can never give happiness--surely not, even to the most -depraved. - -That eating and drinking, however, was now one of John Ayliffe's chief -resources--drinking especially. He did not actually get intoxicated -every night before he went to bed, but he always drank to a sufficient -excess to cloud his faculties, to obfuscate his mind. He rather liked -to feel himself in that sort of dizzy state where the outlines of all -objects become indistinct, and thought itself puts on the same hazy -aspect. - -The servants had learned his habits already, and were very willing to -humor them; for they derived their own advantage therefrom. Thus, on -the present occasion, as soon as the meal was over, and the dishes -were removed, and the dessert put upon the table--a dessert consisting -principally of sweetmeats, for which he had a great fondness, with -stimulants to thirst. Added to these were two bottles of the most -potent wine in his cellar, with a store of clean glasses, and a jug of -water, destined to stand unmoved in the middle of the table. - -After this process it was customary never to disturb him, till, with a -somewhat wavering step, he found his way up to his bedroom. But on the -night of which I am speaking, John Ayliffe had not finished his fourth -glass after dinner, and was in the unhappy stage, which, with some -men, precedes the exhilarating stage of drunkenness, when the butler -ventured to enter with a letter in his hand. - -"I beg pardon for intruding, sir," he said, "but Mr. Cherrydew has -sent up a man on horseback from Hartwell with this letter, because -there is marked upon it, 'to be delivered with the greatest possible -haste.'" - -"Curse him!" exclaimed John Ayliffe, "I wish he would obey the orders -I give him. Why the devil does he plague me with letters at this time -of night?--there, give it to me, and go away," and taking the letter -from the man's hand, he threw it down on the table beside him, as if -it were not his intention to read it that night. Probably, indeed, it -was not; for he muttered as he looked at the address, "She wants more -money, I dare say, to pay for some trash or another. How greedy these -women are. The parson preached the other day about the horse-leech's -daughter. By ---- I think I have got the horse-leech's mother!" and he -laughed stupidly, not perceiving that the point of his sarcasm touched -himself. - -He drank another glass of wine, and then looked at the letter again; -but at length, after yet another glass, curiosity got the better of -his moodiness, and he opened the epistle. - -The first sight of the contents dispelled not only his indifference -but the effects of the wine he had taken, and he read the letter with -an eager and a haggard eye. The substance was as follows: - -"My dearest boy: - -"All is lost and discovered. I can but write you a very short account -of the things that have been happening here, for I am under what these -people call the surveillance of the police. I have got a few minutes, -however, and I will pay the maid secretly to give this to the post. -Never was such a time as I have had this morning. Four men have been -here, and among them Atkinson, who lived just down below at the -cottage with the gray shutters. He knew me in a minute, and told -everybody who I was. But that is not the worst of it, for they have -got a commissioner of police with him--a terrible looking man, who -took as much snuff as Mr. Jenkins, the justice of peace. They had got -all sorts of information in England about me, and you, and every body, -and they came to me to give them more, and cross-questioned me in a -terrible manner; and that ugly old Commissioner, in his black coat and -great wig, took my keys, and opened all the drawers and places. What -could I do to stop them? So they got all your letters to me; because I -could not bear to burn my dear boy's letters, and that letter from old -Sir John to my poor father, which I once showed you. So when they got -all those, there was no use of trying to conceal it any more, and, -besides, they might have sent me to the Bastile or the Tower of -London. So every thing has come out, and the best thing you can do is -to take whatever money you have got, or can get, and run away as fast -as possible, and come over here and take me away. One of them was as -fine a man as ever I saw, and quite a gentleman, though very severe. - -"Pray, my dear John, don't lose a moment's time, but run away before -they catch you; for they know every thing now, depend upon it, and -nothing will stop them from hanging you or sending you to the colonies -that you can do; for they have got all the proofs, and I could see by -their faces that they wanted nothing more; and if they do, my heart -will be quite broken, that is, if they hang you or send you to the -colonies, where you will have to work like a galley-slave, and a man -standing over you with a whip, beating your bare back very likely. So -run away, and come to your afflicted mother." - -She did not seem to have been quite sure what name to sign, for she -first put "Brown," but then changed the word to "Hastings," and then -again to "Ayliffe." There were two or three postscripts, but they were -of no great importance, and John Ayliffe did not take the trouble of -reading them. The terms he bestowed upon his mother--not in the -secrecy of his heart, but aloud and fiercely--were any thing but -filial, and his burst of rage lasted full five minutes before it was -succeeded by the natural fear and trepidation which the intelligence -he had received might well excite. Then, however, his terror became -extreme. The color, usually high, and now heightened both by rage and -wine, left his cheeks, and, as he read over some parts of his mother's -letter again, he trembled violently. - -"She has told all," he repeated to himself, "she has told all--and -most likely has added from his own fancy. They have got all my letters -too which the fool did not burn. What did say, I wonder? Too much--too -much, I am sure. Heaven and earth, what will come of it! Would to God -I had not listened to that rascal Shanks! Where should I go now for -advice? It must not be to him. He would only betray and ruin me--make -me the scape-goat--pretend that I had deceived him, I dare say. Oh, he -is a precious villain, and Mrs. Hazleton knows that too well to trust -him even with a pitiful mortgage--Mrs. Hazleton--I will go to her. She -is always kind to me, and she is devilish clever too--knows a good -deal more than Shanks if she did but understand the law--I will go to -her---she will tell me how to manage." - -No time was to be lost. Ride as hard as he could it would take him -more than an hour to reach Mrs. Hazleton's house, and it was already -late. He ordered a horse to be saddled instantly, ran to his bedroom, -drew on his boots, and then, descending to the hall, stood swearing at -the slowness of the groom till the sound of hoofs made him run to the -door. In a moment he was in the saddle and away, much to the -astonishment of the servants, who puzzled themselves a little as to -what intelligence their young master could have received, and then -proceeded to console themselves according to the laws and ordinances -of the servants' hall in such cases made and provided. The wine he had -left upon the table disappeared with great celerity, and the butler, -who was a man of precision, arrayed a good number of small silver -articles and valuable trinkets in such a way as to be packed up and -removed with great facility and secrecy. - -In the meanwhile John Ayliffe rode on at a furious pace, avoiding a -road which would have led him close by Mr. Shanks's dwelling, and -reached, Mrs. Hazleton's door about nine o'clock. - -That lady was sitting in a small room behind the drawing-room, which I -have already mentioned, where John Ayliffe was announced once more as -Sir John Hastings. But Mrs. Hazleton, in personal appearance at least, -was much changed since she was first introduced to the reader. She was -still wonderfully handsome. She had still that indescribable air of -calm, high-bred dignity which we are often foolishly inclined to -ascribe to noble feelings and a high heart; but which--where it is not -an art, an acquirement--only indicates, I am inclined to believe, when -it has any moral reference at all, strength of character and great -self-reliance. But Mrs. Hazleton was older--looked older a good -deal--more so than the time which had passed would alone account for. -The passions of the last two or three years had worn her sadly, and -probably the struggle to conceal those passions had worn her as much. -Nevertheless, she had grown somewhat fat under their influence, and a -wrinkle here and there in the fair skin was contradicted by the -plumpness of her figure. - -She rose with quiet, easy grace to meet her young guest, and held out -her hand to him, saying, "Really, my dear Sir John, you must not pay -me such late visits or I shall have scandal busying herself with my -good name." - -But even as she spoke she perceived the traces of violent agitation -which had not yet departed from John Ayliffe's visage, and she added, -"What is the matter? Has any thing gone wrong?" - -"Every thing is going to the devil, I believe," said John Ayliffe, as -soon as the servant had closed the door. "They have found out my -mother at St. Germain." - -He paused there to see what effect this first intelligence would -produce, and it was very great; for Mrs. Hazleton well knew that upon -the concealment of his mother's existence had depended one of the -principal points in his suit against Sir Philip Hastings. What was -going on in her mind, however, appeared not in her countenance. She -paused in silence, indeed, for a moment or two, and then said in her -sweet musical voice, "Well, Sir John, is that all?" - -"Enough too, dear Mrs. Hazleton!" replied the young man. "Why you -surely remember that it was judged absolutely necessary she should be -supposed dead--you yourself said, when we were talking of it, 'Send -her to France.' Don't you remember?" - -"No I do not," answered Mrs. Hazleton, thoughtfully; "and if I did it -could only be intended to save the poor thing from all the torment of -being cross-examined in a court of justice." - -"Ay, she has been cross-examined enough in France nevertheless," said -the young man bitterly, "and she has told every thing, Mrs. -Hazleton--all that she knew, and I dare say all that she guessed." - -This news was somewhat more interesting than even the former; it -touched Mrs. Hazleton personally to a certain extent, for all that -Jane Ayliffe knew and all that she guessed might comprise a great deal -that Mrs. Hazleton would not have liked the world to know or guess -either. She retained all her presence of mind however, and replied -quite quietly "Really, Sir John, I cannot at all form a judgment of -these things, or give you either assistance or advice, as I am anxious -to do, unless you explain the whole matter fully and clearly. What has -your mother done which seems to have affected you so much? Let me hear -the whole details, then I can judge and speak with some show of -reason. But calm yourself, calm yourself, my dear sir. We often at the -first glance of any unpleasant intelligence take fright, and thinking -the danger ten times greater than it really is, run into worse dangers -in trying to avoid it. Let me hear all, I say, and then I will -consider what is to be done." - -Now Mrs. Hazleton had already, from what she had just heard, -determined precisely and entirely what she would do. She had divined -in an instant that the artful game in which John Ayliffe had been -engaged, and in which she herself had taken a hand, was played out, -and that he was the loser; but it was a very important object with her -to ascertain if possible how far she herself had been compromised by -the revelations of Mrs. Ayliffe. This was the motive of her gentle -questions; for at heart she did not feel the least gentle. - -On the other hand John Ayliffe was somewhat angry. All frightened -people are angry when they find others a great deal less frightened -than themselves. Drawing forth his mother's letter then, he thrust it -towards Mrs. Hazleton, almost rudely, saying, "Read that, madam, and -you'll soon see all the details, that you could wish for." - -Mrs. Hazleton did read it from end to end, postscript and all, and she -saw with infinite satisfaction and delight, that her own name was -never once mentioned in the whole course of that delectable epistle. -As she read that part of the letter, however, in which Mrs. Ayliffe -referred to the very handsome gentlemanly man who had been one of her -unwished for visitors, Mrs. Hazleton said within herself, "This is -Marlow; Marlow has done this!" and tenfold bitterness took possession -of her heart. She folded up the letter with neat propriety, however, -and handed it back to John Ayliffe, saying, in her very sweetest -tones, "Well, I do not think this so very bad as you seem to imagine. -They have found out that your mother is still living, and that is all. -They cannot make much of that." - -"Not much of that!" exclaimed John Ayliffe, now nearly driven to -frenzy, "what if they convict one of perjury for swearing she was -dead?" - -"Did you swear she was dead?" exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton with an -exceedingly well assumed look of profound astonishment. - -"To be sure I did," he answered. "Why you proposed that she should be -sent away yourself, and Shanks drew out the affidavit." - -A mingled look of consternation and indignation came into Mrs. -Hazleton's beautiful face; but before she could make any reply he went -on, thinking he had frightened her; which was in itself a satisfaction -and a sort of triumph. - -"Ay, that you did," he said, "and not only that, but you advanced me -all the money to carry on the suit, and I am told that that is -punishable by law. Besides, you knew quite well of the leaf being torn -out of the register, so we are in the same basket I can tell you, Mrs. -Hazleton." - -"Sir, you insult me," said the lady, rising with an air of imperious -dignity. "The charity which induced me to advance you different sums -of money, without knowing what they were to be applied to--and I can -prove that some of them were applied to very different purposes than a -suit at law--has been misunderstood, I see. Had I advanced them to -carry on this suit, they would have been paid to your and my lawyer, -not to yourself. Not a word more, if you please! You have mistaken my -character as well as my motives, if you suppose that I will suffer you -to remain here one moment after you have insulted me by the very -thought that I was any sharer in your nefarious transactions." She -spoke in a loud shrill tone, knowing that the servants were in the -hall hard by, and then she added, "Save me the pain, sir, of ordering -some of the men to put you out of the house by quitting it directly." - -"Oh, yes, I will go, I will go," cried John Ayliffe, now quite -maddened, "I will go to the devil, and you too, madam," and he burst -out of the room, leaving the door open behind him. - -"I can compassionate misfortune," cried Mrs. Hazleton, raising her -voice to the very highest pitch for the benefit of others, "but I will -have nothing to do with roguery and fraud," and as she heard his -horse's feet clatter over the terrace, she heartily wished he might -break his neck before he passed the park gates. How far she was -satisfied, and how far she was not, must be shown in another chapter. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - - -John Ayliffe got out of the park gates quite safely, though he rode -down the slope covered with loose stones, as if he had no -consideration for his own neck or his horse's knees. He was in a state -of desperation, however, and feared little at that moment what became -of himself or any thing else. With fierce and angry eagerness he -revolved in his own mind the circumstances of his situation, the -conduct of Mrs. Hazleton, the folly, as he was pleased to term it, of -his mother, the crimes which he had himself committed, and he found no -place of refuge in all the dreary waste of thought. Every thing around -looked menacing and terrible, and the world within was all dark and -stormy. - -He pushed his horse some way on the road which he had come, but -suddenly a new thought struck him. He resolved to seek advice and aid -from one whom he had previously determined to avoid. "I will go to -Shanks," he said to himself, "he at least is in the same basket with -myself. He must work with me, for if my mother has been fool enough to -keep my letters, I have been wise enough to keep his--perhaps -something may be done after all. If not, he shall go along with me, -and we will try if we cannot bring that woman in too. He can prove all -her sayings and doings." Thus thinking, he turned his horse's head -towards the lawyer's house, and rode as hard as he could go till he -reached it. - -Mr. Shanks was enjoying life over a quiet comfortable bowl of punch in -a little room which looked much more tidy and comfortable, than it had -done twelve or eighteen months before. Mr. Shanks had been well paid. -Mr. Shanks had taken care of himself. No small portion of back rents -and costs had gone into the pockets of Mr. Shanks. Mr. Shanks was all -that he had ever desired to be, an opulent man. Moreover, he was one -of those happily constituted mortals who know the true use of -wealth--to make it a means of enjoyment. He had no scruples of -conscience--not he. He little cared how the money came, so that it -found its way into his pocket. He was not a man to let his mind be -troubled by any unpleasant remembrances; for he had a maxim that every -man's duty was to do the very best he could for his client, and that -every man's first client was himself. - -He heard a horse stop at his door, and having made up his mind to end -the night comfortably, to finish his punch and go to bed, he might -perhaps have been a little annoyed, had he not consoled himself with -the thought that the call must be upon business of importance, and he -had no idea of business of importance unconnected with that of a large -fee. - -"To draw a will, I'll bet any money," said Mr. Shanks to himself; "it -is either old Sir Peter, dying of indigestion, and sent for me when -he's no longer able to speak, or John Ayliffe broken his neck leaping -over a five-barred gate--John Ayliffe, bless us all, Sir John Hastings -I should have said." - -But the natural voice of John Ayliffe, asking for him in a loud -impatient tone, dispelled these visions of his fancy, and in another -moment the young man was in the room. - -"Ah, Sir John, very glad to see you, very glad to see you," said Mr. -Shanks, shaking his visitor's hand, and knocking out the ashes of his -pipe upon the hob; "just come in pudding time, my dear sir--just in -time for a glass of punch--bring some more lemons and some sugar, -Betty. A glass of punch will do you good. It is rather cold to-night." - -"As hot as h--l," answered John Ayliffe, sharply; "but I'll have the -punch notwithstanding," and he seated himself while the maid proceeded -to fulfil her master's orders. - -Mr. Shanks evidently saw that something had gone wrong with his young -and distinguished client, but anticipating no evil, he was led to -consider whether it was any thing referring to a litter of puppies, a -favorite horse, a fire at the hall, a robbery, or a want of some more -ready money. - -At length, however, the fresh lemons and sugar were brought, and the -door closed, before which, time John Ayliffe had helped himself to -almost all the punch which he had found remaining in the bowl. It was -not much, but it was strong, and Mr. Shanks applied himself to the -preparation of some more medicine of the same sort. John Ayliffe -suffered him to finish before he said any thing to disturb him, not -from any abstract reverence for the office which Mr. Shanks was -fulfilling, or for love of the beverage he was brewing, but simply -because John Ayliffe began to find that he might as well consider his -course a little. Consideration seldom served him very much, and in the -present instance, after he had labored hard to find out the best way -of breaking the matter, his impetuosity as usual got the better of -him, and he thrust his mother's letter into Mr. Shanks's hand, out of -which as a preliminary he took the ladle and helped himself to another -glass of punch. - -The consternation of Mr. Shanks, as he read Mrs. Ayliffe's letter, -stood out in strong opposition to Mrs. Hazleton's sweet calmness. He -was evidently as much terrified as his client; for Mr. Shanks did not -forget that he had written Mrs. Ayliffe two letters since she was -abroad, and as she had kept her son's epistles, Mr. Shanks argued that -it was very likely she had kept his also. Their contents, taken alone, -might amount to very little, but looked at in conjunction with other -circumstances might amount to a great deal. - -True, Mr. Shanks had avoided, as far as he could, any discussions in -regard to the more delicate secrets of his profession in the presence -of Mrs. Ayliffe, of whose discretion he was not as firmly convinced as -he could have desired; but it was not always possible to do so, -especially when he had been obliged to seek John Ayliffe in haste at -her house; and now the memories of many long and dangerous -conversations which had occurred in her presence, spread themselves -out before his eyes in a regular row, like items on the leaves of a -ledger. - -"Good God!" he cried, "what has she done?" - -"Every thing she ought not to have done, of course!" replied John -Ayliffe, replenishing his glass, "but the question now, is, Shanks, -what are we to do? That is the great question just now." - -"It is indeed," answered Mr. Shanks, in great agitation; "this is very -awkward, very awkward indeed." - -"I know that," answered John Ayliffe, laconically. - -"Well but, sir, what is to be done?" asked Mr. Shanks, fidgeting -uneasily about the table. - -"That is what I come to ask you, not to tell you," answered the young -man; "you see, Shanks, you and I are exactly in the same case, only I -have more to lose than you have. But whatever happens to me will -happen to you, depend upon it. I am not going to be the only one, -whatever Mrs. Hazleton may think." - -Shanks caught at Mrs. Hazleton's name; "Ay, that's a good thought," he -said, "we had better go and consult her. Let us put our three heads -together, and we may beat them yet--perhaps." - -"No use of going to her," answered John Ayliffe, bitterly; "I have -been to her, and she is a thorough vixen. She cried off having any -thing to do with me, and when I just told her quietly that, she ought -to help me out of the scrape because she had a hand in getting me into -it, she flew at my throat like a terrier bitch with a litter of -puppies, barked me out of the house as if I had been a beggar, and -called me almost rogue and swindler in the hearing of her own -servants." - -Mr. Shanks smiled--he could not refrain from smiling with a feeling of -admiration and respect, even in that moment of bitter apprehension, at -the decision, skill, and wisdom of Mrs. Hazleton's conduct. He -approved of her highly; but he perceived quite plainly that it would -not do for him to play the same game. A hope--a feeble hope--light -through a loop-hole, came in upon him in regard to the future, -suggested by Mrs. Hazleton's conduct. He thought that if he could but -clear away some difficulties, he too might throw all blame upon John -Ayliffe, and shovel the load of infamy from his own shoulders to those -of his client; but to effect this, it was not only necessary that he -should soothe John Ayliffe, but that he should provide for his safety -and escape. Recriminations he was aware were very dangerous things, -and that unless a man takes care that it shall not be in the power or -for the interest of a fellow rogue to say _tu quoque_, the effort to -place the burden on his shoulders only injures him without making our -own case a bit better. It was therefore requisite for his purposes -that he should deprive John Ayliffe of all interest or object in -criminating him; but foolish knaves are very often difficult to deal -with, and he knew his young client to be eminent in that class. -Wishing for a little time to consider, he took occasion to ask one or -two meaningless questions, without at all attending to the replies. - -"When did this letter arrive here?" he inquired. - -"This very night," answered John Ayliffe, "not three hours ago." - -"Do you think she has really told all?" asked Mr. Shanks. - -"All, and a great deal more," replied the young man. - -"How long has she been at St. Germain?" said the lawyer. - -"What the devil does that signify?" said John Ayliffe, growing -impatient. - -"A great deal, a great deal," replied Mr. Shanks, sagely. "Take some -more punch. You see perhaps we can prove that you and I really thought -her dead at the time the affidavit was made." - -"Devilish difficult that," said John Ayliffe, taking the punch. "She -wrote to me about some more money just at that time, and I was obliged -to answer her letter and send it, so that if they have got the letters -that won't pass." - -"We'll try at least," said Mr. Shanks in a bolder tone. - -"Ay, but in trying we may burn our fingers worse than ever," said the -young man. "I do not want to be tried for perjury and conspiracy, and -sent to the colonies with the palm of my hand burnt out, whatever you -may do, Shanks." - -"No, no, that would never do," replied the lawyer. "The first thing to -be done, my dear Sir John, is to provide for your safety, and that can -only be done by your getting out of the way for a time. It is very -natural that a young gentleman of fortune like yourself should go to -travel, and not at all unlikely that he should do so without letting -any one know where he is for a few months. That will be the best plan -for you you must go and travel. They can't well be on the look-out for -you yet, and you can get away quite safely to-morrow morning. You need -not say where you are going, and by that means you will save both -yourself and the property too; for they can't proceed against you in -any way when you are absent." - -John Ayliffe was not sufficiently versed in the laws of the land to -perceive that Mr. Shanks was telling him a falsehood. "That's a good -thought," he said; "if I can live abroad and keep hold of the rents we -shall be safe enough." - -"Certainly, certainly," said Mr. Shanks, "that is the only plan. Then -let them file their bills, or bring their actions or what not. They -cannot compel you to answer if you are not within the realm." - -Mr. Shanks was calling him all the time, in his own mind, a -jolter-headed ass, but John Ayliffe did not perceive it, and replied -with a touch of good feeling, perhaps inspired by the punch, "But what -is to become of you, Shanks?" - -"Oh, I will stay and face it out," replied the lawyer, "with a bold -front. If we do not peach of each other they cannot do much against -us. Mrs. Hazleton dare not commit us, for by so doing she would commit -herself; and your mother's story will not avail very much. As to the -letters, which is the worst part of the business, we must try and -explain those away; but clearly the first thing for you to do is to -get out of England as soon as possible. You can go and see your mother -secretly, and if you can but get her to prevaricate a little in her -testimony it will knock it all up." - -"Oh, she'll prevaricate enough if they do but press her hard," said -John Ayliffe. "She gets so frightened at the least thing she doesn't -know what she says. But the worst of it is, Shanks, I have not got -money enough to go. I have not got above a hundred guineas in the -house." - -Mr. Shanks paused and hesitated. It was a very great object with him -to get John Ayliffe out of the country, in order that he might say any -thing he liked of John Ayliffe when his back was turned, but it was -also a very great object with him to keep all the money he had got. He -did not like to part with one sixpence of it. After a few moments' -thought, however, he recollected that a thousand pounds' worth of -plate had come down from London for the young man within the last two -months, and he thought he might make a profitable arrangement. - -"I have got three hundred pounds in the house," he said, "all in good -gold, but I can really hardly afford to part with it. However, rather -than injure you, Sir John, I will let you have it if you will give me -the custody of your plate till your return, just that I may have -something to show if any one presses me for money." - -The predominant desire of John Ayliffe's mind, at that moment, was to -get out of England as fast as possible, and he was too much blinded by -fear and anxiety to perceive that the great desire of Mr. Shanks was -to get him out. But there was one impediment. The sum of four hundred -pounds thus placed at his command would, some years before, have -appeared the Indies to him, but now, with vastly expanded ideas with -regard to expense, it seemed a drop of water in the ocean. "Three -hundred pounds, Shanks," he said, "what's the use of three hundred -pounds? It would not keep me a month." - -"God bless my soul!" said Mr. Shanks, horrified at such a notion, "why -it would keep me a whole year, and more too. Moreover, things are -cheaper there than they are here; and besides you have got all those -jewels, and knick-knacks, and things, which cost you at least a couple -of thousand pounds. They would sell for a great deal." - -"Come, come, Shanks," said the young man, "you must make it five -hundred guineas. I know you've got them in your strong box here." - -Shanks shook his head, and John Ayliffe added sullenly, "Then I'll -stay and fight it out too. I won't go and be a beggar in a foreign -land." - -Shanks did not like the idea of his staying, and after some farther -discussion a compromise was effected. Mr. Shanks agreed to advance -four hundred pounds. John Ayliffe was to make over to him, as a -pledge, the whole of his plate, and not to object to a memorandum to -that effect being drawn up immediately, and dated a month before. The -young man was to set off the very next day, in the pleasant gray of -the morning, driving his own carriage and horses, which he was to sell -as soon as he got a convenient distance from his house, and Mr. Shanks -was to take the very best possible care of his interests during his -absence. - -John Ayliffe's spirits rose at the conclusion of this transaction. He -calculated that with one thing or another he should have sufficient -money to last him a year, and that was quite as far as his thoughts or -expectations went. A long, long year! What does youth care for any -thing beyond a year? It seems the very end of life to pant in -expectation, and indeed, and in truth, it is very often too long for -fate. - -"Next year I will"-- Pause, young man! there is a deep pitfall in the -way. Between you and another year may lie death. Next year thou wilt -do nothing--thou wilt be nothing. - -His spirits rose. He put the money into his pocket, and, with more wit -than he thought, called it "light heaviness," and then he sat down and -smoked a pipe, while Mr. Shanks drew up the paper; and then he drank -punch, and made more, and drank that too, so that when the paper -giving Mr. Shanks a lien upon the silver was completed, and when a -dull neighbor had been called in to see him sign his name, it needed a -witness indeed to prove that that name was John Ayliffe's writing. - -By this time he would very willingly have treated the company to a -song, so complete had been the change which punch and new prospects -had effected; but Mr. Shanks besought him to be quiet, hinting that -the neighbor, though as deaf as a post and blind as a mole, would -think him as the celebrated sow of the psalmist. Thereupon John -Ayliffe went forth and got his horse out of the stable, mounted upon -his back, and rode lolling at a sauntering pace through the end of the -town in which Mr. Shanks's house was situated. When he got more into -the Country he began to trot, then let the horse fall into a walk -again, and then he beat him for going slow. Thus alternately -galloping, walking, and trotting, he rode on till he was two or three -hundred yards past the gates of what was called the Court, where the -family of Sir Philip Hastings now lived. It was rather a dark part of -the road, and there was something white in the hedge--some linen -put out to dry, or a milestone. John Ayliffe was going at a quick -pace at that moment, and the horse suddenly shied at this white -apparition--not only shied, but started, wheeled round, and ran back. -John Ayliffe kept his seat, notwithstanding his tipsiness, but he -struck the furious horse over the head, and pulled the rein violently. -The annual plunged--reared--the young man gave the rein a furious tug, -and over went the horse upon the road, with his driver under him. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - - -There was a man lay upon the road in the darkness of the night for -some five or six minutes, and a horse galloped away snorting, with a -broken bridle hanging at his head, on the way towards the park of Sir -Philip Hastings. Had any carriage come along, the man who was lying -there must have been run over; for the night was exceedingly dark, and -the road narrow. All was still and silent, however. No one was seen -moving--not a sound was heard except the distant clack of a water-mill -which lay further down the valley. There was a candle in a cottage -window at about a hundred yards' distance, which shot a dim and feeble -ray athwart the road, but shed no light on the spot where the man lay. -At the end of about six minutes, a sort of convulsive movement showed -that life was not yet extinct in his frame--a sort of heave of the -chest, and a sudden twitch of the arm; and a minute or two after, John -Ayliffe raised himself on his elbow, at put his hand to his head. - -"Curse the brute," he said, in a wandering sort of way, "I wonder, -Shanks, you don't--damn it, where am I?--what's the matter? My side -and leg are cursed sore, and my head all running round." - -He remained in the same position for a moment or two more, and then -got upon his feet; but the instant he did so he fell to the ground -again with a deep groan, exclaiming, "By--, my leg's broken, and I -believe my ribs too. How the devil shall I get out of this scrape? -Here I may lie and die, without any body ever coming near me. That is -old Jenny Best's cottage, I believe. I wonder if I could make the old -canting wretch hear," and he raised his voice to shout, but the pain -was two great. His ribs were indeed broken, and pressing upon his -lungs, and all that he could do was to lie still and groan. - -About a quarter of an hour after, however, a stunt, middle-aged -man--rather, perhaps, in the decline of life--came by, carrying a -hand-basket, plodding at a slow and weary pace as if he had had a long -walk. - -"Who's that? Is any one there?" said a feeble voice, as he approached; -and he ran up, exclaiming, "Gracious me, what is the matter? Are you -hurt, sir? What has happened?" - -"Is that you, Best?" said the feeble voice of John Ayliffe, "my horse -has reared and fallen over with me. My leg is broken, and the bone -poking through, and my ribs are broken too, I think." - -"Stay a minute, Sir John," said the good countryman, "and I'll get -help, and we'll carry you up to the Hall." - -"No, no," answered John Ayliffe, who had now had time for thought, -"get a mattress, or a door, or something, and carry me into your -cottage. If your son is at home, he and you can carry me. Don't send -for strangers." - -"I dare say he is at home, sir," replied the man. "He's a good lad, -sir, and comes home as soon as his work's done. I will go and see. I -won't be a minute." - -He was as good as his word, and in less than a minute returned with -his son, bringing a lantern and a straw mattress. - -Not without inflicting great pain, and drawing forth many a heavy -groan, the old man and the young one placed John Ayliffe on the -paliasse, and carried him into the cottage, where he was laid upon -young Best's bed in the back room. Good Jenny Best, as John Ayliffe -had called her--an excellent creature as ever lived--was all kindness -and attention, although to say truth the suffering man had not shown -any great kindness to her and hers in his days of prosperity. She was -eager to send off her son immediately for the surgeon, and did so in -the end; but to the surprise of the whole of the little cottage party, -it was not without a great deal of reluctance and hesitation that John -Ayliffe suffered this to be done. They showed him, however, that he -must die or lose his limb if surgical assistance was not immediately -procured, and he ultimately consented, but told the young man -repeatedly not to mention his name even to the surgeon on any account, -but simply to say that a gentleman had been thrown by his horse, and -brought into the cottage with his thigh broken. He cautioned father -and mother too not to mention the accident to any one till he was well -again, alluding vaguely to reasons that he had for wishing to conceal -it. - -"But, Sir John," replied Best himself, "your horse will go home, -depend upon it, and your servants will not know where you are, and -there will be a fuss about you all over the country." - -"Well, then, let them make a fuss," said John Ayliffe, impatiently. "I -don't care--I will not have it mentioned." - -All this seemed very strange to the good wan and his wife, but they -could only open their eyes and stare, without venturing farther to -oppose the wishes of their guest. - -It seemed a very long time before the surgeon made his appearance, but -at length the sound of a horse's feet coming fast, could be -distinguished, and two minutes after the surgeon was in the room. He -was a very good man, though not the most skilful of his profession, -and he was really shocked and confounded when he saw the state of Sir -John Hastings, as he called him. Wanting confidence in himself, he -would fain have sent off immediately for farther assistance, but John -Ayliffe would not hear of such a thing, and the good man went to work -to set the broken limb as best he might, and relieve the anguish of -the sufferer. So severe, however, were the injuries which had been -received, that notwithstanding a strong constitution, as yet but -little impaired by debauchery, the patient was given over by the -surgeon in his own mind from the first. He remained with him, watching -him all night, which passed nearly without sleep on the part of John -Ayliffe; and in the course of the long waking hours he took an -opportunity of enjoining secrecy upon the surgeon as to the accident -which had happened to him, and the place where he was lying. Not less -surprised was the worthy man than the cottager and his wife had been -at the young gentleman's exceeding anxiety for concealment, and as his -licentious habits were no secret in the country round, they all -naturally concluded that the misfortune which had overtaken him had -occurred in the course of some adventure more dangerous and -disgraceful than usual. - -Towards morning John Ayliffe fell into a sort of semi-sleep, restless -and perturbed, speaking often without reason having guidance of his -words, and uttering many things which, though disjointed and often -indistinct, showed the good man who had watched by him that the mind -was as much affected as the body. He woke confused and wandering about -eight o'clock, but speedily returned to consciousness of his -situation, and insisted, notwithstanding the pain he was suffering, -upon examining the money which was in his pockets to see that it was -all right. Vain precaution! He was never destined to need it more. - -Shortly after the surgeon left him, but returned at night again to -watch by his bedside. The bodily symptoms which he now perceived would -have led him to believe that a cure was possible, but there was a deep -depression of mind, a heavy irritable sombreness, from the result of -which the surgeon augured much evil. He saw that there was some -terrible weight upon the young man's heart, but whether it was fear or -remorse or disappointment he could not tell, and more than once he -repeated to himself, "He wants a priest as much as a physician." - -Again the surgeon would often argue with himself in regard to the -propriety of telling him the very dangerous state in which he was. "He -may at any time become delirious," he said, "and lose all power of -making those dispositions and arrangements which, I dare say, have -never been thought of in the time of health and prosperity. Then, -again, his house and all that it contains is left entirely in the -hands of servants-a bad set too, as ever existed, who are just as -likely to plunder and destroy as not; but on the other hand, if I tell -him it may only increase his dejection and cut off all hope of -recovery. Really I do not know what to do. Perhaps it would be better -to wait awhile, and if I should see more unfavorable symptoms and no -chance left, it will then be time enough to tell him his true -situation and prepare his mind for the result." - -Another restless, feverish night passed, another troubled sleep -towards morning, and then John Ayliffe woke with a start, exclaiming, -"You did not tell them I was here--lying here unable to stir, unable -to move--I told you not, I told you not. By--" and then he looked -round, and seeing none but the surgeon in the room, relapsed into -silence. - -The surgeon felt his pulse, examined the bandages, and saw that a -considerable and unfavorable change had taken place; but yet he -hesitated. He was one of those men who shrink from the task of telling -unpleasant truths. He was of a gentle and a kindly disposition, which -even the necessary cruelties of surgery had not been able to harden. - -"He may say what he likes," he said, "I must have some advice as to -how I should act. I will go and talk with the parson about the matter. -Though a little lacking in the knowledge of the world, yet Dixwell is -a good man and a sincere Christian. I will see him as I go home, but -make him promise secrecy in the first place, as this young baronet is -so terribly afraid of the unfortunate affair being known. He will die, -I am afraid, and that before very long, and I am sure he is not in a -fit state for death." With this resolution he said some soothing words -to his patient, gave him what he called a composing draught, and sent -for his horse from a neighboring farm-house, where he had lodged it -for the night. He then rode at a quiet, thoughtful pace to the -parsonage house at the gates of the park, and quickly walked in. Mr. -Dixwell was at breakfast, reading slowly one of the broad sheets of -the day as an especial treat, for they seldom found their way into his -quiet rectory; but he was very glad to see the surgeon, with whom he -often contrived to have a pleasant little chat in regard to the -affairs of the neighborhood. - -"Ah, Mr. Short, very glad to see you, my good friend. How go things in -your part of the world? We are rather in a little bustle here, though -I think it is no great matter." - -"What is it, Mr. Dixwell?" asked the surgeon. - -"Only that wild young man, Sir John Hastings," said the clergyman, -"left his house suddenly on horseback the night before last, and has -never returned. But he is accustomed to do all manner of strange -things, and has often been out two or three nights before without any -one knowing where he was. The butler came down and spoke to me about -it, but I think there was a good deal of affectation in his alarm, for -when I asked him he owned his master had once been away for a whole -week." - -"Has his horse come back?" asked the surgeon. - -"Not that I know of," replied Mr. Dixwell. "I suppose the man would -have mentioned it if such had been the case. But what is going on at -Hartwell?" - -"Nothing particular," said the surgeon, "only Mrs. Harrison brought -to bed of twins on Saturday night at twenty minutes past eleven. I -think all those Harrisons have twins--but I have something to talk to -you about, my good friend, a sort of case of conscience I want to put -to you. Only you must promise me profound secrecy." - -Mr. Dixwell laughed--"What, under the seal of confession?" he said. -"Well, well, I am no papist, as you know, Short, but I'll promise and -do better than any papist does, keep my word when I have promised -without mental reservation." - -"I know you will, my good friend," answered the surgeon, "and this is -no jesting matter, I can assure you. Now listen, my good friend, -listen. Not many evenings ago, I was sent for suddenly to attend a -young man who had met with an accident, a very terrible accident too. -He had a compound fracture of the thigh, three of his ribs broken, and -his head a good deal knocked about, but the cranium uninjured. I had -at first tolerable hope of his recovery; but he is getting much worse -and I fear that he will die." - -"Well, you can't help that," said Mr. Dixwell, "men will die in spite -of all you can do, Short, just as they will sin in spite of all I can -say." - -"Ay, there's the rub," said the surgeon, "I fear he has sinned a very -tolerably sufficient quantity, and I can see that there is something -or another weighing very heavy on his mind, which is even doing great -harm to his body." - -"I will go and see him, I will go and see him," said Mr. Dixwell, "it -will do him good in all ways to unburden his conscience, and to hear -the comfortable words of the gospel." - -"But the case is, Mr. Dixwell," said Short, "that he has positively -forbidden me to let any of his friends know where he lies, or to speak -of the accident to any one." - -"Pooh, nonsense," said the clergyman, "if a man has fractured his -skull and you thought it fit to trepan him, would you ask him whether -he liked it or not? If the young man is near death, and his conscience -is burdened, I am the physician who should be sent for rather than -you." - -"I fancy his conscience is burdened a good deal," said Mr. Short, -thoughtfully; "nay, I cannot help thinking that he was engaged in some -very bad act at the time this happened, both from his anxiety to -conceal from every body where he now lies, and from various words he -has dropped, sometimes in his sleep, sometimes when waking confused -and half delirious. What puzzles me is, whether I should tell him his -actual situation or not." - -"Tell him, tell him by all means," said Mr. Dixwell, "why should you -not tell him?" - -"Simply because I think that it will depress his mind still more," -replied the surgeon, "and that may tend to deprive him even of the -very small chance that exists of recovery." - -"The soul is of more value than the body," replied the clergyman, -earnestly; "if he be the man you depict, my friend, he should have as -much time as possible to prepare--he should have time to repent--ay, -and to atone. Tell him by all means, or let me know where he is to be -found, and I will tell him." - -"That I must not do," said Mr. Short, "for I am under a sort of -promise not to tell; but if you really think that I ought to tell him -myself, I will go back and do it." - -"If I really think!" exclaimed Mr. Dixwell, "I have not the slightest -doubt of it. It is your bounden duty if you be a Christian. Not only -tell him, my good friend, but urge him strongly to send for some -minister of religion. Though friends may fail him, and he may not wish -to see them--though all worldly supports may give way beneath him, and -he may find no strengthening--though all earthly hopes may pass away, -and give him no mortal cheer, the gospel of Christ can never fail to -support, and strengthen, and comfort, and elevate. The sooner he knows -that his tenement of clay is falling to the dust of which it was -raised, the better will be his readiness to quit it, and it is wise, -most wise, to shake ourselves free altogether from the dust and -crumbling ruins of this temporal state, ere they fall upon our heads -and bear us down to the same destruction as themselves." - -"Well, well, I will go back and tell him," said Mr. Short, and bidding -the good rector adieu, he once more mounted his horse and rode away. - -Now Mr. Dixwell was an excellent good man, but he was not without -certain foibles, especially those that sometimes accompany -considerable simplicity of character. "I will see which way he takes," -said Mr. Dixwell, "and go and visit the young man myself if I can find -him out;" and accordingly he marched up stairs to his bedroom, which -commanded a somewhat extensive prospect of the country, and traced the -surgeon, as he trotted slowly and thoughtfully along. He could not -actually see the cottage of the Bests, but he perceived that the -surgeon there passed over the brow of the hill, and after waiting for -several minutes, he did not catch any horseman rising upon the -opposite slope over which the road was continued. Now there was no -cross road in the hollow and only three houses, and therefore Mr. -Dixwell naturally concluded that to one of those three houses the -surgeon had gone. - -In the mean while, Mr. Short rode on unconscious that his movements -were observed, and meditating with a troubled mind upon the best means -of conveying the terrible intelligence he had to communicate. He did -not like the task at all; but yet he resolved to perform it manfully, -and dismounting at the cottage door, he went in again. There was -nobody within but the sick man and good old Jenny Best. The old woman -was at the moment in the outer room, and when she saw the surgeon she -shook her head, and said in a low voice, "Ah, dear, I am glad you have -come back again, sir, he does not seem right at all." - -"Who's that?" said the voice of John Ayliffe; and going in, Mr. Short -closed the doors between the two rooms. - -"There, don't shut that door," said John Ayliffe, "it is so infernally -close--I don't feel at all well, Mr. Short--I don't know what's the -matter with me. It's just as if I had got no heart. I think a glass of -brandy would do me good." - -"It would kill you," said the surgeon. - -"Well," said the young man, "I'm not sure that would not be best for -me--come," he continued sharply, "tell me how long I am to lie here on -my back?" - -"That I cannot tell, Sir John," replied the surgeon, "but at all -events, supposing that you do recover, and that every thing goes well, -you could not hope to move for two or three months." - -"Supposing I was to recover!" repeated John Ayliffe in a low tone, as -if the idea of approaching death had then, for the first time, struck -him as something real and tangible, and not a mere name. He paused -silently for an instant, and then asked almost fiercely, "what brought -you back?" - -"Why, Sir John, I thought it might be better for us to have a little -conversation," said the surgeon. "I can't help being afraid, Sir John, -that you may have a great number of things to settle, and that not -anticipating such a very severe accident, your affairs may want a good -deal of arranging. Now the event of all sickness is uncertain, and an -accident such as this especially. It is my duty to inform you," he -continued, rising in resolution and energy as he proceeded, "that your -case is by no means free from danger--very great danger indeed." - -"Do you mean to say that I am dying?" asked John Ayliffe, in a hoarse -voice. - -"No, no, not exactly dying," said the surgeon, putting his hand upon -his pulse, "not dying I trust just yet, but--" - -"But I shall die, you mean?" cried the other. - -"I think it not at all improbable," answered the surgeon, gravely, -"that the case may have a fatal result." - -"Curse fatal results," cried John Ayliffe, giving way to a burst of -fury; "why the devil do you come back to tell me such things and make -me wretched? If I am to die, why can't you let me die quietly and know -nothing about it?" - -"Why, Sir John, I thought that you might have many matters to settle," -answered the surgeon somewhat irritated, "and that your temporal and -your spiritual welfare also required you should know your real -situation." - -"Spiritual d----d nonsense!" exclaimed John Ayliffe, furiously; "I -dare say it's all by your folly and stupidity that I am likely to die -at all. Why I hear of men breaking their legs and their ribs every day -and being none the worse for it." - -"Why, Sir John, if you do not like my advice you need not have it," -answered the surgeon; "I earnestly wished to send for other -assistance, and you would not let me." - -"There, go away, go away and leave me," said John Ayliffe; but as the -surgeon took up his hat and walked towards the door, he added, "come -again at night. You shall be well paid for it, never fear." - -Mr. Short made no reply, but walked out of the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. - - -Solitude and silence, and bitter thought are great tamers of the human -heart. "As ye sow, so shall ye reap," says the Apostle, and John -Ayliffe was now forced to put in the sickle. Death was before his -eyes, looming large and dark and terrible, like the rock of adamant in -the fairy tale, against which the bark of the adventurous mariner was -sure to be dashed. Death for the first time presented itself to his -mind in all its grim reality. Previously it had seemed with him a -thing hardly worth considering--inevitable--appointed to all men--to -every thing that lives and breathes--no more to man than to the sheep, -or the ox, or any other of the beasts that perish. He had contemplated -it merely as death--as the extinction of being--as the goal of a -career--as the end of a chase where one might lie down and rest, and -forget the labor and the clamor and the trouble of the course. He had -never in thought looked beyond the boundary--he had hardly asked -himself if there was aught beyond. He had satisfied himself by saying, -as so many men do, "Every man must die some time or another," and had -never asked his own heart, "What is it to die?" - -But now death presented itself under a new aspect; cold and stern, -relentless and mysterious, saying in a low solemn tone, "I am the -guide. Follow me there. Whither I lead thou knowest not, nor seest -what shall befall thee. The earth-worm and the mole fret but the -earthly garment of the man; the flesh, and the bones, and the beauty -go down to dust, and ashes, and corruption. The man comes with me to a -land undeclared--to a presence infinitely awful--to judgment and to -fate; for on this side of the dark portal through which I am the -guide, there is no such thing as fate. It lies beyond the grave, and -thither thou must come without delay." - -He had heard of immortality, but he had never thought of it. He had -been told of another world, but he had never rightly believed in it. -The thought of a just judge, and of an eternal doom, had been -presented to him in many shapes, but he had never received it; and he -had lived and acted, and thought and felt, as if there were neither -eternity, nor judgment, nor punishment. But in that dread hour the -deep-rooted, inexplicable conviction of a God and immortality, -implanted in the hearts of all men, and only crushed down in the -breasts of any by the dust of vanity and the lumber of the world, -rose up and bore its fruits according to the soil. They were all -bitter. If there were another life, a judgment, an eternity of weal or -woe, what was to be his fate? How should he meet the terrors of the -judgment-seat--he who had never prayed from boyhood--he who through -life had never sought God--he who had done in every act something that -conscience reproved, and that religion forbade? - -Every moment as he lay there and thought, the terrors of the vast -unbounded future grew greater and more awful. The contemplation almost -drove him to frenzy, and he actually made an effort to rise from his -bed, but fell back again with a deep groan. The sound caught the ear -of good Jenny Best, and running in she asked if he wanted any thing. - -"Stay with me, stay with me," said the unhappy young man, "I cannot -bear this--it is very terrible--I am dying, Mrs. Best, I am dying." - -Mrs. Best shook her head with a melancholy look; but whether from -blunted feelings, from the hard and painful life which they endured, -or from a sense that there is to be compensation somewhere, and that -any change must be for the better, or cannot be much worse than the -life of this earth, or from want of active imagination, the poorer and -less educated classes I have generally remarked view death and all its -accessories with less of awe, if not of dread, than those who have -been surrounded by luxuries, and perhaps have used every effort to -keep the contemplation of the last dread scene afar, till it is -actually forced upon their notice. Her words were homely, and though -intended to comfort did not give much consolation to the dying man. - -"Ah well, sir, it is very sad," she said, "to die so young; though -every one must die sooner or later, and it makes but little difference -whether it be now or then. Life is not so long to look back at, sir, -as to look forward to, and when one dies young one is spared many a -thing. I recollect my poor eldest son who is gone, when he lay dying -just like you in that very bed, and I was taking on sadly, he said to -me, 'Mother don't cry so. It's just as well for me to go now when I've -not done much mischief or suffered much sorrow.' He was as good a -young man as ever lived; and so Mr. Dixwell said; for the parson used -to come and see him every day, and that was a great comfort and -consolation to the poor boy." - -"Was it?" said John Ayliffe, thoughtfully. "How long did he know he -was dying?" - -"Not much above a week, sir," said Mrs. Best; "for till Mr. Dixwell -told him, he always thought he would get better. We knew it a long -time however, for he had been in a decline a year, and his father had -been laying by money for the funeral three months before he died. So -when it was all over we put him by quite comfortable." - -"Put him by!" said John Ayliffe. - -"Yes, sir, we buried him, I mean," answered Mrs. Best. "That's our way -of talking. But Mr. Dixwell had been to see him long before. He knew -that he was dying, and he wouldn't tell him as long as there was any -hope; for he said it was not necessary--that he had never seen any one -better prepared to meet his Maker than poor Robert, and that it was no -use to disturb him about the matter till it came very near." - -"Ah, Dixwell is a wise man and a good man," said John Ayliffe. "I -should very much like to see him." - -"I can run for him in a minute sir," said Dame Best, but John Ayliffe -replied, in a faint voice, "No, no, don't, don't on any account." - -In the mean while, the very person of whom they were speaking had -descended from the up-stairs room, finished his breakfast in order to -give the surgeon time to fulfil his errand, and then putting on his -three-cornered hat had walked out to ascertain at what house Mr. Short -had stopped. The first place at which he inquired was the farm-house -at which the good surgeon had stabled his horse on the preceding -night. Entering by the kitchen door, he found the good woman of the -place bustling about amongst pots and pans and maidservants, and other -utensils, and though she received him with much reverence, she did not -for a moment cease her work. - -"Well, Dame," he said, "I hope you're all well here." - -"Quite well, your reverence----Betty, empty that pail." - -"Why, I've seen Mr. Short come down here," said the parson, "and I -thought somebody might be ill." - -"Very kind, your reverence--mind yen don't spill it.--No, it warn't -here. It's some young man down at Jenny Best's, who's baddish, I -fancy, for the Doctor stabled his horse here last night." - -"I am glad to hear none of you are ill," said Mr. Dixwell, and bidding -her good morning, he walked away straight to the cottage where John -Ayliffe lay. There was no one in the outer room, and the good -clergyman, privileged by his cloth, walked straight on into the room -beyond, and stood by the bedside of the dying man before any one was -aware of his presence. - -Mr. Dixwell was not so much surprised to see there on that bed of -death the face of him he called Sir John Hastings, as might be -supposed. The character which the surgeon had given of his patient, -the mysterious absence of the young man from the Hall, and the very -circumstance of his unwillingness to have his name and the place where -he was lying known, had all lent a suspicion of the truth. John -Ayliffe's eyes were shut at the moment he entered, and he seemed -dozing, though in truth sleep was far away. But the little movement of -Mr. Dixwell towards his bedside, and of Mrs. Best giving place for the -clergyman to sit down, caused him to open his eyes, and his first -exclamation was, "Ah, Dixwell! so that damned fellow Short has -betrayed me, and told when I ordered him not." - -"Swear not at all," said Mr. Dixwell. "Short has not betrayed you, Sir -John. I came here by accident, merely hearing there was a young man -lying ill here, but without knowing actually that it was you, although -your absence from home has caused considerable uneasiness. I am very -sorry to see you in such a state. How did all this happen?" - -"I will not tell you, nor answer a single word," replied John Ayliffe, -"unless you promise not to say a word of my being here to any one. I -know you will keep your word if you say so, and Jenny Best too--won't -you, Jenny?--but I doubt that fellow Short." - -"You need not doubt him, Sir John," said the clergyman; "for he is -very discreet. As for me, I will promise, and will keep my word; for I -see not what good it could be to reveal it to any body if you dislike -it. You will be more tenderly nursed here, I am sure, than you would -be by unprincipled, dissolute servants, and since your poor mother's -death--" - -John Ayliffe groaned heavily, and the clergyman stopped. The next -moment, however, the young man said, "Then you do promise, do you?" - -"I do," replied Mr. Dixwell. "I will not at all reveal the facts -without your consent." - -"Well, then, sit down, and let us be alone together for a bit," said -John Ayliffe, and Mrs. Best quietly quitted the room and shut the -door. - -John Ayliffe turned his languid eyes anxiously upon the clergyman, -saying, "I think I am dying, Mr. Dixwell." - -He would fain have had a contradiction or even a ray of earthly hope; -but he got none; for it was evident to the eyes of Mr. Dixwell, -accustomed as he had been for many years to attend by the bed of -sickness and see the last spark of life go out, that John Ayliffe was -a dying man--that he might live hours, nay days; but that the -irrevocable summons had been given, that he was within the shadow of -the arch, and must pass through! - -"I am afraid you are, Sir John," he replied, "but I trust that God -will still afford you time to make preparation for the great change -about to take place, and by his grace I will help you to the utmost in -my power." - -John Ayliffe was silent, and closed his eyes again. Nor was he the -first to speak; for after having waited for several minutes, Mr. -Dixwell resumed, saying in a grave but kindly tone, "I am afraid, Sir -John, you have not hitherto given much thought to the subject which is -now so sadly fixed upon you. We must make haste, my good sir; we must -not lose a moment." - -"Then do you think I am going to die so soon?" asked the young man -with a look of horror; for it cost him a hard and terrible struggle to -bring his mind to grasp the thought of death being inevitable and nigh -at hand. He could hardly conceive it--he could hardly believe it--that -he who had so lately been full of life and health, who had been -scheming schemes, and laying out plans, and had looked upon futurity -as a certain possession--that, he was to die in a few short hours; but -whenever the wilful heart would have rebelled against the sentence, -and struggle to resist it, sensations which he had never felt before, -told him in a voice not to be mistaken, "It must be so!" - -"No one can tell," replied Mr. Dixwell, "how soon it may be, or how -long God may spare you; but one thing is certain, Sir John, that years -with you have now dwindled down into days, and that days may very -likely be shortened to hours. But had you still years to live, I -should say the same thing, that no time is to be lost; too much has -been lost already." - -John Ayliffe did not comprehend him in the least. He could not grasp -the idea as yet of a whole life being made a preparation for death, -and looked vacantly in the clergyman's face, utterly confounded at the -thought. - -Mr. Dixwell had a very difficult task before him--one of the most -difficult he had ever undertaken; for he had not only to arouse the -conscience, but to awaken the intellect to things importing all to the -soul's salvation, which had never been either felt or believed, or -comprehended before. At first too, there was the natural repugnance -and resistance of a wilful, selfish, over-indulged heart to receive -painful or terrible truths, and even when the obstacle was overcome, -the young man's utter ignorance of religion and want of moral feeling -proved another almost insurmountable. He found that the only access to -John Ayliffe's heart was by the road of terror, and without scruple he -painted in stern and fearful colors the awful state of the impenitent -spirit called suddenly into the presence of its God. With an unpitying -hand he stripped away all self-delusions from the young man's mind and -laid his condition before him, and his future state in all their dark -and terrible reality. - -This is not intended for what is called a religious book, and -therefore I must pass over the arguments he used, and the course he -proceeded in. Suffice it that he labored earnestly for two hours to -awaken something like repentance in the bosom of John Ayliffe, and he -succeeded in the end better than the beginning had promised. When -thoroughly convinced of the moral danger of his situation, John -Ayliffe began to listen more eagerly, to reply more humbly, and to -seek earnestly for some consolation beyond the earth. His depression -and despair, as terrible truths became known to him were just in -proportion to his careless boldness and audacity while he had remained -in wilful ignorance, and as soon as Mr. Dixwell saw that all the -clinging to earthly expectations was gone--that every frail support of -mortal thoughts was taken away, he began to give him gleams of hope -from another world, and had the satisfaction of finding that the -doubts and terrors which remained arose from the consciousness of his -own sins and crimes, the heavy load of which he felt for the first -time. He told him that repentance was never too late--he showed him -that Christ himself had stamped that great truth with a mark that -could not be mistaken in his pardon of the dying thief upon the cross, -and while he exhorted him to examine himself strictly, and to make -sure that what he felt was real repentance, and not the mere fear of -death which so many mistake for it in their last hours, he assured him -that if he could feel certain of that fact, and trust in his Saviour, -he might comfort himself and rest in good hope. That done, he resolved -to leave the young man to himself for a few hours that he might -meditate and try the great question he had propounded with his own -heart. He called in Mistress Best, however, and told her that if -during his absence Sir John wished her to read to him, it would be a -great kindness to read certain passages of Scripture which he pointed -out in the house Bible. The good woman very willingly undertook the -task, and shortly after the clergyman was gone John Ayliffe applied to -hear the words of that book against which he had previously shut his -ears. He found comfort and consolation and guidance therein; for Mr. -Dixwell, who, on the one subject which had been the study of his life -was wise as well as learned, had selected judiciously such passages as -tend to inspire hope without diminishing penitence. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. - - -We must now turn on more to Sir Philip Hastings as he sat in his -lonely room in prison. Books had been allowed him, paper, pen, and -ink, and all that could aid to pass the time; but Sir Philip had -matter for study in his own mind, and the books had remained unopened -for several days. Hour after hour, since his interview with Secretary -Vernon, and day after day he had paced that room to and fro, till the -sound of his incessant footfall was a burthen to those below. His hair -had grown very white, the wrinkles on his brow had deepened and become -many, and his head was bowed as if age had pressed it down. As he -walked, his eye beneath his shaggy eyebrow was generally bent upon the -floor, but when any accidental circumstance caused him to raise it--a -distant sound from without, or some thought passing through his own -mind--there was that curious gleam in it which I have mentioned when -describing him in boyhood, but now heightened and rendered somewhat -more wild and mysterious. At those moments the expression of his eyes -amounted almost to fierceness, and yet there was something grand, and -fixed, and calm about the brow which seemed to contradict the -impatient, irritable look. - -At the moment I now speak of there was an open letter on the table, -written in his daughter's hand, and after having walked up and down -for more than one hour, he sat down as if to answer it. We must look -over his shoulder and see what he writes, as it may in some degree -tend to show the state of his mind, although it was never sent. - -"MY CHILD" (it was so he addressed the dear girl who had once been the -joy of his heart): "The news which has been communicated to you by -Marlow has been communicated also to me, but has given small relief. -The world is a prison, and it is not very satisfactory to leave one -dungeon to go into a larger. - -"Nevertheless, I am desirous of returning to my own house. Your mother -is very ill, with nobody to attend upon her but yourself--at least no -kindred. This situation does not please me. Can I be satisfied that -she will be well and properly cared for? Will a daughter who has -betrayed her father show more piety towards a mother? Who is there -that man can trust?" - -He was going on in the same strain, and his thoughts becoming more -excited, his language more stern and bitter every moment, when -suddenly he paused, read over the lines he had written with a gleaming -eye, and then bent his head, and fell into thought. No one can tell, -no pen can describe the bitter agony of his heart at that moment. Had -he yielded to the impulse--had he spoken ever so vehemently and -fiercely, it would have been happier for him and for all. But men will -see without knowing it in passing through the world, conventional -notions which they adopt as principles. They fancy them original -thoughts, springing from their own convictions, when in reality they -are bents--biases given to their minds by the minds of other men. The -result is very frequently painful, even where the tendency of the -views received is good. Thus a shrub forced out of its natural -direction may take a more graceful or beautiful form, but there is -ever a danger that the flow of the sap may be stopped, or some of the -branches injured by the process. - -"No," said Sir Philip Hastings, at length, with a false sense of -dignity thus acquired, "no, it is beneath me to reproach her. Punish -her I might, and perhaps I ought; for the deed itself is an offence to -society and to human nature more than to me. To punish her would have -been a duty, even if my own heart's blood had flowed at the same time, -in those ancient days of purer laws and higher principles; but I will -not reproach without punishing. I will be silent. I will say nothing. -I will leave her to her own conscience," and tearing the letter he had -commenced to atoms, he resumed his bitter walk about the room. - -It is a terrible and dangerous thing to go on pondering for long -solitary hours on any one subject of deep interest. It is dangerous -even in the open air, under the broad, ever-varying sky, with the -birds upon the bough, and the breeze amongst the trees, and a thousand -objects in bright nature to breathe harmonies to the human heart. It -is dangerous in the midst of crowds and gay scenes of active life so -to shut the spirit up with one solitary idea, which, like the fabled -dragon's egg, is hatched into a monster by long looking at it. But -within the walls of a prison, with nothing to divert the attention, -with nothing to solicit or compel the mind even occasionally to seek -some other course, with no object in external nature, with the -companionship of no fellow being, to appeal to our senses or to awake -our sympathies, the result is almost invariable. An innocent man--a -man who has no one strong passion, or dark, all-absorbing subject of -contemplation, but who seeks for and receives every mode of relief -from the monotony of life that circumstances can afford may endure -perfect solitude for years and live sane, but whoever condemns a -criminal--a man loaded with a great offence--to solitary confinement, -condemns him to insanity--a punishment far more cruel than death or -the rack. Hour after hour again, day after day, Sir Philip Hastings -continued to beat the floor of the prison with untiring feet. At the -end of the third day, however, he received formal notice that he would -be brought into court on the following morning, that the indictment -against him would be read, and that the attorney-general would enter a -_nolle prosequi_. Some of these forms were perhaps unnecessary, but it -was the object of the government at that time to make as strong an -impression on the public mind as possible without any unnecessary -effusion of blood. - -The effect upon the mind of Sir Philip Hastings, however, was not -salutary. The presence of the judges, the crowd in the court, the act -of standing in the prisoners' dock, even the brief speech of the -lawyer commending the lenity and moderation of government, while he -moved the recording of the _nolle prosequi_, all irritated and excited -the prisoner. His irritation was shown in his own peculiar way, -however; a smile, bitter and contemptuous curled his lip. His eye -seemed to search out those who gazed at him most and stare them down, -and when he was at length set at liberty, he turned away from the dock -and walked out of the court without saying a word to any one. The -governor of the jail followed him, asking civilly if he would not -return to his house for a moment, take some refreshment, and arrange -for the removal of his baggage. It seemed as if Sir Philip answered at -all with a great effort; but in the end he replied laconically, "No, I -will send." - -Two hours after he did send, and towards evening set out in a hired -carriage for his own house. He slept a night upon the road, and the -following day reached the Court towards evening. By that time, -however, a strange change had come over him. Pursuing the course of -those thoughts which I have faintly displayed, he had waged war with -his own mind--he had struggled to banish all traces of anger and -indignation from his thoughts--in short, fearing from the sensations -experienced within, that he would do or say something contrary to the -rigid rule he had imposed upon himself, he had striven to lay out a -scheme of conduct which would guard against such a result. The end of -this self-tutoring was satisfactory to him. He had fancied he had -conquered himself, but he was very much mistaken. It was only the -outer man he had subdued, but not the inner. - -When the carriage drew up at his own door, and Sir Philip alighted, -Emily flew out to meet him. She threw her arms around his neck and -kissed his cheek, and her heart beat with joy and affection. - -For an instant Sir Philip remained grave and stern, did not repel her, -but did not return her embrace. The next instant, however, his whole -manner changed. A sort of cunning double-meaning look came into his -eyes. He smiled, which was very unusual with him, assumed a sort of -sportiveness, which was not natural, called her "dainty Mistress -Emily," and asked after the health of "his good wife." - -His coldness and his sternness might not have shocked Emily at all, -but his apparent levity pained and struck her with terror. A cold sort -of shudder passed over her, and unclasping her arms from his neck, she -replied, "I grieve to say mamma is very ill, and although the news of -your safety cheered her much, she has since made no progress, but -rather fallen back." - -"Doubtless the news cheered you too very much, my sweet lady," said -Sir Philip in an affected tone, and without waiting for reply, he -walked on and ascended to his wife's room. - -Emily returned to the drawing-room and fell into one of her profound -fits of meditation; but this time they were all sad and tending to -sadness. There Sir Philip found her when he came down an hour after. -She had not moved, she had not ordered lights, although the sun was -down and the twilight somewhat murky. She did not move when he -entered, but remained with her head leaning on her hand, and her eyes -fixed on the table near which she sat. Sir Philip gazed at her -gloomily, and said to himself, "Her heart smites her. Ha, ha, -beautiful deceitful thing. Have you put the canker worm in your own -bosom? Great crimes deserve great punishments. God of heaven! keep me -from such thoughts. No, no, I will never avenge myself on the plea of -avenging society. My own cause must not mingle with such -vindications." - -"Emily," he said in a loud voice, which startled her suddenly from her -reverie, "Emily, your mother is very ill." - -"Worse? worse?" cried Emily with a look of eager alarm; "I will fly to -her at once. Oh, sir, send for the surgeon." - -"Stay," said Sir Philip, "she is no worse than when you left her, -except insomuch as a dying person becomes much worse every minute. -Your mother wishes much to see Mrs. Hazleton, who has not been with -her for two days, she says. Sit down and write that lady a note asking -her to come here to-morrow, and I will send it by a groom." - -Emily obeyed, though with infinite reluctance; for she had remarked -that the visits of Mrs. Hazleton always left her mother neither -improved in temper nor in health. - -The groom was dispatched, and returned with a reply from Mrs. Hazleton -to the effect that she would be there early on the following day. -During his absence, Sir Philip had been but little with his daughter. -Hardly had the note been written when he retired to his own small -room, and there remained shut up during the greater part of the -evening. Emily quietly stole into her mother's room soon after her -father left her, fearing not a little that Lady Hastings might have -remarked the strange change which had come upon her husband during his -absence. But such was not the case. She found her mother calmer and -gentler than she had been during the last week or ten days. Her -husband's liberation, and the certainty that all charge against him -was at an end, had afforded her great satisfaction; and although she -was still evidently very ill, yet she conversed cheerfully with her -daughter for nearly an hour. - -"As I found you had not told your father the hopes that Mr. Marlow -held out when he went away, I spoke to him on the subject," she said. -"He is a strange cynic, my good husband, and seemed to care very -little about the matter. He doubt's Marlow's success too, I think, but -all that he said was, that if it pleased me, that was enough for him. -Mrs. Hazleton will be delighted to hear the news." - -Emily doubted the fact, but she did not express her doubt, merely -telling her mother she had written to Mrs. Hazleton, and that the -servant had been sent with the note. - -"She has not been over for two days," said Lady Hastings. "I cannot -think what has kept her away." - -"Some accidental circumstance, I dare say," said Emily, "but there can -be no doubt she will be here to-morrow early." - -They neither of them knew that on the preceding night but one Mrs. -Hazleton had received a visit from John Ayliffe, which, -notwithstanding all her self-command and assumed indifference, had -disturbed her greatly. - -Mrs. Hazleton nevertheless was, as Emily anticipated, very early at -the house of Sir Philip Hastings. She first made a point of seeing -that gentleman himself; and though her manner was, as usual, calm and -lady-like, yet every word and every look expressed the greatest -satisfaction at seeing him once more in his home and at liberty. To -Emily also she was all tenderness and sweetness; but Emily, on her -part, shrunk from her with a feeling of dread and suspicion that she -could not repress, and hardly could conceal. She had not indeed read -any of the papers which Marlow had left with her, for he had not told -her to read them; but he had directed her thoughts aright, and had led -her to conclusions in regard to Mrs. Hazleton which were very painful, -but no less just. - -That lady remarked a change in Emily's manner--she had seen something -of it before;--but it now struck her more forcibly, and though she -took no notice of it whatever, it was not a thing to be forgotten or -forgiven; for to those who are engaged in doing ill there cannot be a -greater offence than to be suspected, and Mrs. Hazleton was convinced -that Emily did suspect her. - -After a brief interview with father and daughter, their fair guest -glided quietly up to the room of Lady Hastings, and seated herself by -her bed-side. She took the sick lady's hand in hers--that white, -emaciated hand, once so beautiful and rosy-tipped, and said how -delighted she was to see her looking a great deal better. - -"Do you think so really?" said Lady Hastings; "I feel dreadfully weak -and exhausted, dear Mrs. Hazleton, and sometimes think I shall never -recover." - -"Oh don't say so," replied Mrs. Hazleton; "your husband's return has -evidently done you great good: the chief part of your malady has been -mental. Anxiety of mind is often the cause of severe sickness, which -passes away as soon as it is removed. One great source of uneasiness -is now gone, and the only other that remains--I mean this unfortunate -engagement of dear Emily to Mr. Marlow--may doubtless, with a little -firmness and decision upon your part, be remedied also." - -Mrs. Hazleton was very skillful in forcing the subject with which she -wished to deal, into a conversation to which it had no reference; and -having thus introduced the topic on which she loved to dwell, she went -on to handle it with her usual skill, suggesting every thing that -could irritate the invalid against Marlow, and render the idea of his -marriage with Emily obnoxious in her eyes. - -Even when Lady Hastings, moved by some feelings of gratitude and -satisfaction by the intelligence of Marlow's efforts to recover her -husband's property, communicated the hopes she entertained to her -visitor, Mrs. Hazleton contrived to turn the very expectations to -Marlow's disadvantage, saying, "If such should indeed be the result, -this engagement will be still more unfortunate. With such vast -property as dear Emily will then possess, with her beauty, with her -accomplishments, with her graces, the hand of a prince would be hardly -too much to expect for her; and to see her throw herself away upon a -mere country gentleman--a Mr. Marlow--all very well in his way, but a -nobody, is indeed sad; and I would certainly prevent it, if I were -you, while I had power." - -"But how can I prevent it?" asked Lady Hastings; "my husband and Emily -are both resolute in such things. I have no power, dear Mrs. -Hastings." - -"Yon are mistaken, my sweet friend," replied her companion; "the power -will indeed soon go from you if these hopes which have been held out -do not prove fallacious. You are mistress of this house--of this very -fine property. If I understand rightly, neither your husband nor your -daughter have at present anything but what they derive from you. This -position may soon be altered if your husband be reinstated in the -Hastings estates." - -"But your would not, Mrs. Hazleton, surely you would not have me use -such power ungenerously?" said Lady Hastings. - -Mrs. Hazleton saw that she had gone a little too far--or rather -perhaps that she had suggested that which was repugnant to the -character of her hearer's mind; for in regard to money matters no one -was ever more generous or careless of self than Lady Hastings. -What was her's was her husband's and her child's--she knew no -difference--she made no distinction. - -It took Mrs. Hazleton some time to undo what she had done, but she -found the means at length. She touched the weak point, the failing of -character. A little stratagem, a slight device to win her own way by -an indirect method, was quite within the limits of Lady Hastings' -principles; and after dwelling some time upon a recapitulation of all -the objections against the marriage with Marlow, which could suggest -themselves to an ambitious mind, she quietly and in an easy suggestive -tone, sketched out a plan, which both to herself and her hearer, -seemed certain of success. - -Lady Hastings caught at the plan eagerly, and determined to follow it -in all the details, which will be seen hereafter. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. - - -"I am very ill indeed this morning," said Lady Hastings, addressing -her maid about eleven o'clock. "I feel as if I were dying. Call my -husband and my daughter to me." - -"Lord, my lady," said the maid, "had I not better send for the doctor -too? You do not look as if you were dying at all. You look a good deal -better, I think, my lady." - -"Do I?" said Lady Hastings in a hesitating tone. But she did not want -the doctor to be sent for immediately, and repeated her order to call -her husband and her daughter. - -Emily was with her in an instant, but Sir Philip Hastings was some -where absent in the grounds, and nearly half an hour elapsed before he -was found. When he entered he gazed in his wife's face with some -surprise--more surprise indeed, than alarm; for he knew that she was -nervous and hypondriacal, and as the maid had said, she did not -look as if she were dying at all. There was no sharpening of the -features--no falling in of the temples--none of that pale ashy color, -or rather that leaden grayness, which precedes dissolution. He sat -down, however, by her bedside, gazing at her with an inquiring look, -while Emily stood on the other side of the bed, and the maid at the -end; and after speaking a few kind but somewhat rambling words, he was -sending for some restoratives, saying "I think, my dear, you alarm -yourself without cause." - -"I do not indeed, Philip," replied Lady Hastings. "I am sure I shall -die, and that before very long--but do not send for any thing. I would -rather not take it. It will do me more good a great deal to speak what -I have upon my mind--what is weighing me down--what is killing me." - -"I am sorry to hear there is any thing," said Sir Philip, whose -thoughts, intensely busy with other things, were not yet fully -recalled to the scene before him. - -"Oh, Philip, how can you say so?" said Lady Hastings, "when you know -there is. You need not go," she continued, speaking to the maid who -was drawing back as if to quit the room, "I wish to speak to my -husband and my daughter before some one who will remember what I say." - -Sir Philip however quietly rose, opened the door, and motioned to the -girl to quit the room, for such public exhibitions were quite contrary -to his notions of domestic economy. "Now, my dear," he said, "what is -it you wish to tell me? If there be any thing that you wish done, I -will do it if it is in my power." - -"It is in your power, Philip," replied Lady Hastings; "you know and -Emily knows quite well that her engagement to Mr. Marlow was against -my consent, and I must say the greatest shock I ever received in my -life. I have never been well since, and every day I see more and more -reason to object. It is in the power of either of you, or both, to -relieve my mind in this respect--to break off this unhappy engagement, -and at least to let me die in peace, with the thought that my daughter -has not cast herself away. It is in your power, Philip, to--" - -"Stay a moment," said her husband, "it is not in my power." - -"Why, are you not her father?" asked Lady Hastings, interrupting him. -"Are you not her lawful guardian? Have you not the disposal of her -hand?" - -"It is not in my power," repeated Sir Philip coldly, "to break my -plighted word, to violate my honor, or to live under a load of shame -and dishonor." - -"Why in such a matter as this," said Lady Hastings, "there is no such -disgrace. You can very well say you have thought better of it." - -"In which ease I should tell a lie," said Sir Philip dryly. - -"It is a thing done every day," argued Lady Hastings. - -"I am not a man to do any thing because there are others who do it -every day," answered her husband. "Men lie, and cheat, and swindle, -and steal, and betray their friends, and relations, and parents, but I -can find no reason therein for doing the same. It is not in my power, -I repeat. I cannot be a scoundrel, whatever other men may be, and -violate my plighted word, or withdraw from my most solemn engagements. -Moreover, when Marlow heard of the misfortunes which have befallen us, -and learned that Emily would not have one-fourth part of that which -she had at one time a right to expect, he showed no inclination to -withdraw from his word, even when there was a good excuse, and I will -never withdraw from mine, so help me God." - -Thus speaking he turned his eyes towards the ground again and fell -into a deep reverie. While this conversation had been passing, Emily -had sunk upon her knees, trembling in every limb, and hid her face in -the coverings of the bed. To her, Lady Hastings now turned. Whether it -was that remorse and some degree of shame affected her, when she saw -the terrible agitation of her child, I cannot tell, but she paused for -a moment as if in hesitation. - -She spoke at length, saying "Emily, my child, to you I must appeal, as -your father is so obdurate." - -Emily made no answer, however, but remained weeping, and Lady Hastings -becoming somewhat irritated, went on in a sharper tone. "What! will -not my own child listen to the voice of a dying mother?" she asked -rather petulantly than sorrowfully, although she tried hard to make -her tone gravely reproachful; "will she not pay any attention to her -mother's last request?" - -"Oh, my mother," answered Emily, raising her head, and speaking more -vehemently than was customary with her, "ask me any thing that is -just; ask me any thing that is reasonable; but do not ask me to do -what is wrong and what is unjust. I have made a promise--do not ask me -to break it. There is no circumstance changed which could give even an -excuse for such a breach of faith. Marlow has only shown himself more -true more faithful, more sincere. Should I be more false, more -faithless, more ungenerous than he thought me? Oh no! it is -impossible--quite impossible," and she hid her streaming eyes in the -bedclothes again, clasping her hands tightly together over her -forehead. - -Her father, with his arms crossed upon his chest, had kept his eyes -fixed upon her while she spoke with a look of doubt and inquiry. Well -might he doubt--well might he doubt his own suspicions. There was a -truth, a candor, a straightforwardness, in that glowing face which -gave the contradiction, plain and clear, to every foul, dishonest -charge which had been fabricated against his child. It was impossible -in fact that she could have so spoken and so looked, unless she had so -felt. The best actress that ever lived could not have performed that -part. There would have been something too much or too little. -something approaching the exaggerated or the tame. With Emily there -was nothing. What she said seemed but the sudden outburst of her -heart, pressed for a reply; and as soon as it was spoken she sunk down -again in silence, weeping bitterly under the conflict of two strong -but equally amiable feelings. - -For a moment the sight seemed to rouse Sir Philip Hastings. "She -should not, if she would," he said; "voluntarily, and knowing what she -did, she consented to the promise I have made, and she neither can nor -shall retract. To Marlow, indeed, I may have a few words to say, and -he shall once more have the opportunity of acting as he pleases; but -Emily is bound as well as myself, and by that bond we must abide." - -"What have you to say to Marlow?" asked Lady Hastings in a tone of -commonplace curiosity, which did not at all indicate a sense of that -terrible situation in which she assumed she was placed. - -"That matters not," answered Sir Philip. "It will rest between him and -me at his return. How he may act I know not--what he may think I know -not; but he shall be a partaker of my thoughts and the master of his -own actions. Do not let us pursue this painful subject further. If you -feel yourself ill, my love, let us send for further medical help. I do -hope and believe that you are not so ill as you imagine; but if you -are so there is more need that the physician should be here, and that -we should quit topics too painful for discussion, where discussion is -altogether useless." - -"Well, then, mark me," said Lady Hastings with an air of assumed -melancholy dignity, which being quite unnatural to her, bordered -somewhat on the burlesque; "mark me, Philip--mark me, Emily! your -wife, your mother, makes it her last dying request--her last dying -injunction, that you break off this marriage. You may or you may not -give me the consolation on this sick bed of knowing that my request -will be complied with; but I do not think that either of you will be -careless, will be remorseless enough to carry out this engagement -after I am gone. I will not threaten, Emily--I will not even attempt -to take away from you the wealth for which this young man doubtless -seeks you--I will not attempt to deter you by bequeathing you my curse -if you do not comply with my injunctions; but I tell you, if you do -not make me this promise before I die, you have embittered your -mother's last moments, and--" - -"Oh, forbear, forbear," cried Emily, starting up. "For God's sake, -dear mother, forbear," and clasping her hands wildly over her eyes, -she rushed frantically out of the room. - -Sir Philip Hastings remained for nearly half an hour longer, and then -descended the stairs and passed through the drawing-room. Emily was -seated there with her handkerchief upon her eyes, and her whole frame -heaving from the agonized sobs which rose from her bosom. Sir Philip -paused and gazed at her for a moment or two, but Emily did not say a -word, and seemed indeed totally unconscious of his presence. Some -movements of compassion, some feeling of sympathy, some doubts of his -preconceptions might pass through the bosom of Sir Philip Hastings; -but the dark seeds of suspicion had been sown in his bosom--had -germinated, grown up, and strengthened--had received confirmation -strong and strange, and he murmured to himself as he stood and gazed -at her, "Is it anger or sorrow? Is it passion or pain? All this is -strange enough. I do not understand it. Her resolution is taken, and -taken rightly. Why should she grieve? Why should she be thus moved, -when she knows she is doing that which is just, and honest, and -faithful?" - -He measured a cloud by an ell wand. He gauged her heart, her -sensibilities, her mind, by the rigid metre of his own, and he found -that the one could not comprehend the other. Turning hastily away -after he had finished his contemplation, without proffering one word -of consolation or support, he walked away into his library, and -ringing a bell, ordered his horse to be saddled directly. While that -was being done, he wrote a hasty note to Mr. Short, the surgeon, and -when the horse was brought round gave it to a groom to deliver. Then -mounting on horseback, he rode away at a quick pace, without having -taken any further notice of his daughter. - -Emily remained for about half an hour after his departure, exactly in -the same position in which he had left her. She noticed nothing that -was passing around her; she heard not a horse stop at the door; and -when her own maid entered the room and said,--"Doctor Short has come, -ma'am, and is with my lady. Sir Philip sent Peter for him; but Peter -luckily met him just down beyond the park gates;" Emily hardly seemed -to hear her. - -A few minutes after, Mr. Short descended quietly from the room of Lady -Hastings, and looked into the drawing-room as he passed. Seeing the -beautiful girl seated there in that attitude of despondency, he -approached her quietly, saying, "Do not, my dear mistress Emily, -suffer yourself to be alarmed without cause. I see no reason for the -least apprehension. My good lady, your mother is nervous and excited, -but there are no very dangerous symptoms about her--certainly none -that should cause immediate alarm; and I think upon the whole, that -the disease is more mental than corporeal." - -Emily had raised her eyes when he had just begun to speak, and she -shook her head mournfully at his last words, saying, "I can do nothing -to remedy it, Mr. Short--I would at any personal sacrifice, but this -involves more--I can do nothing." - -"But I have done my best," said Mr. Short with a kindly smile; for he -was an old and confidential friend of the whole family, and upon Emily -herself had attended from her childhood, during all the little -sicknesses of early life. "I asked your excellent mother what had so -much excited her, and she told me all that has passed this morning. I -think, my dear young lady, I have quieted her a good deal." - -"How? how?" exclaimed Emily eagerly. "Oh tell me how, Mr. Short, and I -will bless you!" - -The good old surgeon seated himself beside her and took her hand in -his. "I have only time to speak two words," he said, "but think -they will give you comfort. Your mother explained to me that there -had been a little discussion this morning when she thought herself -dying--though that was all nonsense--and it must have been very -painful to you, my dear Mistress Emily. She told me what it was about -too, and seemed half sorry already for what she had said. So, as I -guessed how matters went--for I know that the dear lady is fond of -titles and rank, and all that, and saw she had a great deal mistaken -Mr. Marlow's position--I just ventured to tell her that he is the heir -of the old Earl of Launceston--that is to say, if the Earl does not -marry again, and he is seventy-three, with a wife still living. She -had never heard any thing about it, and it seemed to comfort her -amazingly. Nevertheless she is in a sad nervous state, and somewhat -weak. I do not altogether like that cough she has either; and so, my -dear young lady, I will send her over a draught to-night, of which you -must give her a tablespoonful every three hours. Give it to her with -your own hands; for it is rather strong, and servants are apt to make -mistakes. But I think if you go to her now, you will find her in a -very different humor from that which she was in this morning. Good -bye, good bye. Don't be cast down, Mistress Emily. All will go well -yet." - - - - -CHAPTER XL. - - -From the house of Sir Philip Hastings Mr. Short rode quickly on to the -cottage of Mistress Best, which he had visited once before in the -morning. The case of John Ayliffe, however, was becoming more and more -urgent every moment, and at each visit the surgeon saw a change in the -countenance of the young man which indicated that a greater change -still was coming. He had had a choice of evils to deal with; for -during the first day after the accident there had been so much fever -that he had feared to give any thing to sustain the young man's -strength. But long indulgence in stimulating liquors had had its usual -effect in weakening the powers of the constitution, and rendering it -liable to give way suddenly even where the corporeal powers seemed at -their height. Wine had become to John Ayliffe what water is to most -men, and he could not bear up without it. Exhaustion had succeeded -rapidly to the temporary excitement of fever, and mortification had -begun to show itself on the injured limb. Wine had become necessary, -and it was administered in frequent and large doses; but as a -stimulant it had lost its effect upon the unhappy young man, and when -the surgeon returned to the cottage on this occasion, he saw not only -that all hope was at an end, but that the end could not be very far -distant. - -Good Mr. Dixwell was seated by John Ayliffe's side, and looked up to -the surgeon with an anxious eye. Mr. Short felt his patient's pulse -with a very grave face. It was rapid, but exceedingly feeble--went on -for twenty or thirty beats as fast as it could go--then stopped -altogether for an instant or two, and then began to beat again as -quickly as before. - -Mr. Short poured out a tumbler full of port wine, raised John Ayliffe -a little, and made him drink it down. After a few minutes he felt his -pulse again, and found it somewhat stronger. The sick man looked -earnestly in his face as if he wished to ask some question; but he -remained silent for several minutes. - -At length he said, "Tell me the truth, Short. Am not I dying?" - -The surgeon hesitated, but Mr. Dixwell raised his eyes, saying, "Tell -him the truth, tell him the truth, my good friend. He is better -prepared to bear it than he was yesterday." - -"I fear you are sinking, Sir John," said the surgeon. - -"I do not feel so much pain in my leg," said the young man. - -"That is because mortification has set in," replied Mr. Short. - -"Then there is no hope," said John Ayliffe. - -The surgeon was silent; and after a moment John Ayliffe said, "God's -will be done." - -Mr. Dixwell pressed his hand kindly with tears in his eyes; for they -were the Christian words he had longed to hear, but hardly hoped for. - -There was a long and somewhat sad pause, and then the dying man once -more turned his look upon the surgeon, asking, "How long do you think -it will be?" - -"Three or four hours," replied Mr. Short. "By stimulants, as long as -you can take them, it may be protracted a little longer, but not -much." - -"Every moment is of consequence," said the clergyman. "There is much -preparation still needful--much to be acknowledged and repented -of--much to be atoned for. What can be done, my good friend to -protract the time?" - -"Give small quantities of wine very frequently," answered the surgeon, -"and perhaps some aqua vitæ--but very little--very little, or you may -hurry the catastrophe." - -"Well, well," said John Ayliffe, "you can come again, but perhaps by -that time I shall be gone. You will find money enough in my pockets, -Short, to pay your bill--there is plenty there, and mind you send the -rest to my mother." - -The surgeon stared, and said to himself, "he is wandering;" but John -Ayliffe immediately added, "Don't let that rascal Shanks have it, but -send it to my mother;" and saying "Very well, Sir John," he took his -leave and departed. - -"And now my dear young friend," said Mr. Dixwell, the moment the -surgeon was gone, "there is no time to be lost. You have the power of -making full atonement for the great offence you have committed to one -of your fellow creatures. If you sincerely repent, as I trust you do, -Christ has made atonement for your offences towards God. But you must -show your penitence by letting your last acts in this life be just and -right. Let me go to Sir Philip Hastings." - -"I would rather see his daughter, or his wife," said John Ayliffe: "he -is so stern, and hard, and gloomy. He will never speak comfort or -forgiveness." - -"You are mistaken--I can assure you, you are mistaken," answered the -clergyman. "I will take upon me to promise that he shall not say one -hard word, and grant you full forgiveness." - -"Well, well," said the young man, "if it must be he, so be it--but -mind to have pen and ink to write it all down--that pen won't write. -You know you tried it this morning." - -"I will bring one with me," said Mr. Dixwell, rising eager to be gone -on his good errand; but John Ayliffe stopped him, saying, "Stay, -stay--remember you are not to tell him any thing about it till he is -quite away from his own house. I don't choose to have all the people -talking of it, and perhaps coming down to stare at me." - -Mr. Dixwell was willing to make any terms in order to have what he -wished accomplished, and giving Mrs. Best directions to let the -patient have some port wine every half hour, he hurried away to the -Court. - -On inquiring for Sir Philip, the servant said that his master had -ridden out. - -"Do you know where he is gone, and how long he will be absent?" asked -Mr. Dixwell. - -"He is gone, I believe, to call at Doctor Juke's, to consult about my -lady," replied the man; "and as that is hard upon twenty miles, he -can't be back for two or three hours." - -"That is most unfortunate," exclaimed the clergyman. "Is your lady -up?" - -The servant replied in the negative, adding the information that she -was very ill. - -"Then I must see Mistress Emily," said Mr. Dixwell, walking into the -house. "Call her to me as quickly as you can." - -The man obeyed, and Emily was with the clergyman in a few moments, -while the servant remained in the hall looking out through the open -door. - -After remaining in conversation with Mr. Dixwell for a few minutes, -Emily hurried back to her room, and came down again dressed for -walking. She and Mr. Dixwell went out together, and the servant saw -them take their way down the road in the direction of Jenny Best's -cottage: but when they had gone a couple of hundred yards, the -clergyman turned off towards his own house, walking at a very quick -pace, while Emily proceeded slowly on her way. - -When at a short distance from the cottage, the beautiful girl stopped, -and waited till she was rejoined by Mr. Dixwell, who came up very -soon, out of breath at the quickness of his pace. "I have ordered the -wine down directly," he said, "and I trust we shall be able to keep -him up till he has told his story his own way. Now, my dear young -lady, follow me;" and walking on he entered the cottage. - -Emily was a good deal agitated. Every memory connected with John -Ayliffe was painful to her. It seemed as if nothing but misfortune, -sorrow, and anxiety, had attended her ever since she first saw him, -and all connected themselves more or less with him. The strange sort -of mysterious feeling of sympathy which she had experienced when first -she beheld him, and which had seemed explained to her when she learned -their near relationship, had given place day by day to stronger and -stronger personal dislike, and she could not now even come to visit -him on his death-bed with the clergyman without feeling a mixture of -repugnance and dread which she struggled with not very successfully. - -They passed, however, through the outer into the inner room where -Mistress Best was sitting with the dying man, reading to him the New -Testament. But as soon as Mr. Dixwell, who had led the way, entered, -the good woman stopped, and John Ayliffe turned his head faintly -towards the door. - -"Ah, this is very kind of you," he said when he saw Emily, "I can tell -you all better than any one else." - -"Sir Philip is absent," said Mr. Dixwell, "and will not be home for -several hours." - -"Hours!" repeated John Ayliffe. "My time is reduced to minutes!" - -Emily approached quietly, and Mrs. Best quitted the room and shut the -door. Mr. Dixwell drew the table nearer to the bed, spread some -writing paper which he had brought with him upon it, and dipped a pen -in the ink, as a hint that no time was to be lost in proceeding. - -"Well, well," said John Ayliffe with a sigh, "I won't delay, though it -is very hard to have to tell such a story. Mistress Emily, I have done -you and your family great wrong and great harm, and I am very, very -sorry for it, especially for what I have done against you." - -"Then I forgive you from all my heart," cried Emily, who had been -inexpressibly shocked at the terrible change which the young man's -appearance presented. She had never seen death, nor was aware of the -terrible shadow which the dark banner of the great Conqueror often -casts before it. - -"Thank you, thank you," replied John Ayliffe; "but you must not -suppose, Mistress Emily, that all the evil I have done was out of my -own head. Others prompted me to a great deal; although I was ready -enough to follow their guidance, I must confess. The two principal -persons were Shanks the lawyer, and Mrs. Hazleton--Oh, that woman is, -I believe, the devil incarnate." - -"Hush, hush," said Mr. Dixwell, "I cannot put such words as those -down, nor should you speak them. You had better begin in order too, -and tell all from the commencement, but calmly and in a Christian -spirit, remembering that this is your own confession, and not an -accusation of others." - -"Well, I will try," said the young man faintly, lifting his hand from -the bed-clothes, as if to put it to his head in the act of thought. -But he was too weak, and he fell back again, and fixing his eyes on a -spot in the wall opposite the foot of the bed, he continued in a sort -of dreamy commemorative way as follows: "I loved you--yes, I loved you -very much--I feel it now more than ever--I loved you more than you -ever knew--more than I myself knew then. (Emily bent her head and hid -her eyes with her hands.) It was not," he proceeded to say, "that you -were more beautiful than any of the rest--although that was true -too--but there was somehow a look about you, an air when you moved, a -manner when you spoke, that made it seem as if you were of a different -race from the rest--something higher, brighter, better, and as if your -nobler nature shone out like a gleam on all you did--I cannot help -thinking that if you could have loved me in return, mine would have -been a different fate, a different end, a different and brighter hope -even now--" - -"You are wandering from the subject, my friend," said Mr. Dixwell. -"Time is short." - -"I am not altogether wandering," said John Ayliffe, "but feel faint. -Give me some more wine." When he had got it, he continued thus: "I -found you could not love me--I said in my heart that you would not -love me; and my love turned into hate--at least I thought so--and I -determined you should rue the day that you had refused me. Long before -that, however, Shanks the lawyer had put it into my head that I could -take your father's property and title from him, and I resolved some -day to try, little knowing all that it would lead me into step by -step. I had heard my mother say a hundred times that she had been as -good as married to your uncle who was drowned, and that if right had -been done I ought to have had the property. So I set to work with -Shanks to see what could be done. Sometimes he led, sometimes I led; -for he was a coward, and wanted to do all by cunning, and I was bold -enough, and thought every thing was to be done by daring. We had both -of us got dipped so deep in there was no going back. I tore one leaf -out of the parish register myself, to make it seem that your -grandfather had caused the record of my mother's marriage to be -destroyed--but that was no marriage at all--they never were, -married--and that's the truth. I did a great number of other very evil -things, and then suddenly Mrs. Hazleton came in to help us; and -whenever there was any thing particularly shrewd and keen to be -devised, especially if there was a spice of malice in it towards Sir -Philip or yourself, Mrs. Hazleton planned it for us--not telling us -exactly to do this thing of that, but asking if it could not be done, -or if it would be very wrong to do it. But I'll tell you them all in -order--all that we did." - -He went on to relate a great many particulars with which the reader is -already acquainted. He told the whole villanous schemes which had been -concocted between himself, the attorney, and Mrs. Hazleton, and which -had been in part, or as a whole, executed to the ruin of Sir Philip -Hastings' fortune and peace. The good clergyman took down his words -with a rapid hand, as he spoke, though it was somewhat difficult; for -the voice became more and more faint and low. - -"There is no use in trying now," said John Ayliffe in conclusion, -"when I am going before God who has seen and known it all. There is no -use in trying to conceal any thing. I was as ready to do evil as they -were to prompt me, and I did it with a willing heart, though sometimes -I was a little frightened at what I was doing, especially in the night -when I could not sleep. I am sorry enough for it now--I repent from my -whole heart; and now tell me--tell me, can you forgive me?" - -"As far as I am concerned, I forgive you entirely," said Emily, with -the tears in her eyes, "and I trust that your repentance will be fully -accepted. As to my father, I am sure that he will forgive you also, -and I think I may take upon myself to say, that he will either come or -send to you this night to express his forgiveness." - -"No, no, no," said the young man with a great effort. "He must not -come--he must not send. I have made the atonement that he (pointing to -Mr. Dixwell) required, and I have but one favor to ask. Pray, pray -grant it to me. It is but this. That you will not tell any one of this -confession so long as I am still living. He has got it all down. It -can't be needed for a few hours, and in a few, a very few, I shall be -gone. Mr. Dixwell will tell you when it is all over. Then tell what -you like; but I would rather not die with more shame upon my head if I -can help it." - -The good clergyman was about to reason with him upon the differences -between healthful shame, and real shame, and false shame, but Emily -gently interposed, saying, "It does not matter, my dear sir; a few -hours can make no difference." - -Then rising, she once more repeated the words of forgiveness, and -added, "I will now go and pray for you, my poor cousin--I will pray -that your repentance may be sincere and true--that it may be accepted -for Christ's sake, and that God may comfort you and support you even -at the very last." - -Mr. Dixwell rose too, and telling John Ayliffe that he would return in -a few minutes, accompanied Emily back towards her house. They parted, -however, at the gates of the garden; and while Emily threaded her way -through innumerable gravelled walks, the clergyman went back to the -cottage, and once more resumed his place by the side of the dying man. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. - - -Sir Philip Hastings returned to his own house earlier than had been -expected, bringing with him the physician he had gone to seek, and -whom--contrary to the ordinary course of events--he had found at once. -They both went up to Lady Hastings's room, where the physician, -according to the usual practice of medical men in consultation, -approved of all that his predecessor had done, yet ordered some -insignificant changes in the medicines in order to prove that he had -not come there for nothing. He took the same view of the case that Mr. -Short had taken, declaring that there was no immediate danger; but at -the same time he inquired particularly how that lady rested in the -night, whether she started in her sleep, was long watchful, and -whether she breathed freely during slumber. - -The maid's account was not very distinct in regard to several of these -points; but she acknowledged that it was her young lady who usually -sat up with Lady Hastings till three or four o'clock in the morning. - -Sir Philip immediately directed Emily to be summoned, but the maid -informed him she had gone out about an hour and a half before, and had -not then returned. - -When the physician took his leave and departed, Sir Philip summoned -the butler to his presence, and inquired, with an eager yet gloomy -tone, if he knew where Mistress Emily had gone. - -"I really do not, Sir Philip," replied the man. "She went out with Mr. -Dixwell, but they parted a little way down the road, and my young lady -went on as if she were going to farmer Wallop's or Jenny Best's." - -At the latter name Sir Philip started as if a serpent had stung him, -and he waved to the man to quit the room. As soon as he was alone he -commenced pacing up and down in more agitation than he usually -displayed, and once or twice words broke from him which gave some -indications of what was passing in his mind. - -"Too clear, too clear," lie said, and then after a pause exclaimed, -holding up his hands; "so young, and so deceitful! Marlow must be told -of this, and then must act as he thinks fit--it were better she were -dead--far better! What is the cold, dull corruption of the grave, the -mere rotting of the flesh, and the mouldering of the bones, to this -corruption of the spirit, this foul dissolution of the whole moral -nature?" - -He then began to pace up and down more vehemently than before, fixing -his eyes upon the ground, and seeming to think profoundly, with a -quivering lip and knitted brow. "Hard, hard task for a father," he -said--"God of heaven that I should ever dream of such a thing!--yet it -might be a duty. What can Marlow be doing during this long unexplained -absence? France--can he have discovered all this and quitted her, -seeking, in charity, to make the breach as little painful as possible? -Perhaps, after all," he continued, after a few moments' thought, "the -man may have been mistaken when he told me that he believed that this -young scoundrel was lying ill of a fall at this woman's cottage; yet -at the best it was bad enough to quit a sick mother's bedside for long -hours, when I too was absent. Can she have done it to show her spleen -at this foolish opposition to her marriage?" - -There is no character so difficult to deal with--there is none which -is such a constant hell to its possessor--as that of a moody man. Sir -Philip had been moody, as I have endeavored to show, from his very -earliest years; but all the evils of that sort of disposition had -increased upon him rapidly during the latter part of his life. -Unaware, like all the rest of mankind, of the faults of his own -character, he had rather encouraged than struggled against its many -great defects. Because he was stern and harsh, he fancied himself -just, and forgot that it is not enough for justice to judge rightly of -that which is placed clearly and truly before it, and did not -remember, or at all events apply the principle, that an accurate -search for truth, and an unprejudiced suspension of opinion till truth -has been obtained, are necessary steps to justice. Suspicion--always a -part and parcel of the character of the moody man--had of late years -obtained a strong hold upon him, and unfortunately it had so happened -that event after event had occurred to turn his suspicion against his -own guiltless child. The very lights and shades of her character, -which he could in no degree comprehend, from his own nature being -destitute of all such impulsiveness, had not only puzzled him, but -laid the foundation of doubts. Then the little incident which I have -related in a preceding part of this work, regarding the Italian -singing-master--Emily's resolute but unexplained determination to take -no more lessons from that man, had set his moody mind to ponder and to -doubt still more. The too successful schemes and suggestions of Mrs. -Hazleton had given point and vigor to his suspicions, and the betrayal -of his private conversation to the government had seemed a climax to -the whole, so that he almost believed his fair sweet child a fiend -concealed beneath the form of an angel. - -It was in vain that he asked himself, What could be her motives? He -had an answer ready, that her motives had always been a mystery to -him, even in her lightest acts. "There are some people," he thought, -"who act without motives--in whom the devil himself seems to have -implanted an impulse to do evil without any cause or object, for the -mere pleasure of doing wrong." - -On the present occasion he had accidentally heard from the farmer, who -was the next neighbor of Jenny Best, that he was quite certain Sir -John Hastings, as he called him, was lying ill from a fall at that -good woman's cottage. His horse had been found at a great distance on -a wild common, with the bridle broken, and every appearance of having -fallen over in rearing. Blood and other marks of an accident had been -discovered on the road. Mr. Short, the surgeon, was seen to pay -several visits every day to the old woman's house, and yet maintained -the most profound secrecy in regard to his patient. The farmer argued -that the surgeon would not be so attentive unless that patient was a -person of some importance, and it was clear he was not one of Jenny -Best's own family, for every member of it had been well and active -after the surgeon's visits had been commenced. - -All these considerations, together with the absence of John Ayliffe -from his residence, had led the good farmer to a right conclusion, and -he had stated the fact broadly to Sir Philip Hastings. - -Sir Philip, on his part, had made no particular inquiries, for the -very name of John Ayliffe was hateful to him; but when he heard that -his daughter had gone forth alone to that very cottage, and had -remained there for a considerable time in the same place with the man -whom he abhorred, and remembered that the tale which had been boldly -put forth of her having visited him in secret, the very blood, as it -flowed through his heart, seemed turned into fire, and his brain -reeled with anguish and indignation. - -Presently the hall door was heard to open, and there was a light step -in the passage. Sir Philip darted forth from his room, and met his -daughter coming in with a sad and anxious face, and as he thought with -traces of tears upon her eyelids. - -"Where have you been?" asked her father in a stern low tone. - -"I have been to Jenny Best's down the lane, my father," replied Emily, -startled by his look and manner, but still speaking the plain truth, -as she always did. "Is my mother worse?" - -Without a word of reply Sir Philip turned away into his room again and -closed the door. - -Alarmed by her father's demeanor, Emily hurried up at once to Lady -Hastings's room, but found her certainly more cheerful and apparently -better. - -The assurance given by the physician that there was no immediate -danger, nor any very unfavorable symptom, had been in a certain degree -a relief to Lady Hastings herself; for, although she had undoubtedly -been acting a part when in the morning she had declared herself dying, -yet, as very often happens with those who deceive, she had so far -partially deceived herself as to believe that she was in reality very -ill. She was surprised at Emily's sudden appearance and alarmed look, -but her daughter did not think it right to tell her the strange -demeanor of Sir Philip, but sitting down as calmly ass he could by her -mother's side, talked to her for several minutes on indifferent -subjects. It was evident to Emily that, although her father's tone was -so harsh, her mother viewed her more kindly than in the morning, and -the information which had been given her by the surgeon accounted for -the change. The conduct of Sir Philip, however, seemed not to be -explained, and Emily could hardly prevent herself from falling into -one of those reveries which have often been mentioned before. She -struggled against the tendency, however, for some time, till at length -she was relieved by the announcement that Mistress Hazleton was below, -but when Lady Hastings gave her maid directions to bring her friend -up, Emily could refrain no longer from uttering at least one word of -warning. - -"Give me two minutes more, dear mamma," she said, in a low voice. "I -have something very particular to say to you--let Mrs. Hazleton wait -but for two minutes." - -"Well," said Lady Hastings, languidly; and then turning to the maid -she added, "Tell dear Mrs. Hazleton that I will receive her in five -minutes, and when I ring my bell, bring her up." - -As soon as the maid had retired Emily sank upon her knees by her -mother's bedside, and kissed her hand, saying, "I have one great favor -to ask, dear mother, and I beseech you to grant it." - -"Well, my child," answered Lady Hastings, thinking she was going to -petition for a recall of her injunction against the marriage with -Marlow, "I have but one object in life, my dear Emily, and that is -your happiness. I am willing to make any sacrifice of personal -feelings for that object. What is it you desire?" - -"It is merely this," replied Emily, "that you would not put any trust -or confidence whatever in Mrs. Hazleton. That you would doubt her -representations, and confide nothing to her, for a short time at -least." - -Lady Hastings looked perfectly aghast "What do you mean, Emily?" she -said. "What can you mean? Put no trust in Mrs. Hazleton my oldest and -dearest friend?" - -"She is not your friend," replied Emily, earnestly, "nor my friend, -nor my father's friend, but the enemy of every one in this house. I -have long had doubts--Marlow changed those doubts into suspicions, and -this day I have accidentally received proof positive of her cruel -machinations against my father, yourself, and me. This justifies me in -speaking as I now do, otherwise I should have remained silent still." - -"But explain, explain, my child," said Lady Hastings. "What has she -done? What are these proofs you talk of? I cannot comprehend at all -unless you explain." - -"There would be no time, even if I were not bound by a promise," -replied Emily; "but all I ask is that you suspend all trust and -confidence in Mrs. Hazleton for one short day--perhaps it may be -sooner; but I promise you that at the end of that time, if not before, -good Mr. Dixwell shall explain every thing to you, and place in your -hands a paper which will render all Mrs. Hazleton's conduct for the -last two years perfectly clear and distinct." - -"But do tell me something, at least, Emily," urged her mother. "I hate -to wait in suspense. You used to be very fond of Mrs. Hazleton and she -of you. When did these suspicions of her first begin, and how?" - -"Do you not remember a visit I made to her some time ago," replied -Emily, "when I remained with her for several days? Then I first -learned to doubt her. She then plotted and contrived to induce me to -do what would have been the most repugnant to your feelings and my -father's, as well as to my own. But moreover she came into my room one -night walking in her sleep, and all her bitter hatred showed itself -then." - -"Good gracious! What did she say? What did she do?" exclaimed Lady -Hastings, now thoroughly forgetting herself in the curiosity Emily's -words excited. - -Her daughter related all that had occurred on the occasion of Mrs. -Hazleton's sleeping visit to her room, and repeated her words as -nearly as she could recollect them. - -"But why, my dearest child, did you not tell us all this before?" -asked Lady Hastings. - -"Because the words were spoken in sleep," answered Emily, "and excited -at the time but a vague doubt. Sleep is full of delusions; and though -I thought the dream must be a strange one which could prompt such -feelings, yet still it might all be a troublous dream. It was not till -afterwards, when I saw cause to believe that Mrs. Hazleton wished to -influence me in a way which I thought wrong, that I began to suspect -the words that had come unconsciously from the depths of her secret -heart. Since then suspicion has increased every day, and now has -ripened into certainty. I tell you, dear mother, that good Mr. -Dixwell, whom you know and can trust, has the information as well as -myself. But we are both bound to be silent as to the particulars for -some hours more. I could not let Mrs. Hazleton be with you again, -however--remembering, as I do, that seldom has she crossed this -threshold or we crossed hers, without some evil befalling us--and not -say as much as I have said, to give you the only hint in my power of -facts which, if you knew them fully, you could judge of much -better than myself. Believe me, dear mother, that as soon as I am -permitted--and a very few hours will set me free--I will fly at once -to tell you all, and leave you and my father to decide and act as your -own good judgment shall direct." - -"You had better tell me first, Emily," replied Lady Hastings; "a woman -can always best understand the secrets of a woman's heart. I wish you -had not made any promise of secrecy; but as you have, so it must be. -Has Marlow had any share in this discovery?" she added, with some -slight jealousy of his influence over her daughter's mind. - -"Not in the least with that which I have made to-day," replied Emily; -"but I need not at all conceal from you that he has long suspected -Mrs. Hazleton of evil feelings and evil acts towards our whole family; -and that he believes that he has discovered almost to a certainty that -Mrs. Hazleton aided greatly in all the wrong and injury that has been -done my father. The object of his going to France was solely to trace -out the whole threads of the intrigue, and he went, not doubting in -the least that he should succeed in restoring to my parents all that -has been unjustly taken from them. That such a restoration must take -place, I now know; but what he has learned or what he has done I -cannot tell you, for I am not aware. I am sure, however, that if he -brings all he hopes about, it will be his greatest joy to have aided -to right you even in a small degree." - -"I do believe he is a very excellent and amiable young man," said Lady -Hastings thoughtfully. - -She seemed as if she were on the point of saying something farther on -the subject of Marlow's merits; but then checked herself, and added, -"But now indeed, Emily, I think I ought to send for Mrs. Hazleton." - -"But you promise me, dear mother," urged Emily eagerly, "that you will -put no faith in any thing she tells you, and will not confide in her -in any way till you have heard the whole?" - -"That I certainly will take care to avoid, my dear," replied Lady -Hastings. "After what you have told me, it would be madness to put any -confidence in her--especially when a few short hours will reveal all. -You are sure, Emily, that it will not be longer!" - -"Perfectly certain, my dear mother," answered her daughter. "I would -not have promised to refrain from speaking, had I not been certain -that the time for such painful concealment must be very short." - -"Well, then, my dear child, ring the bell," said Lady Hastings. "I -will be very guarded merely on your assurances, for I any sure that -you are always candid and sincere whatever your poor father may -think." - -Emily rung the bell, and retired to her own room, repeating mournfully -to herself, "whatever my poor father may think?--Well, well," she -added, "the time will soon come when he will be undeceived, and do his -child justice. Alas, that it should ever have been otherwise!" - -She found relief in tears; and while she wept in solitude Lady -Hastings prepared to receive Mrs. Hazleton with cold dignity. She had -fully resolved, when Emily left her, to be as silent as possible in -regard to every thing that had occurred that day; not to allude, -directly or indirectly, to the warning which had been given her, and -to leave Mrs. Hazleton to attribute her unwonted reserve to caprice, -or any thing else she pleased. But the resolutions of Lady Hastings -were very fragile commodities when she fell into the hands of artful -people who knew her character, and one was then approaching not easily -frustrated in her designs. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. - - -Mrs. Hazleton was an observer of all small particulars. She never -seemed to give them any attention indeed, but it is not those who -notice them publicly who pay most attention to them in private. Now -she had never in her life been detained five minutes when she had come -to visit Lady Hastings. Her friend was always only too glad to see -her. On the present occasion, she had been kept alone for fully -ten-minutes in the drawing-room, and she was not at all pleased with -this want of alacrity. Her face was as smooth, as gentle, and as -smiling when she entered the sick lady's bed-room, as if she had been -full of affection and tender consideration; and before she had reached -the bed-side, Lady Hastings felt that it would be a somewhat difficult -task to play the cold and reserved part she had imposed upon herself. -She resolved, doggedly, however, to act it out; and as Mrs. Hazleton -approached, she continued looking at her fair delicate hands, or at -the rings--now somewhat too large for the fingers they encircled. - -All this was a hint, if not distinct intelligence, to Mrs. Hazleton. -She saw that a change of feeling, or at least a change of purpose, had -taken place, and that Lady Hastings felt embarrassed by a -consciousness which she might or might not choose to communicate. Mrs. -Hazleton remained the same, however, and rather enjoyed the hesitation -which she perceived than otherwise. She was not without that proud -satisfaction which persons of superior mind feel, in witnessing the -effects upon weak people of causes which would not give them a -moment's trouble. Difficulties and complexities she had been so much -accustomed to overcome and to unravel, that she had learned to feel a -certain triumphant joy in encountering them. That joy, indeed, would -have been changed to despair or rage if she had ever dreamed of being -frustrated; but success had made her bold, and she loved to steer her -course through agitated waters. - -"Well, my dear friend," she said, with the sweet tones of her voice -falling from her lips like drops d liquid honey, "You do not seem -quite so well to-day. I hope this business which you were to undertake -has not agitated you, or perhaps you have not executed your intention; -it could be very well put off till you are better." - -This was intended to lead to confession; for from a knowledge of Lady -Hastings' character, a strong suspicion arose that she had not found -courage to carry through the little drama which had been planned -between them, and that she was now ashamed to confess her want of -resolution. - -Lady Hastings remained silent, playing with her rings, and Mrs. -Hazleton, a little angry--but very little--gave her one of those -delightful little scratches which she was practised in administering, -saying, "No one knew any thing about your intentions but myself, so, -no one can accuse you of weakness or vacillation." - -"I care very little," said Lady Hastings (most untruly) "of what -people accuse me. I shall of course form my own resolutions from what -I know, and execute them or not, dear Mrs. Hazleton, according to -circumstances, which are ever changing. What is inexpedient one day -may be quite expedient the next." - -Now no one was more fully aware than Mrs. Hazleton that expediency is -always the argument of weak minds, and that changing circumstances -afford every day fair excuses to men and to multitudes for every kind -of weakness under the sun. Her belief was strengthened, that Lady -Hastings had not acted as she had promised to act, and she replied -with an easy, quiet, half-pitying smile, "Well, it is not of the -slightest consequence whether you do it now or a week hence, or not at -all. The worst that could come would be Emily's marriage with Marlow, -and if you do not care about it, who should? I take it for granted, of -course, that you have not acted in the matter so boldly and decidedly -as we proposed." - -There was an implied superiority in Mrs. Hazleton's words and manner, -which Lady Hastings did not like. It roused and elevated her, and she -replied somewhat sharply, "You are quite mistaken, my dear friend. I -did all that was ever intended; I sent for Emily and my husband, told -them that I believed I should not live long, and made it my last -request that the engagement with Marlow should be broken off." - -"Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton, with even too much eagerness; "What -did they say? Did they consent?" - -"Far from it," answered Lady Hastings. "My husband said he had made a -promise, which he would not violate on any account or consideration -whatever, and Emily was much in the same story." - -"That shows that your decision was not strongly enough expressed," -replied her visitor. "I do not believe that any man or woman could be -heartless enough to refuse a wife or mother's last request, if made in -so solemn a manner." - -"They did refuse, point-blank, however," said Lady Hastings. "But do -you know, Mrs. Hazleton," she continued, seeing a provokingly bitter -smile on Mrs. Hazleton's face, "do you know, strange to say, I am very -glad they did refuse. Upon after consideration, when all anger and -irritation was gone, I began to think it was hardly right or fair, or -Christian either, to oppose this marriage so strongly, without some -better reason than I have to assign. Marlow is a gentleman in all -respects, of very good family too, I believe. He is a good and -excellent young man. His fortune, too, is not inconsiderable, his -prospects good, and his conduct under the deprivations which we have -lately suffered, and the loss of at least two-thirds of the fortune he -had a right to expect with Emily, has been all that is kind, and -amiable, and generous." - -Mrs. Hazleton sat by the bedside, fixing her eyes full upon the -countenance of the invalid, and betraying not in the least the rage -and disappointment that were at her heart. They were not a whit the -less bitter, however, or fierce, or malignant; but rather the more so -from the effort to smother them. No one for a moment could have -imagined that she was angry, even in the least degree; and yet no -disappointed demon ever felt greater fury at being frustrated by the -weakness or vacillation of a tool. - -After staying for a moment to take breath, Lady Hastings proceeded, -saying, "All these considerations, dear Mrs. Hazleton, have made me -resolve to make amends for what I have said--to withdraw the -opposition I have hitherto shown--and consent to the marriage." - -Mrs. Hazleton retired for a moment into herself. For a minute or two -she was as silent as death--her cheek grew a little paler--her eyes -lost their lustre, and became dead and cold--they seemed looking at -nothing, seeing nothing--there was no speculation in them. The only -thing that indicated life and emotion was a slight quivering of the -beautifully-chiselled lip. There was a word echoing in the dark -chambers of her heart in replying to Lady Hastings. It was "Never!" -but it was not spoken; and after a short and thoughtful pause she -recovered herself fully, and set about her work again. - -"My dear friend," she said, in a sweet tone, "you have doubtless good -reasons for what you do. Far be it from me to say one word against -your doing what you think fit; only I should like to know what has -made such a change in your views, because I think perhaps you may be -deceived." - -"Oh, no, I am not deceived," replied Lady Hastings, "but really I -cannot enter into explanations. I have heard a great deal lately about -many things--especially this morning; but I--I--in fact, I promised -not to tell you." - -Lady Hastings thought that in making this distinct declaration she was -performing a very magnanimous feat; but her little speech, short as it -was, contained three separate clauses or propositions, with each of -which Mrs. Hazleton proposed to deal separately. First, she asserted -that she was not deceived, and to this her companion replied, with a -slight incredulous smile, "Are you quite sure, my friend? Here you are -lying on a bed of sickness, with no power of obtaining accurate -information; while those who are combined to win you to their wishes -have every opportunity of conveying hints to you, both directly and -indirectly, which may not be altogether false, but yet bear with them -a false impression." - -"Oh, but there can be no possible doubt," said Lady Hastings, "that -Marlow is the heir of the Earl of Launceston." - -Mrs. Hazleton's brow contracted, and a quick flush passed over her -cheek. She had never before given attention to the fact--she had never -thought of it at all--but the moment it was mentioned, her knowledge -of the families of the nobility, and Mr. Marlow's connections, showed -her that the assertion was probably true. "It may be so," she said, -"but I am very doubtful. However, I will inquire, and let you know the -truth, to-morrow. And now, my dear friend, let us turn to something -else. You say you have heard a great deal to-day, and that you have -promised not to tell _me_--me--for you marked that word particularly. -Now here I have a right to demand some explanation; for your very -words show that some person or persons endeavor to prejudice your mind -against me. What you have heard must be some false charge. Otherwise -the one who has been your friend for years, who has been faithful, -constant, attentive, kind, to the utmost limit of her poor abilities, -would not be selected for exclusion from your confidence. They seek, -in fact, by some false rumor, or ridiculous tale, which you have not -the means of investigating yourself, to deprive you of advice and -support. I charge no one in particular; but some one has done this--if -they had nothing to fear from frankness, they would not inculcate a -want of candor towards one who loves you, as they well know." - -"Why the fact is Emily said," replied Lady Hastings, "that could only -be for a short time, and----" - -"Emily!" cried Mrs. Hazleton with a laugh, "Emily indeed! Oh, then the -matter is easily understood--but pray what did Emily say? Dear Emily, -she is a charming girl--rather wayward--rather wilful--not always -quite so candid to her friends as I could wish; but these are all -thoughts which will pass away with more knowledge of the world. She -will learn to discriminate between true friends and false ones--to -trust and confide entirely and without hesitation in those who really -love her, and not to repose her confidence in the dark and -mysterious.--Now I will undertake to say that Emily has thrown out -hints and inuendoes, without giving you very clear and explicit -information. She has asked you to wait patiently for a time. It is -always the dear child's way; but I did not think she would practice it -upon her own mother." - -Now most people would have imagined, as Lady Hastings did imagine, -that Mrs. Hazleton's words proceeded from spite--mere spite; but such -was not the case: it was all art. She sought to pique Lady Hastings, -knowing very well that when once heated or angry, she lost all -caution; and her great object at that moment was to ascertain what -Emily knew, and what Emily had said. She was successful to a certain -degree. She did pique Lady Hastings, who replied at once, and somewhat -sharply, though with the ordinary forms of courtesy. "I do not think -you altogether do Emily justice, dear Mrs. Hazleton, although you have -in some degree divined the course she has pursued. She did not exactly -throw out inuendoes; but she made bold and distinct charges, and -though she did not proceed to the proofs, because there was no time to -do so, and also because there were particular reasons for not doing -so, yet she promised within a very few hours to establish every -assertion that she made beyond the possibility of doubt. - -"I thought so," said Mrs. Hazleton, in a somewhat abstracted tone, -casting her eyes round the room and taking up, apparently unconcerned, -the vial of medicine which stood by Lady Hastings' bedside. "Pray, my -dear friend, when the revelation is made--if it ever be made--inform -me of the particulars." - -"If it ever be made," exclaimed Lady Hastings. "No revelation needs to -be made, Mrs. Hazleton--nothing is wanting but the proofs. Emily was -explicit enough as to the facts. She said that you had aided and -assisted in depriving my husband of his property, that in that and -many other particulars you had acted any thing but a friendly part, -that you were moved by a spirit of hatred against us all, and that -very seldom had there been any communications between our house and -yours without some evil following it--which is true enough." - -She spoke with a good deal of vehemence, and raised herself somewhat -on her elbow, as if to utter her words more freely. In the mean while -Mrs. Hazleton sat silent and calm--as far as the exterior went at -least--with her eyes fixed upon a particular spot in the quilt from -which they never moved till Lady Hastings had done. - -"Grave charges," she said at length, "very grave charges to bring -against one whom she has known from her infancy, and for whom she has -professed some regard--but no less false than grave, my dear friend. -Now either one of two things has happened: the first, which I mention -merely as a possibility, but without at all believing that such is the -case--the first is, I say, that Emily, judging your opposition to her -proposed unequal marriage to be abetted by myself, has devised these -charges out of her own head, in order to withdraw your confidence from -me and gain her own objects: the second is--and this is much more -likely--that she has been informed by some one, either maliciously or -mistakenly, of some suspicions and doubts such as are always more or -less current in a country place, and has perhaps embellished them a -little in their transmission to you.--The latter is certainly the most -probable.--I suppose she did not tell you from whom she received the -information." - -"Not exactly," answered Lady Hastings, "but one thing I know, which -is, that Mr. Dixwell the rector has all the same information, and if I -understood her rightly, has got it down in writing." - -Mrs. Hazleton's cheek grew a shade paler; but she answered at once "I -am glad to hear that; for now we come to something definite. All these -charges must be substantiated, dear friend--that is, if they can be -substantiated--" she added with a smile. - -"You can easily understand that, attached to you by the bonds of a -long friendship, I cannot suffer my name to be traduced, or my conduct -impeached, even by your own daughter, without insisting upon a full -explanation, and clear, satisfactory proofs, or a recantation of the -charges. Emily must establish what she has said, if she can.--I am in -no haste about it; it may be to-morrow, or the next day, or the day -after--whenever it suits you and her in short; but it must be done. -Conscious that I am innocent of such great offences, I can wait -patiently; and I do not think, my dear friend, that although I see you -have been a little startled by these strange tales, you will give any -credence to them in your heart till they are proved. Dear Emily is -evidently very much in love with Mr. Marlow, and is anxious to remove -all opposition to her marriage with him. But I think she must take -some other means; for these will certainly break down beneath her." - -She spoke so calmly, and in so quiet and gentle a tone--her whole look -and manner was so tranquilly confident--that lady Hastings could -hardly believe that she was in any degree guilty. - -"Well, I cannot tell," she said, "how this may turn out, but I do not -think her marriage with Mr. Marlow can have any thing to do with it. I -have fully and entirely resolved to cease all opposition to her union; -on which I see my daughter's happiness is staked, and I shall -certainly immediately signify my consent both to Emily and to my -husband." - -"Wait a little--wait a little" said Mrs. Hazleton with a significant -nod of the head. "I have no mysteries, my dear friend. I have nothing -to conceal or to hold back. You are going, however, to act upon -information which is very doubtful. I believe that you have been -deceived, whoever has told you that Mr. Marlow is the heir to the Earl -of Launceston, and it is but an act of friendship on my part to -procure you more certain intelligence. You shall have it I promise -you, before four and twenty hours are over, and all I ask is that you -will not commit yourself by giving your consent till that intelligence -has been obtained. You cannot say that you consent if Mr. Marlow -proves to be the heir of that nobleman, but will not consent if such -be not the case.--That would never do, and therefore your consent -would be irrevocable. But on the other hand there can be no great harm -in waiting four and twenty hours at the utmost. I have plenty of books -of heraldry and genealogy, which will soon let me into the facts, and -you shall know them plainly and straightforwardly at once. You can -then decide and state your decision firmly and calmly, with just -reason and upon good grounds." - -Lady Hastings was silent. She saw that Mrs. Hazleton had detected the -motives of her sudden change of views, and she did not much like being -detected. She had fully made up her mind, too, that Marlow was to -become Earl and her daughter Countess of Launceston, and the very -thought of such not being the result was a sort of half disappointment -to her. Now Lady Hastings did not like being disappointed at all, and -moreover she had made up her mind to have a scene of reconciliation, -and tenderness, and gratitude with her husband and her daughter, from -which--being of a truly affectionate disposition--she thought she -should derive great pleasure. Thus she hesitated for a moment as to -what she should answer, and Mrs. Hazleton, determined not to let the -effect of what she had said subside before she had bound her more -firmly, added, after waiting a short time for a reply, "you will -promise me, will you not, that you will not distinctly recall your -injunction, and give your consent to the marriage till you have seen -me again; provided I do not keep you in suspense more than four and -twenty hours? It is but reasonable too, and just, and you would, I am -sure, repent bitterly if you were to find afterwards that your consent -to this very unequal marriage had been obtained by deceit, and that -you bad been made a mere fool of--Really at the very first sight, even -if I had not good reason to believe that this story of the heirship is -either a mistake or a misrepresentation, it seems so like a stage -trick--the cunning plot of some knavish servant or convenient friend -in a drama--that I should be very doubtful. Will you not promise me -then?" - -"Well, there can be no great harm in waiting that length of time," -said Lady Hastings. "I do not mind promising that; but of course you -will let me know within four and twenty hours." - -"I will," replied Mrs. Hazleton firmly; "earlier if it be possible; but -the fact is, I have some business to settle to-morrow of great -importance. My lawyer, Mr. Shanks--whom I believe to be a great -rogue--persuaded me to lend some money upon security which he -pronounced himself to be good. I knew not what it was for; as we women -of course can be no judges of such things; but I have just discovered -that it was to pay off some debts of this young man who calls himself -Sir John Hastings. Now I don't know whether the papers have been -signed, or any thing about it; and I hear that the young man himself -is absent, no one knows where. It makes me very uneasy; and I have -sent for Shanks to come to me to-morrow morning. It may therefore be -the middle of the day before I can get here; but I will not delay a -moment, you may be perfectly sure." - -She had risen as she spoke, and after pressing the hand of Lady -Hastings tenderly in her own, she glided calmly out of the room with -her usual graceful movement, and entering her carriage with a face as -serene as a summer sky, ordered the coachman to drive home in a voice -that wavered not in its lightest tone. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. - - -Mrs. Hazelton entered the carriage, I have said, at the end of the -last chapter, without the slightest appearance of agitation or -excitement. Although now and then a flush, and now and then a -paleness, had spread over her face during the conversation with Lady -Hastings, though her eye had emitted an occasional flash, and at other -times had seemed fixed and meaningless, such indications of internal -warfare were all banished when she left the room, the fair smooth -cheek had its natural color, the eye was as tranquil as that of -indifferent old age. - -The coachman cracked his long whip, before four magnificent large -horses heaved the ponderous vehicle from its resting place, and Mrs. -Hazleton sank back in the carriage and gave herself up to thought--but -not to thought only. Then all the smothered agitation; then all the -strong contending passions broke forth in fierce and fiery warfare. It -is impossible to disentangle them and lay them out, as on a map, -before the reader's mind. It is impossible to say which at first -predominated, rage, or fear, or disappointment, or the thirst of -vengeance. One passion it is true--the one which might be called the -master passion of her nature--soon soared towering above the rest, -like one of those mighty spirits which rise to the dizzy and dangerous -pinnacle of power in the midst of the turbulence and tempest which -accompany great social earthquakes. But at first all was confusion. - -"Never," she repeated to herself--"never!--it shall never be. If I -slay her with my own hand it shall never be--foiled--frustrated in -every thing; and by this mere empty, moody child, who has been my -stumbling block, my enemy, my obstruction, in all my paths. No, no, it -shall never be!" - -A new strain of thought seemed to strike her; her head leaned forward; -her eyes closed, and her lips quivered. - -There are many kinds of conscience, and every one has some sort, such -as it is. What I mean is, that there is almost in every heart a voice -of warning and reproof which counsels us to regret certain actions, -and which speaks in different tones to different men. To the -worldly--those who are habitually of the earth earthly--it holds out -the menace of earthly shame and misfortune and sorrow. It -recapitulates the mistakes we have committed, points to the evil -consequences of evil deeds, shows how the insincerities and falsehoods -of our former course have proved fruitless, and how the cunning -devices, and skilful contrivances, and artful stratagems, have ended -in mortification and reproach and contempt; while still the gloomy -prospects of detection and exposure and public contumely and personal -punishment, are held up before our eyes as the grim portrait of the -future. - -I need not pause here to show how conscience affects those who, -however guilty, have a higher sense--those who have a cloudy belief in -a future state--who acknowledge in their own hearts a God of -justice--who look to judgment, and feel that there must be an -immortality of weal or woe. Mrs. Hazleton was of the former class. The -grave was a barrier to her sight, beyond which there was no seeing. -She had been brought up for this world, lived in this world, thought, -devised, schemed, plotted for this world. She never thought of another -world at all. She went to church regularly every Sunday, read the -prayers with every appearance of devotion, even listened to the sermon -if the preacher preached well, and went home more practically atheist -than many who have professed themselves so. - -What were her thoughts, then, now? They were all earthly still. Even -conscience spoke to her in earthly language, as if there were no other -means of reaching her heart but that. Its very menaces were all -earthly. She reviewed her conduct for the last two or three years, -and bitterly reproached herself for several faults she discovered -therein--faults of contrivance, of design, of execution. She had made -mistakes; and for a time she gave herself up to bitter repentance for -that great crime. - -"Caught in my own trap," she said; "frustrated by a girl--a -child!--ay! and with exposure, perhaps punishment, before me. How she -triumphs, doubtless, in that little malignant heart. How she will -triumph when she brings forward her proofs, and overwhelms me with -them--if she has them. Oh, yes, she has them! She is mighty careful -never to say any thing of which she is not certain. I have remarked -that in her from a child. She has them beyond doubt, and now she is -sitting anticipating the pleasure of crushing me--enjoying the -retrospect of my frustrated endeavors--thinking how she and Marlow -will laugh together over a whole list of attempts that have failed, -and purposes that I have not been able to execute. Yes, yes, they will -laugh loud and gaily, and at the very altar, perhaps, will think with -triumph that they are filling for me the last drop of scorn and -disappointment. Never, never, never! It shall never be. That is the -only way, methinks;" and she fell into dark and silent thought again. - -The fit lasted some time, and then she spoke again, muttering the -words between her teeth as she had previously done. "They will never -marry with a mother's curse upon their union! Oh, no, no, I know her -too well. She will not do that. That weak poppet may die before she -recalls her opposition--must die--and then they will live on loving -and wretched. But it must be made as bitter as possible. It must not -stop there." - -Again she paused and thought, and then said to herself, "That drug -which the Italian monk sold me would do well enough if I did but fully -know its effects. There are things which leave terrible signs behind -them--besides it is old, and may have lost its virtue. I must run no -risk of that--and it must be speedy as well as sure. I have but four -and twenty hours--the time is very short;" and relapsing into silence -again, she continued in deep and silent meditation till the carriage -stopped at her own gates. - -Mrs. Hazleton sat in the library that night for two or three hours, -and studied diligently a large folio volume which she had taken down -herself. She read, and she seemed puzzled. A servant entered to ask -some unimportant question, and she waved him away impatiently. Then -leaning her head upon her hand she thought profoundly. She calculated -in her own mind what Emily knew--how much--how intimately, and how she -had learned it. Such a thing as remorse she knew not; but she had some -fear, though very little--a sort of shrinking from the commission of -acts more daring and terrible than any she had yet performed. There -was something appalling--there is always something appalling--in the -commission of a great new crime, and the turning back, as it were, of -the mind of Mrs. Hazleton from the search for means to accomplish a -deed determined, in order to calculate the necessity of that deed, -proceeded from this sort of awe at the next highest step of evil to -those which she had already committed. - -"She must know all," said Mrs. Hazleton to herself, after having -considered the matter for some moments deeply. "And she must have -learned it accurately. I know her caution well. From whom can she have -learned it?" - -"From that young villain Ayliffe," was the prompt reply. "I was too -harsh with him, and in his fit of rage he has gone away at once to -tell this girl--or perhaps that old fool Dixwell. Most likely he has -furnished her with evidence too, before he fled the country. Without -that I could have set Marlow's discoveries at naught. Yet I doubt his -having gone to Dixwell; he always despised him. Mean as he was -himself; he looked upon him as a meaner. He would not go to him to -whine and cant over him. He would go to the girl herself. Her he -always loved, even in the midst of his violence and his rage. He would -go to her or write to her beyond all doubt. She must be silenced. But -I must deal with another first. Come what will, this marriage shall -not take place. Besides, she is the most dangerous of the two. The -girl might be frightened or awed into secresy, and it will take longer -time to reach her, but nothing will keep that weak woman's tongue from -babbling, and in four and twenty hours her consent will be given to -this marriage. If I can but contrive it rightly, that at least may be -stopped, and a part of my revenge obtained at all events. It must be -so--it must be so." - -She turned to the leaves of the book again, but nothing in the -contents seemed to give her satisfaction. "That will be too long," she -said, after having read about a third of a page. "Three or four days -to operate! Who could wait three or four days when the object is -security, tranquility, or revenge? Besides the case admits of no -delay. Before three of four days all will be over." - -She read again, and was discontented with what she read. "That will -leave traces," she said. "It must be the Italian's dose, I believe, -after all. Those monks are very skilful men, and perhaps it may not -have lost its efficiency. It is easily tried," she exclaimed suddenly, -and ascending quietly to her own dressing-room, she sought out from -the drawer of an old cabinet a small packet of white powder, which she -concealed in the palm of her hand. Then descending to the library -again, she sat for a few minutes in dull, heavy thought, and then rang -a hand-bell which stood upon her table. - -"Bring me a small quantity of meat cut fine for the dog," she said, as -soon as her servant appeared. "He seems ill; what has been the matter -with him?" - -"Nothing, madam," said the man, looking under the table where lay a -beautiful small spaniel sound asleep. "He has been quite well all -day." - -"He has had something like a fit," said Mrs. Hazleton. - -"Dear me, perhaps he is going mad," replied the man. "Had I not better -kill him?" - -"Kill him!" exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton; "on no account whatever. Bring me -a small plate of meat." - -The man did as he was ordered, and on his return found the dog sitting -at his mistress's feet, looking up in her face. - -"Ah, Dorset," she said, speaking to the animal in a kindly tone, "you -are better now, are you?" - -The man seemed inclined to linger to see whether the dog would eat: -but Mrs. Hazleton took the plate from him, and threw the poor beast a -small piece, which he devoured eagerly. - -"There that will do," said Mrs. Hazleton. "You may leave the room." - -When she was alone again, she paused for a moment or two, then -deliberately unfolded the packet, and put a very small quantity of the -powder it contained upon a piece of the meat. This morsel she threw to -the poor animal, who swallowed it at once, and then she set down the -plate upon the ground, which he cleared in a moment. After that Mrs. -Hazleton turned to her reading again, and looked round once at the end -of about two minutes. The dog had resumed his sleeping attitude, and -she read on. Hardly a minute more had passed ere the poor brute -started up, ran round once or twice, as if seized with violent -convulsions, staggered for an instant to and fro, and fell over on its -side. Mrs. Hazleton rang the hell violently, and two servants ran in -at once. "He is dying," she cried; "he is dying." - -"Keep out of his way, madam," exclaimed one of the men, evidently in -great fear himself, "there is no knowing what he may do." - -The next instant the poor dog started once more upon his feet, uttered -a loud and terrific yell, and fell dead upon the floor. - -"Poor thing," said Mrs. Hazleton. "Poor Dorset! He is dead; take him -away." - -The two men seemed unwilling to touch him, but when quite satisfied -that there was no more life left in him, they carried him away, and -Mrs. Hazleton remained alone. - -"Speedy enough," said the lady, replacing the large volume on the -shelf. "We need no distillations and compoundings. This is as -efficacious as ever. Now let me see. I must try and remember the size -of the bottle, and the color of the stuff that was in it." She thought -of these matters for some minutes, and then retired to rest. - -Did she sleep well or ill that night? God knows. But if she slept -well, the friends of hell must sometimes have repose. - -The next morning very early, Mrs. Hazleton walked out. As the reader -knows, she lived at no great distance from the little town, even by -the high-road, and that was shortened considerably by a path through -the park. There was a poor man in the place, an apothecary, who had -came down there in the hope of carrying away some of the practice of -good Mr. Short. He had not been very successful, and his stock of -medicines was not very great: but he had all that Mrs. Hazleton -wanted. Her demands indeed were simple enough--merely a little -logwood, a little saffron, and a little madder. Having obtained these -she asked to see some vials, and selected one containing somewhat less -than half a pint. - -The good man packed all these up with zealous care, saying that he -would send them up to the house in a few minutes. Mrs. Hazleton, -however, said she would carry them herself; but the very idea of the -great lady carrying home a parcel, even through her own park, shocked -the little apothecary extremely, and he pressed hard to be permitted -to send his own boy, till Mrs. Hazleton replied in a rather peremptory -tone, "I always say what I mean, sir. Be so good as to give me the -parcel." - -When she reached her own house, she ordered her carriage to be at the -door at half past twelve in order to convey her to the dwelling of Sir -Philip Hastings. Upon a very nice calculation the drive, commenced at -that hour, would bring her to the place of her destination shortly -after that precise period of the day when Lady Hastings was accustomed -to take an hour's sleep. But Mrs. Hazleton had laid out her plan, and -did not thus act by accident. - -Almost every lady in those days acted the part of a Lady Bountiful in -her neighborhood, and gave, not alone assistance in food and money to -the cottagers and poor people about her, but medicine and sometimes -medical advice. Both the latter were very simple indeed; but the -preparation of these simple medicines entailed the necessity of what -was called a still-room in each great house. In fact to be a Lady -Bountiful, and to have a still-room, were two of the conventionalities -of the day, from which no lady, having more than a very moderate -fortune, could then hope to escape. Mrs. Hazleton was in the -still-room, then, when her dear friend, who had already on one -occasion given the death blow to her schemes upon Mr. Marlow's heart, -drove up to the door and asked to see her. - -The servant replied that his mistress was busy in the still-room, but -that he would go and call her in a moment. - -"Oh, dear, no," replied the lady, entering the house with an elastic -step; "I will go and join her there, and surprise her in her -charitable works. I know the way quite well--you needn't come--you -needn't come;" and on she went to the still-room, which she entered -without ceremony. - -Mrs. Hazleton was, at that moment, in the act of pouring a purpleish -sort of fluid, out of a glass dish with a lip to it, into an -apothecary's vial. She turned round sharply at the sound of the -opening door, thinking that it was produced by a servant intruding -upon her uncalled. When she saw her friend, however, whose indiscreet -advice she had neither forgotten nor forgiven, her face for a moment -turned burning red, and then as pale as death; and she had nearly let -the glass fall from her hand. - -What was said on either part matters very little. Mrs. Hazleton was -too wise to speak as sharply as she felt, and led the way from the -still-room as fast as possible; but her dear friend had in one -momentary glance seen every thing--the glass bowl, the vial, the -fluid, and--more particularly than all--Mrs. Hazleton's sudden changes -of complexion on her entrance. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. - - -Sir Philip Hastings sat at breakfast with his daughter the morning of -the same day on which Mrs. Hazleton in the still-room was subjected to -her dear friend's unpleasant intrusion. He was calmer than he had -been since his return; but it was a gloomy, thoughtful sort of -calmness--that sort of superficial tranquility which is sometimes -displayed under the influence of overpowering feelings, as the sea, so -sailors tell us, is sometimes actually beaten down by the force of the -winds that sweep over it. His brow was contracted with a deep frown, -but it was by no means varied. It was stern, fixed, immoveable. To his -daughter he spoke not a word, except when she bade him good morning, -and asked after his health; and then he only replied "Well." - -When breakfast was nearly over, a servant brought in some letters, and -handed two to his master and one to Emily. Sir Philip's were soon -read; but Emily's was longer, and she was still perusing it, with -apparently much emotion, when the servant returned to the room. Sir -Philip, during the half hour they had been previously together, had -abstained from turning his eyes towards her. He had looked at the -table cloth, or straight at the wall; but now he was gazing at her so -intently, with a strange, eager, haggard expression of countenance -that he did not even notice the entrance of the servant till the man -spoke to him. - -"Please your worship" said the servant "Master Atkinson of the Hill -farm, near Hartwell, wishes to speak to you on some justice business." - -Sir Philip started, and murmured between his teeth. "Justice--ay, -justice!--who did you say?" - -The man repeated what he had said before, and his master replied, -"shew him in." - -He then remained for a moment or two with his head leaning on his -hand, and seemingly making an effort to recall his thoughts from some -distant point; and when Mr. Atkinson entered, he spoke to him -tranquilly enough. - -"Pray be seated, Mr. Atkinson," he said, "what is it you want? I have -meddled little with magisterial affairs lately." - -"I want a warrant, sir," replied Mr. Atkinson. "And against a near -neighbor and relation of yours; so I am sure you are not a man to -refuse me justice." - -"Not if it were my nearest and my dearest," replied Sir Philip, in a -deep and hollow tone. "Who is the person?" - -"A young man calling himself Sir John Hastings," said Mr. Atkinson. -"We are afraid of his getting out of the country. He knows he has been -found out, and he is hiding somewhere not very far off; but I and a -constable will find him." - -Emily had lain down her letter by her side, and was listening -attentively. It was clear she was greatly moved by what she heard. Her -face turned white and red. Her lip quivered as if she would fain have -spoken; but she hesitated and remained silent for a moment. She -thought of the unhappy young man lying on his death bed; for she had -as yet received no intimation of his death from Mr. Dixwell, and of -his seeing himself seized upon by the officers of justice, his last -thoughts disturbed, all his anxious strivings after penitence, all his -communings with his own heart, all his efforts to prepare for meeting -with death, and God, and judgment, scattered by worldly shame and -earthly anguish--she felt for him--she would fain have petitioned for -him; but she was misunderstood, and, what was worse, she knew it--she -felt it--she could not speak--she dare not say any thing, though her -heart seemed as if it would break, and her only consolation was that -all would be explained, that her motives, her conduct, would all be -clear and comprehended in a a very few short hours. She knew, however, -that she could not bear much more without weeping; for the letter -which she had received from Marlow, telling her that he had arrived in -London, and would set off to see her, as soon as some needful -business, in the capital had been transacted, had agitated her much, -and even pleasureable emotions will often shake the unnervous so as to -weaken rather than strengthen us when called upon to contend with -others of a different kind. - -She rose then and left the room with a sad look and wavering step, and -Sir Philip gazed at her as she passed with a look impossible to -describe, saying to himself, "So--is it so?" - -The next instant, however, he turned to the farmer, who was a man of a -superior class to the ordinary yeomen of that day, saying, "What is -your charge, sir?" - -"Oh, plenty of charges, sir," replied the man; "fraud, conspiracy, -perjury, forgery, in regard to all which I am ready to give -information on my oath." - -Sir Philip leaned his head upon his hand, and thought bitterly for two -or three minutes. Then raising his eyes full to Atkinson's face, he -said, "Were this young man my own child, were he my son, or were he my -brother, were he a very dear friend, I should not have the slightest -hesitation, Mr. Atkinson. I would take the information, and grant you -a warrant at once--nay; I will do so still, if you insist upon it; for -it shall never be said that any consideration made me refuse justice. -But I would have you remember that Sir John Hastings is my enemy; that -he has, justly or unjustly, deprived me of fortune and station, and -throughout the only transactions we have had together, has shown a -spirit of malignity against me which might well make men believe that -I must entertain similar feelings towards him. To sign a warrant -against him, therefore, would be very painful to me, although I -believe him to be capable of the crimes with which you charge him, and -know you to be too honest a man to make such an accusation without a -reasonable confidence in its truth. But I would have you consider -whether it may not bring suspicion upon all your proceedings, if your -very first step therein is to obtain a warrant against this man from -his known and open enemy." - -"But what am I to do, Sir Philip?" asked the farmer. "I am afraid he -will escape. I know that he is hiding in this very neighborhood, in -this very parish, within half a mile of this house." - -A groan burst from the heart of Sir Philip Hastings. He had spoken his -remonstrance clearly, slowly, and deliberately, forcibly bending his -thoughts altogether to the subject before him; but he had been deeply -and terribly moved all the time, and this direct allusion to the -hiding place of John Ayliffe, to the very house which his daughter had -visited on the previous day, roused all the terrible feelings, the -jealous anger, the indignation, the horror, the contempt which had -been stirred up in him, by what he thought her indecent, if not -criminal act. It was too much for his self-command, and that groan -burst forth in the struggle against himself. - -He recovered himself speedily, however, and he replied, "Apply to Mr. -Dixwell: he is a magistrate, and lives hardly a stone's throw from -this house. You will lose but little time, save me from great pain, -and both you and me from unjust imputations." - -"Oh, I am not afraid of any imputations," said Mr. Atkinson. "I have -personally no interest in the matter. You have, Sir, a great interest -in it and if you would just hear what the case is, you would see that -no one should look more sharply than you to the matter, in order that -no time may be lost." - -"I would rather not hear the case at all," replied Sir Philip. "If I -have a personal interest in it, as you say, it would ill befit me to -meddle. Go to Mr. Dixwell, my good friend. Explain the whole to him, -and although perhaps he is not the brightest man that ever lived, yet -he is a good man and an honest man, who will do justice in this -matter." - -"Very well, sir, very well," replied the farmer, a little mortified; -for to say the truth, he had anticipated some little accession of -importance from lending a helping hand to restore Sir Philip Hastings -to the rights of which he had been unjustly deprived, and taking his -leave he went away, thinking the worthy baronet the most impracticable -man he had ever met with in his life. "I always knew that he was -crotchety," he said to himself, "and carried his notions of right and -wrong to a desperate great length; but I did not know that he went so -far as this. I don't believe that if he saw a man running away with -his own apples, he would stop him without a warrant from another -justice. Yet he can be severe enough when he is not concerned himself, -as we all know. He'd hang every poacher in the land for that matter, -saying, as I have heard him many a time, that it is much worse to -steal any thing that is unprotected, than if it is protected." - -With these thoughts he rode straight away to the house of Mr. Dixwell, -but to his mortification he found that the worthy clergyman was out. -"Can you tell me where he is?" he asked of the servant, "I want him on -business of the greatest importance." - -The woman hesitated for a moment, but the expression of perplexity and -anxiety on the good farmer's face overcame her scruples, and she -replied, "I did not exactly hear him say where he was going, but I saw -him take the foot-path down to Jenny Best's." - -Atkinson turned his horse's head at once, and rode along the road till -he reached the cottage. There he fastened his horse to a tree, and -went in. The outer room was vacant; but through the partition he heard -a voice speaking in a slow, measured tone, as if in prayer; and after -waiting and hesitating for a moment or two, he struck upon the table -with his knuckles to call attention to his presence. - -The moment after, the door opened slowly and quietly, and Jenny Best -herself first put out her head, and then came into the room with a -curtsy, closing the door behind her. - -"Good day, Jenny," said the farmer; "is Mr. Dixwell here?" - -"Yes, Master Atkinson," replied the good dame; "he is in there, -praying with a sick person." - -"Why how is that?" asked Mr. Atkinson. "Best is not ill, I hope, nor -your son." - -"No, sir," answered the old woman; "it is a young man who broke his -leg close by our door the other day;" and seeing him about to ask -further questions, which she might have had difficulty in parrying, -she added, "I will call the parson to you, sir." - -Thus saying, she retreated again into the inner room, and in a few -moments Mr. Dixwell himself appeared. - -"God day, Atkinson," he said; "you have been absent on a journey, I -hear." - -"Yes, your Reverence," replied the farmer, "and it is in consequence -of that journey that I come to you now. I want a warrant from you, Mr. -Dixwell; and that as quick as possible." - -"Why, I cannot give you a warrant here," said the clergyman, -hesitating. "I have no clerk with me, nor any forms of warrants, and I -cannot very well go home just now. It can, do no harm waiting an hour -or two, I suppose." - -"It may do a great deal of harm," replied the farmer, "for as great a -rogue and as bad a fellow as ever lived may escape from justice if it -is not granted immediately." - -"Can't you go to Mr. Hastings?" said the clergyman. "He would give you -one directly, if the case justifies it." - -"He sent me to your Reverence," replied the farmer. "In one word, the -case is this, Mr. Dixwell. I have to charge a man, whom, I suppose, I -must call a gentleman, upon oath, with fraud, perjury, and forgery. -Shanks, one of the conspirators we have got already. But this -man--this fellow who calls himself Sir John Hastings, I mean, is -hiding away here--in this very cottage, sir, I am told--and may make -his escape at any minute. Now that I am here, and a magistrate with -me, I tell you fairly, sir, I will not quit the place till I have him -in custody." - -He spoke in a very sharp and decided tone; for to say the truth he had -a vague suspicion that Mr. Dixwell, whose good-nature was well known, -knew very well where John Ayliffe was, and might be trying to convert -him, with the full intention of afterwards aiding him to escape. The -clergyman answered at once, however, "he is here, Master Atkinson, but -he is very ill, and will soon be in sterner custody than yours." - -There was a good deal of the bull-dog spirit of the English yeoman in -the good farmer's character, and he replied tartly, "I don't care for -that. He shall be in my custody first." - -Mr. Dixwell looked pained and offended. His brow contracted a good -deal, and laying his hand upon the farmer's wrist, he led him towards -the door of the inner room, saying, "You are hard and incredulous, -sir. But come with me, and you shall see his state with your own -eyes." - -The farmer suffered himself to be led along, and Mr. Dixwell opened -the door, and entered the room with a quiet and reverent step. The -sunshine was streaming through the little window upon the floor, and -by its cheerful light, contrasting strangely with the gray darkness of -the face which lay upon the bed of death. There was not a sound, but -the footfalls of the two persons who entered; for the old woman had -seated herself by the bedside, and was gazing silently at the face of -the sick man. - -At first, Mr. Atkinson thought that he was dead; and life indeed -lingered on with but the very faintest spark. He seemed utterly -unconscious; for the eyes even did not move at the sound of the -opening door, and the farmer was a good deal shocked at the hardness -of his judgment. He was not one, however, to give up his purpose -easily, and when Mr. Dixwell said, "you can now see and judge for -yourself--is he likely to escape, do you think?" Atkinson answered in -a low but determined tone, "No, but I do not think I ought to leave -him as long as there is any life in him." - -"You can do as you please," said Mr. Dixwell, in a tone of much -displeasure. "Only be silent. There is a seat;" and leaving him, he -took his place again by the dying man's side. - -Though shocked, and feeling perhaps a little ashamed, Mr. Atkinson. -with that dogged sort of resolution which I have before spoken of; -resisted his own feelings, and would not give up the field. He thought -he was doing his duty, and that is generally quite sufficient for an -Englishman. Nothing could move him, so long as breath was in the body -of the unhappy young man. He remained seated there, perfectly still -and silent, as hour after hour slipped away, with his head bent down, -and his arms crossed upon his chest. - -The approach of death was very slow with John Ayliffe: he lingered -long after all the powers of the body seemed extinct. Hand or foot he -could not move--his sunken eyes remained half closed--the hue of death -was upon his face, but yet the chest heaved, the breath came and went, -sometimes rapidly, sometimes very slowly; and for along time Mr. -Dixwell could not tell whether he was conscious at all or not. At the -end of two hours, however, life seemed to make an effort against the -great enemy, though it was a very feeble one, and intellect had no -share in it. He began to mutter a few words from time to time, but -they were wild and incoherent, and the faint sounds referred to dogs -and horses, to wine and money. He seemed to think himself talking to -his servants, gave orders, and asked questions, and told them to light -a fire, he was so cold. This went on till the shades of evening began -to fall, and then Mr. Short, the surgeon, came in and felt his pulse. - -"It is very strange," said the surgeon, "that this has lasted so long. -But it must be over in a few minutes now. I can hardly feel a -pulsation." - -Mr. Dixwell did not reply, and the surgeon remained gazing on the -dying man's face till it was necessary to ask for a light. Jenny Best -brought in a solitary candle, and whether it was the effect of the -sudden though feeble glare, I cannot tell, John Ayliffe opened his -eyes, and said, more distinctly than before, "I am going--I am -going--this is death--yes, this is death! Pray for me, Mr. -Dixwell--pray for me--I do repent--yes, I have hope." - -The jaw quivered a little as he uttered the last words, but at the -same moment John Best, the good woman's husband, entered the room with -a hurried step, drew Mr. Short, the surgeon, aside, and whispered -something in his ear. - -"Good Heaven!" exclaimed the surgeon. "Impossible, Best! Has the man -got a horse? mine's at the farm." - -"Yes, sir, yes!" replied the man, eagerly. "He has 'got a horse; but -you had better make haste." - -Mr. Short dashed out of the room; but before he left it, John Ayliffe -was a corpse. - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. - - -Mrs. Hazleton found the inconvenience of having a dear friend. It was -in vain that she tried to get rid of her visitor. The visitor would -not be got rid of. She was deaf to hints; she paid no attention to any -kind of inuendoes; and she looked so knowing, so full of important -secrets, so quietly mischievous, that Mrs. Hazleton was cowed by that -most unnerving of all things, the consciousness of meditated crime. -She could not help thinking that the fair widow saw into her thoughts -and purposes--she could not help doubting the impenetrability of the -veil behind which hypocrisy hides the hideout features of unruly -passion--she could not help thinking that the keen-sighted and astute -must perceive some of the movements at least of the rude movers of the -painted puppets of the face--the smile, the gay looks, the sparkling -eyes, the calm placid brow, the dignified serenity, which act their -part in the glittering scene of the world, too often worked by the -most harsh, foul, and brutal of all the motives of the human heart. -But she was irritated too, as well as fearful; and there was a sort of -combat went on between impatience and apprehension. Had she given way -to inclination she would have ordered one of her servants to take the -intruder by the shoulders and put her out of doors; but for more -than an hour after the time she had fixed for setting out, vague -fears--however groundless and absurd--were sufficiently powerful to -restrain her temper. She was not of a character, however, to be long -cowed by any thing. She had great confidence in herself--in her own -resources--in her own conduct and good fortune likewise. That -confidence might have been a little shaken indeed by events which had -lately occurred; but anger soon rallied it, and brought it back to her -aid. She asked herself if she were a fool to dread that woman--what it -was she had discovered--what it was that she could testify. She had -merely seen her doing what almost every lady did a hundred times in -the year in those day--preparing some simples in the still-room; and -gradually as she found that gentle hints proved unsuccessful, she -resumed her natural dignity of demeanor. That again gave way to a -chilling silence, and then to a somewhat irritable imperiousness, and -rising from her chair, she begged her visitor to excuse her, alleging -that she had business of importance to transact which would occupy her -during the whole day. - -Not one of all the variation of conduct--not one sign, however slight, -of impatience, doubt, or anger--escaped the keen eye that was fixed -upon her. Mrs. Hazleton, under the influence of conscience, did not -exactly betray the dark secrets of her own heart, but she raised into -importance, an act in itself the most trifling, which would have -passed without any notice had she not been anxious to conceal it. - -As soon as her visitor, taking a hint that could not be mistaken, had -quitted the room and the house, with an air of pique and ill-humor, -Mrs. Hazleton returned to the still-room and recommenced her -operations there; but she found her hand shaking and her whole frame -agitated. - -"Am I a fool," she asked herself, "to be thus moved by an empty gossip -like that? I must conquer this, or I shall be unfit for my task." - -She sat down at a table, leaned her head upon her hand, gazed forth -out of the little window, forced her mind away from the present, -thought of birds and flowers, and pictures and statues, and of the two -sunshiny worlds of art and nature--of every thing in short but the -dark, dark cares of her own passions. It was a trick she had learned -to play with herself--one of those pieces of internal policy by which -she had contrived so often and so long, to rule and master with -despotic sway the frequent rebellions of the body against the tyranny -of the mind. - -She had not sat there two minutes, however, ere there was a tap at the -door, and she started with a quick and jarring thrill, as if that -knock had been a summons of fate. The next instant she looked quickly -around, however, and was satisfied that whoever entered could find no -cause for suspicion. She was there seated quietly at the table. The -vial was out of sight, the fatal powder hidden in the palm of her -hand, and she said aloud, "Come in." - -The butler entered, bowing profoundly and saying, "The carriage is at -the door, madam, and Wilson has just come back from the house of Mr. -Shanks, but he could not find him." - -The man hesitated a little as if he wished to add something more, and -Mrs. Hazleton replied in a somewhat sharp tone, "I told you when I -sent it away just now that I would tell you when I was ready. I shall -not be so for half an hour; but let it wait, and do not admit any one. -Mr. Shanks must be found, and informed that I want to see him early -to-morrow, as I shall go to London on the following day." - -"I am sorry to say, madam," replied the butler, "that if the talk of -the town is true, he will not be able to come. They say he has been -apprehended on a charge of perjury and forgery in regard to that -business of Sir Philip Hastings, and has been sent off to the county -jail." - -Mrs. Hazleton looked certainly a little aghast, and merely saying -"Indeed!" she waved her hand for the man to withdraw. - -She then sat silent and motionless for at least five minutes. What -passed within her I cannot tell; but when she rose, though pale as -marble, she was firm, calm, and self-possessed as ever. She turned the -key in the lock; she drew a curtain which covered the lower half of -the window, farther across, so that no eye from without, except the -eye of God, could see what she was doing there within. She then drew -forth the vial from its nook, opened out the small packet of powder, -and poured part of it into a glass. She seemed as if she were going to -pour the whole, but she paused in doing so, and folded up the rest -again, saying, "That must be fully enough; I will keep the rest; it -may be serviceable, and I can get no more." - -She gazed down upon the ground near her feet with a look of cold, -stern, but awful resolution, as if there had been an open grave before -her; and then she placed the packet in her glove, poured a little -distilled water into the glass, shook it, and held the mixture up to -the light. The powder had in great part dissolved, but not entirely, -and she added a small quantity more of the distilled water, and poured -the whole into the vial, which was already about one-third full of a -dark colored liquid. - -"Now I will go," she said, concealing the bottle. But when she reached -the door, and had her hand upon the lock, she paused and remained in -very deep thought for an instant, with her brow slightly contracted -and her lip quivering. Heaven knows what she thought of then,--whether -it was doubt, or fear, or pity, or remorse--but she said in a low -tone, "Down, fool! it shall be done," and she passed out of the room. - -She paused suddenly in the little passage which led to the still-room, -by a pair of double doors, into the principal part of the house, -perceiving with some degree of consternation that she had been -unconsciously carrying the vial with its dark colored contents in her -hand, exposed to the view of all observers. Her eye ran round the -passage with a quick and eager glance; but there was no one in sight, -and she felt reassured. Even at that moment she could smile at her own -heedlessness, and she did smile as she placed the bottle in her -pocket, saying to herself, "How foolish! I must not suffer such fits -of absence to come upon me, or I shall spoil all." - -She then walked quietly to her dressing-room, arranged her dress for -the little journey before her, and descended again to the hall, where -the servants were waiting for her corning. After she had entered the -carriage, however, she again fell into a fit of deep thought, closed -her eyes, and remained as if half asleep for nearly an hour. Perhaps -it would be too much to scrutinize the state or changes of her -feelings during that long, painful lapse of thought. That there was a -struggle--a terrible struggle--can hardly be doubted--that opportunity -was given her for repentance, for desistance, between the purpose and -the deed, we know; and there can be little doubt that the small, -still voice--which is ever the voice of God--spoke to her from the -spirit-depth within, and warned her to forbear. But she was of an -unconquerable nature; nothing could turn her; nothing could overpower -her, when she had once resolved on any act. There was no persuasion -had effect; no remonstrance was powerful. Reason, conscience, habit -itself, were but dust in the balance in the face of one of her -determinations. - -She roused herself suddenly from her fit of moody abstraction, when -the carriage was still more than a mile from the house of Sir Philip -Hastings. She looked at the watch which hung by her side, and gazed at -the sky; and then she said to herself, "That woman's impertinent -intrusion was intolerable. However; I shall get there an hour before -the twenty-four hours have passed, and doubtless she will have kept -her word and refrained from speaking till she has seen me; but I am -afraid I shall find her woke up from her midday doze, and that may -make the matter somewhat difficult. Difficult! why I have seen -jugglers do tricks a thousand times to which this is a mere trifle. My -sleight of hand will not fail me, I think;" and then she set her mind -to work to plan out every step of her proceedings. - -All was clearly and definitely arranged by the time she arrived at the -door of Sir Philip Hastings' house. Her face was cleared of every -cloud, her whole demeanor under perfect control. She was the Mrs. -Hazleton, the calm, dignified, graceful Mrs. Hazleton, which the world -knew; and when she descended from the carriage with a slow but easy -step, and spoke to the coachman about one of the springs which had -creaked and made a noise on the way, not one of Sir Philip Hastings' -servants could have believed that her mind was occupied with any thing -more grave than the idle frivolous thoughts of an every-day society. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. - - -Mrs. Hazleton fancied herself in high good luck; for just as she was -passing through the door into the hall, Lady Hastings' maid crossed -and made her a curtsey. Mrs. Hazleton beckoned her up, saying in a -quiet, easy, every-day tone, "I suppose your lady is awake by this -time?" - -"No, madam," replied the maid, "she is asleep still. She did not take -her nap as early as usual to-day; for Mistress Emily was with her, and -my lady would not go to sleep till she went out to take a walk." - -Mrs. Hazleton was somewhat alarmed at this intelligence; for she had -not much confidence in her good friend's discretion. "How is Miss -Emily?" she said in a tender tone. "She seemed very sad and low when -last I saw her." - -"She is just the same, Madam," replied the maid. "She did not seem -very cheerful when she went out, and has been crying a good deal -to-day." - -Mrs. Hazleton was better satisfied, and paused for an instant to -think; but the maid interrupted her cogitations by saying--"I think I -may wake my lady now, if you please to come up, Madam." - -"Oh, dear, no," replied Mrs. Hazleton. "Do not wake her. I will go in -quietly and sit with her till she wakes naturally. It is a pity to -deprive her of one moment's calm sleep. You needn't come, you needn't -come. I will ring for you when your mistress wakes;" and she quietly -ascended the stairs, though the maid offered some civil remonstrances -to her undertaking the task of watching by her sleeping mistress. - -The most careful affection could not have prompted greater precautions -in opening the door of the sick lady's chamber, than those which were -taken by Mrs. Hazleton. It was a good solid door, however, well -seasoned, and well hung, and moved upon its hinges without noise. She -closed it with the same care, and then with a soft tread glided up to -the side of the bed. - -Lady Hastings was sleeping profoundly and quietly; and as she lay in -an attitude of easy grace, a shadow of her youthful beauty seemed to -have returned, and all the traces of after cares and anxiety were -banished for the time. On the table, near the bed-head, stood the vial -of medicine, with the glass and spoon; and Mrs. Hazleton eyed it for a -moment or two without touching it. She saw that she had hit the color -exactly; but the quantity in that vial, and the one she had with her, -was somewhat different. She felt puzzled and doubtful. She asked -herself--"Would the difference be discovered when the time came for -giving her the medicine?" and a certain degree of trepidation seized -her. But she was bold, and said to herself--"They will never see it. -They suspect nothing. They will never see it." She took the vial from -her pocket, and held it for an instant or two in her hand. Again a -doubt and hesitation took possession of her. She gazed at the sleeper -with a haggard eye. The face was so calm, so sweet, so gentle in -expression, that the pleasant look perhaps did move her a little with -remorse. The voice within said again, and again, "Forbear!" She tried -to deafen herself against it, or to fill the ear of conscience with -delusive sounds. "She is dying," she said--"She will die--she cannot -recover. It is but taking away a few short hours, in order to stop -that fatal marriage, which shall never be. I am becoming a fool--a -weak irresolute fool." - -Just as she thus thought, Lady Hastings moved uneasily, as if to wake -from her slumber. That moment was decisive. With a hurried hand, and -quick as light, Mrs. Hazleton changed the two vials, and concealed the -one which she had taken away. - -Then it was, probably for the first time, that all the awful -consequences of the deed, for time and for eternity, flashed upon her. -The scales fell from her eyes: no longer passion, or mortified vanity, -or irritated pride, or disappointed love, distorted the objects or -concealed their forms. She stood there consciously a murderer. She -trembled in every limb; and, unable to support herself, sunk down in -the chair that stood near. Had Lady Hastings slept on, Mrs. Hazleton -would have been saved; for her impulse was immediately to reverse the -very act she had done--all would have been saved--all to whom that act -brought wretchedness. But the movement of the chair--the sound -of the vial touching the marble table--the rustle of the thick -silk--dispelled what remained of slumber, and Lady Hastings opened her -eyes drowsily, and looked round. At the very moment she would have -given worlds to recall it. The deed became irrevocable. The barrier of -Fate fell: it was amongst the things done; it was written in the book -of God as a great crime committed. Nothing remained but to insure, -that the end she aimed at would be obtained; that the evil -consequences, in this world at least, should be averted from herself. -There was a terrible struggle to recover her self-command--a wrestling -of the spirit--against the turbulent and fierce emotions which shook -the body. She was still much agitated when Lady Hastings recognized -her and began to speak; but her determination was taken to obtain the -utmost that she could from the act she had committed--to have the full -price of her crime. She was no Judas Iscariot, to be content with the -thirty pieces of silver for the innocent blood, and then hang herself -in despair. Oh no! She had sold her own soul, and she would have its -price. - -But yet, as I have said, the struggle was terrible, and lasted longer -than usual with her. - -"Dear me, my kind friend, is that you?" said Lady Hastings. "Have you -been here long? I did not hear you come in." - -Her words, and her tone, were gentle and affectionate. All the -coldness and the sharpness of the preceding day seemed to have passed -away, and to have been forgotten; but words and tone were equally -jarring to the feelings of Mrs. Hazleton. The sharpest language, the -most angry manner, would have been a relief to her. They would have -afforded her some sort of strength--some sort of support. - -It is painful enough to hear sweet music when we are very sad. I have -known it rise almost to agony; but the tones of friendship and regard, -of gentleness and tender kindness, to the ear of hatred and malice, -must be more terrible still. - -"I have been here but a moment," said Mrs. Hazleton, gloomily--almost -peevishly. "I suppose it was my coming in woke you; but I am sure I -made as little noise as possible." - -"Why, what is the matter?" said Lady Hastings. "You look quite pale -and agitated, and you speak quite crossly." - -"Your sudden waking startled me," said Mrs. Hazleton; "and, besides, -you looked so ill, my dear friend. I almost thought you were dead till -you began to move." - -There was malice in the sentence, simple as it seemed, and it had its -effect. Nervous, hypochondriac, Lady Hastings was frightened at the -mere sound, and her heart beat strangely at the very thought of being -supposed dead. It seemed to her to augur that she was very ill; that -she was much worse than her friends allowed her to believe; that they -anticipated her speedy dissolution, and she remained silent and sad -for several minutes, giving Mrs. Hazleton time to recover herself -completely. She was a little piqued too at the abruptness of Mrs. -Hazleton's manner. Neither the speech, nor the mode, nor the speaker, -pleased her; and she replied at length--"Nevertheless, I feel a good -deal better to-day. I have slept well for, I dare say, a couple of -hours; and my dear child Emily has been with me all the morning. I -must say she bears opposition and contradiction very sweetly." - -She knew that would not please Mrs. Hazleton, and she laid some -emphasis on the words by way of retaliation. It was petty, but it was -quite in her character. "Now I think of it," she added, "you promised -to tell me what you discovered in regard to Marlow's relationship to -Lord Launceston. I find--but never mind. Tell me what you have found -out." - -Mrs. Hazleton hesitated. The first impulse was to tell a lie--to -assert that Marlow was not the old earl's heir; but there was -something in Lady Hastings' manner which made her suspect that she had -received more certain information, and she made up her mind to speak -the truth. - -"It is very true," she said; "Mr. Marlow is the old lord's nearest -male relation, and heir to his title. I suspect," she added with a -silly sounding laugh, "you have found this out yourself, my dear -friend, and have made your peace with Emily, by withdrawing your -opposition to her marriage." - -Her heart was very bitter at that moment; for she really did suspect -all that she said. The idea presented itself to her mind (producing a -feeling of fierce disappointment), of all her efforts being rendered -fruitless, her dark schemes frustrated, her cunning contrivances -without effect, at the very moment when the crime, by which she -proposed to insure success, was so far consummated as to be beyond -recall. She was relieved on that score in a moment. - -"Oh dear no," cried Lady Hastings. "I promised you, my dear friend, -that I would say nothing till I saw you, and I have said nothing -either to my husband or Emily. But I will of course now tell her all -immediately, and I do confess it will give me greater satisfaction -than any act of my whole life, to withdraw the opposition to her -marriage which has made her so miserable, and to bid her be happy with -the man of her own choice--an excellent good young man he is too. He -has been laboring, I find, for the last fortnight or three weeks, -night and day, in our service, and has detected the horrible -conspiracy by which my husband was deprived of his rights and -property. I shall tell Emily, with great joy, as soon as ever she -comes back, that were it for nothing but this zeal in our cause, I -would receive him joyfully as my son-in-law." - -"You had better wait till to-morrow morning," said Mrs. Hazleton, in a -cold but significant tone. - -"Oh dear no," said Lady Hastings, somewhat petulantly, "I have waited -quite long enough--perhaps too long. You surely would not have me -protract my child's anxiety and sorrow unnecessarily. No, I will tell -her the moment she returns. She read me part of a letter from Marlow -to-day, which shows me that he has lost no time in seeking to serve us -and make us happy, and I will lose no time in making my child and him -happy also." - -"As you please," replied Mrs. Hazleton; "I only thought that in this -changeable world, there are so many unexpected things occurring -between one day and another, it might be well for you to pause and -consider a little--in order, I mean, that after-thought may not show -you reason to withdraw your consent, as you now withdraw your -objection." - -"My consent once given, shall never be withdrawn," replied Lady -Hastings, in a determined tone. - -Mrs. Hazleton looked at the vial by the bedside, and then at her -watch. "You had better avoid all agitation," she said, "and at all -events before you speak with Emily, take a dose of the medicine, which -Short tells me he has given you to soothe and calm your spirits--shall -I give you one now?" - -"No, I thank you," replied Lady Hastings, briefly; "not at present." - -"Is it not the time?" said Mrs. Hazleton, looking at her watch again; -"the good man told me you were to take it very regularly." - -"But he told me," replied Lady Hastings, "that nobody was to give it -to me but Emily, and she will be back at the right time, I am sure. -What o'clock is it?" - -"Past five," replied Mrs. Hazleton, advancing the hour a little. - -"Then it wants three quarters of an hour to the time," said Lady -Hastings, "and Emily has only gone to take a walk. We are expecting -Marlow to-night, so she will not go far I am sure." - -Mrs. Hazleton fell into profound thought. In proposing to give Lady -Hastings the portion herself, she had deviated a little from her -original plan. She had intended all along, that the mortal draught -should be administered by the hand of Emily, and she had only been -tempted to depart from that purpose by the fear of Lady Hastings -withdrawing her opposition to her daughter's marriage with Marlow -before the deed was fully accomplished. There was no help for it, -however. She was obliged to take her chance of the result; and while -she mused at that moment, vague notions--what shall I call them?--not -exactly schemes or purposes, but rather dreams of turning suspicion -upon Emily herself, of making men believe--suspect, even if they could -not prove--that the daughter knowingly deprived the mother of life, -crossed her imagination. She meditated rather longer than was quite -decorous, and then suddenly recollecting herself she said, "By the -way, has Emily yet condescended to particularize her astounding -charges against your poor friend? I am really anxious to hear them, -and although I confess that the matter has afforded me some amusement, -it has brought painful feelings and doubts with it too: I have -sometimes fancied, my dear friend, that there is a slight aberration -in your poor Emily's mind, and I can account for her conduct in this -instance by no other mode. You know her grandfather, Sir John, had -moments when he was hardly sane. I have heard your own good father -declare upon one occasion, that Sir John was as mad as a lunatic. Tell -me then, has Emily brought forward any proofs, or alluded to these -accusations since I saw you? You said she would explain all in a few -hours." - -"She has not as yet explained all," replied Lady Hastings, "but I -cannot deny that she has alluded to the charges, and repeated them all -distinctly. She said that the delay had been rather longer than she -expected; but that as soon as Mr. Dixwell came, every thing should be -told." - -"The suspense is unpleasant," said Mrs. Hazleton, somewhat -sarcastically; "I trust the young lady does not play with the feelings -of her lover as she does with those of her friends, otherwise I should -pity Marlow." - -Lady Hastings was a good deal nettled. "I do not think he much -deserves your pity," she replied; "and besides, I think he is quite -satisfied with Emily's conduct, as I am also. I am quite confident she -has good reason for what she says, my dear Madam--not that I mean to -assert that the charges are true, by any means--she may be mistaken, -you know--she may be misinformed--but that she brings them in good -faith, and fully believes that she can prove them distinctly, I do not -for a moment doubt. If she is wrong, nobody will be more grieved, or -more ready to make atonement than herself; but whether she is right or -wrong, remains to be proved." - -"All that I have to request then is," said Mrs. Hazleton, "that you -will be kind enough to let me know, immediately you are yourself -informed, what are the specific charges, and upon what grounds they -rest. That they must be false, I know; and therefore I shall give -myself no uneasiness about them. All I regret is, that you should be -troubled about what must be frivolous and absurd. Nevertheless, I must -beg you to let me hear immediately." - -"Sir Philip will do that," replied Lady Hastings, coldly. "If Emily is -right in her views, the matter will require the intervention of a man. -It will be too serious for a woman to deal with." - -"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Hazleton, with an air of offended dignity. -"Good morning, my dear Lady;" and she quitted the room. - -She paused upon the broad staircase for two or three minutes, leaning -upon the balustrade in deep thought; but when she descended to the -hall, she asked a servant who stood there if Mistress Emily had -returned. The man replied in the negative, and she then inquired for -Sir Philip, asking to see him. - -The servant said he was in his library, and proceeded to announce her. -She followed him so closely as to enter the room almost at the same -moment, and beheld Sir Philip Hastings, with his head leaning on his -hand, sitting at the table and gazing earnestly down upon it. There -was a book before him, but it was closed. - -"I beg pardon for intruding, my dear sir," said Mrs. Hazleton, "but I -wished to ask if you know where Emily is. I want to speak with her." - -"I know nothing about her," said Sir Philip, abruptly; and then -muttered to himself, "would I knew more." - -"I thought I saw her in the fields as I came," said Mrs. Hazleton, -"gathering flowers and herbs--she is fond of botany, I believe." - -"I know not," said Sir Philip, recovering himself a little. "Pray be -seated, Madam--I have not attended much to her studies lately." - -"Thank you, I must go," said Mrs. Hazleton. "Perhaps I shall meet her -as I drive along. Do not let me interrupt you, do not let me interrupt -you;" and she quietly quitted the room. - -"Gathering herbs!" said Sir Philip Hastings, "what new whim is this?" - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. - - -Emily Hastings was not three hundred yards from the house when Mrs. -Hazleton drove away from the house door. She had never been more than -three hundred yards from it during that day. She had gathered no -herbs, she had wandered through no fields; but, at her mother's -earnest request, she had gone out to breathe the fresh air for half an -hour, and had ascended through the gardens to a little terrace on the -hill, where she had continued to walk up and down under the shade of -some tall trees; had seen Mrs. Hazleton arrive, and saw her depart. -The scene which the terrace commanded was very beautiful in itself, -and the house below, the well-cultivated gardens, a fountain here and -there, neat hedge-rows, and trim, well-ordered fields, gave the whole -an air of home comfort, and peaceful affluence, such as few countries -but England can display. - -I have shown, or should have shown, that Emily was somewhat of an -impressible character, and the brightness and the pleasant character -of the scene had its usual effect in cheering. Certainly, to any one -who had stood near her, looking over even that fair prospect, she -herself would have been the loveliest object in it. Every year had -brought out some new beauty in her face, and without diminishing one -charm of extreme youth, had expanded her fair form into womanly -richness. The contour of every limb was perfect: the whole in symmetry -complete; and her movements, as she walked to and fro, upon the -terrace, were all full of that easy, floating grace, which requires a -combination of youth and health, and fine proportion, and a pure, high -mind. If there was a defect it was that she was somewhat pale that -day; for she had not slept at all during the preceding night from -agitated feelings, and busy thoughts that would not rest. But the -slight degree of languor, which watching and anxiety had given, was -not without its own peculiar charm, and the liquid brightness of her -eyes seemed but the more dazzling for the drooping of the eyelid, with -its long sweeping fringe. - -There was a mixture, too, strange as it may seem to say so, of sadness -and cheerfulness, in the expression of her face that day--perhaps I -should say an alternation of the two expressions; but the change from -the one to the other was too rapid for distinctness; and the well of -feelings from which the expressions flowed, was of very mingled -waters. The scene of death and suffering which she had lately -witnessed at the cottage, her father's wild and gloomy manner, her -mother's sickness, the displeasure of one parent, however unjust, and -the opposition of another, to her dearest wishes, however -unreasonable, naturally produced anxiety and sadness. But then again, -on the other hand, Marlow's letter had cheered and comforted her much; -the prospect of seeing him so speedily, rejoiced her more than she had -even anticipated, and the certainty that a few short hours would -remove for ever all doubts as to her conduct, her thoughts and her -feelings, from the mind of both her parents, and especially from that -of her father, gave her strength and happy confidence. - -Poor Emily! How lovely she looked as she walked along there with the -ever varying expressions fluttering over her face, and her rich -nut-brown hair, free and uncovered, floating in curls on the sportive -breath of the breeze. - -When first she came out the general tone of her feelings was sad; but -the bright hopes seemed to in vigor in the open air, and her mind -fixed more and more gladly on the theme of Marlow's letter. As it did -so she extracted fresh motives of comfort from it. He had given her -many details in regard to his late proceedings. He had openly and -plainly spoken of the conduct of Mrs. Hazleton, and told her he could -prove the facts which he asserted. He had not even hinted at an -injunction to secrecy, and although her first impulse had been to wait -for his arrival and let him explain the whole himself, yet, as it was -now getting late in the day, and he had not come--as the obligation to -secrecy, laid upon her by John Ayliffe, might not be removed till the -following morning, and her mother was evidently anxious and uneasy for -want of all explanations--Emily thought she might be fully justified -in reading more of Marlow's letter to Lady Hastings than she had -hitherto done, and showing her that she had asserted nothing without -reasonable cause. The sight of Mrs. Hazleton's carriage arriving -confirmed her in this intention. She knew that fair lady to possess -very great influence over her mother's mind. She believed that -influence to have been always exerted balefully, and she judged it -better, much better, to cut it short at once, rather than suffer it to -endure even for another day. - -When she saw the carriage drive away, then, she returned rapidly to -the house, went to her room to get Marlow's letter, and then proceeded -to her mother's chamber. - -"Mrs. Hazleton has been here, my love," said Lady Hastings, as soon as -Emily approached, "and really, she has been very strange and -disagreeable. She seems, not to have the slightest consideration for -me; but even in my weak state, says every thing that can agitate and -annoy me." - -"I trust, my dear mother, that you will see her no more," said Emily. -"The full proofs of what I told you concerning her. I cannot yet give; -but Marlow lays me under no injunction to secrecy, and I have brought -his letter to read you the part in which he speaks of her. That will -show you quite enough to convince you that Mrs. Hazleton should never -be permitted within these doors again." - -"Oh read it, pray read it, my dear," said Lady Hastings. "I am all -anxiety to know the facts; for really one does not know how to behave -to this woman, and I feel in a very awkward position towards her." - -Emily sat down by the bedside and read, word for word, all that Marlow -had written in reference to Mrs. Hazleton, which was interspersed, -here and there, with many kindly and respectful expressions towards -Lady Hastings and her husband, which he knew well would be gratifying -to her whom he addressed. His statements were all clear and precise, -and from them Lady Hastings learned he had obtained proof, from -various different sources, that her seeming friend had knowingly and -willingly supplied John Ayliffe with the means of carrying on his -fraudulent suit against Sir Philip Hastings: that she had been his -counsel and cooperator in all his proceedings, and had suggested many -of the most criminal steps he had taken. The last passage which Emily -read was remarkable: "To see into the dark abyss of that woman's -heart, my dearest Emily," he said, "is more than I can pretend to do; -but it is perfectly clear that she has been moved in all her -proceedings for some years, by bitter personal hatred towards Sir -Philip, Lady Hastings, and yourself. Mere self-interest--to which she -is by no means insensible on ordinary occasions--has been sacrificed -to the gratification of malice, and she has even gone so far as to -place herself in a situation of considerable peril for the purpose of -ruining your excellent father, and making your mother and yourself -unhappy. What offence has been committed by any of your family to -merit such persevering and ruthless hatred, I cannot tell. I only know -that it must have been unintentional; but that it has not been the -less bitterly revenged. Perhaps the disclosures which must be made as -soon as I return, may give us some insight into the cause; but at -present I can only tell you the result." - -"My dear Emily," said Lady Hastings, "your father should know this -immediately. He has been very sad and gloomy since his return. I -really cannot tell what is the matter with him; but something weighs -upon his spirits, evidently; but this news will give him relief, or, -at all events, will divert his thoughts. It was very natural, my dear -girl, that you should first tell your mother, but I really think that -we must now take him into our councils." - -"I will go and ask him to come here, at once," said Emily. "I think my -dear father has not understood me rightly lately, and has chilled me -by cold looks and words when I would fain have spoken to him, and -poured my whole thoughts into his bosom. Oh, I shall be glad to do any -thing to regain his confidence; and although I know it must be -regained in a very, very short space of time, yet I would gladly do -any thing to prevent its being withheld from me even a moment longer." - -She took a step towards the door as she spoke; but Lady Hastings; -unhappily, called her back. "Stay, my Emily," she said. "Come hither, -my dear child; I have something to say that will cheer you and comfort -you, and give you strength to meet any little crosses of your father's -with patience and resignation. He has been sorely tried, and is much -troubled. But I was going to say, dear Emily," and she threw her arms -round her daughter's neck as she leaned over her, "that I have been -thinking much of all that was said the other day, in regard to your -marriage with Marlow. I see that your heart is set upon it, and that -you can only be happy in a union with him. I know him to be a good and -excellent young man; and after all that he has done to serve us, I -must not interpose your wishes any longer; although, perhaps, I might -have chosen differently for you had the choice rested with me. I give -you, therefore, my full and free consent, Emily, and trust you will be -as happy as you deserve, my dear girl. I think you might very well -have made a higher alliance, but----" - -"But none that would have made me half so happy," replied Emily, -embracing her mother. "Oh, dear mother, if you could know the load you -take from my heart, you would be amply repaid for any sacrifice of -opinion you make to your child's happiness. I cannot conceive any -situation more painful to be placed in than a conflict between two -duties. My positive promise to Marlow, my obedience to you, are now -reconciled, and I thank you a thousand thousand times for having thus -relieved me from so terrible a struggle." - -The tears rose in her eyes as she spoke, and Lady Hastings made her -sit down by her bedside, saying--"Nay, my dear child, do not suffer -yourself to be so much agitated. I did not know till the other day," -she said, feeling some self-reproach at having been brought to play -the part she had acted lately, "I did not know till the other day that -you were really so much in love, my Emily. But I have known what such -feelings are, and can sympathize with you. Indeed I should have -yielded long ago if it had not been for the persuasions of that horrid -Mrs. Hazleton. She always stood in the way of every thing I wanted to -do, and would not even let me know the truth about your real -feelings--pretending all the time to be my friend too!" - -"She has been a friend to none of us, I fear," replied Emily, "and to -me especially an enemy; although I cannot at all tell what I ever did -to merit such pertinacious hatred as she seems to feel towards me." - -"Do you know, my child," said Lady Hastings, with a meaning smile, "I -have been sometimes inclined to think that she wished to marry Marlow -herself?" - -Emily started and looked aghast, and then that delicate feeling, that -sensitiveness for the dignity of woman's nature, which none, I -suspect, but woman's heart can clearly comprehend, caused her cheek to -glow like a rose with shame at the very thought of a woman loving -unloved, and seeking unsought. She felt, however, at once, that there -might be--that there probably was--much truth in what her mother said, -that she had touched the true point, and had discovered one at least -of the causes of Mrs. Hazleton's strange conduct. Nevertheless, she -answered, "Oh, dear mother, I hope it is not so. Sure I am that Marlow -would never trifle with any woman's love, and I cannot think that Mrs. -Hazleton would so degrade herself as even to dream of a man who never -dreamt of her; besides, she is old enough to be his mother." - -"Not quite, my child, not quite," replied Lady Hastings. "She is, I -believe, younger than I am; and though old enough to be your mother, -Emily, I could not have been Marlow's, unless I had married at ten -years old. Besides, she is very beautiful, and she knows it, and may -have thought that such beauty as hers, and her great wealth, might -well make up for a small difference of years." - -"Perhaps you are right," replied Emily, thoughtfully, as many a -circumstance flashed upon her memory, which had seemed, to her dark -and mysterious in times past; but to which the cause suggested by her -mother seemed now to afford a key. "But if it was me, only, she -hated," added Emily, "why should she so persecute my father and -yourself?" - -"Perhaps," replied Lady Hastings, speaking with a clear-sighted wisdom -which she seldom evinced, "perhaps because she knew that the most -terrible blows are those which are aimed at us through those we love. -Besides, one cannot tell what offence your father may have given. He -is very plain spoken, and not accustomed to deal very tenderly. Now -Mrs. Hazleton is not well pleased to hear plain truths, nor to bear -with patience any sharpness or abruptness of manner. Moreover, my -child, I have heard that it was old Sir John Hastings' wish, when we -were all young and free, that your father should marry Mrs. Hazleton. -But he preferred another, perhaps less worthy of him in every -respect." - -"Oh, no, no." cried Emily, with eager affection. "More worthy of him a -thousand times in all ways. More good--more kind--more beautiful." - -"Nay, nay, flatterer," said Lady Hastings, with a smile. "I was well -enough to look at once, Emily, and more to his taste. That is enough. -My glass tells me clearly that I cannot compete with Mrs. Hazleton -now. But it is growing dark, my dear, I must have lights." - -"I will ring for them, and then go and seek my father," replied Emily. - -She rang, and the maid appeared from the anteroom, just as Lady -Hastings was saying that it was time to take her medicine. Emily took -up the vial and the spoon, poured out the quantity prescribed, with a -steady hand, very unlike that with which Mrs. Hazleton had held the -same bottle an hour before, and having put the dose into a wine-glass, -handed it to her mother. - -"Bring lights," said Lady Hastings, addressing her maid; and the -moment after, she raised the glass to her lips, and drank the -contents. - -"It tastes very odd, Emily," she said, "I think it must be spoiled by -the heat of the room." - -"Indeed," said Emily. "That is very strange. The last vial kept quite -well. But Mr. Short will be here to-night, and we will make him send -some more." - -She paused for a moment or two, and then added, "Now, shall I go for my -father?" - -"No," said Lady Hastings, somewhat faintly; "wait till the girl comes -back with the lights." - -She was silent for a few moments, and then raised herself suddenly on -her arm, saying in a tone of great alarm, "Emily, Emily! I feel very -ill.--Good God, I feel very ill!" - -Emily sprang to her side and threw her arm round her; but the next -instant Lady Hastings uttered a fearful scream, like the cry of a -sea-bird, and her head fell back upon her daughter's arm. - -Emily rang the bell violently: ran to the door and shrieked loudly for -aid; for she saw too well that her mother was dying. - -The maid, several of the other servants, and Sir Philip Hastings -himself, rushed into the room. Lights were brought: Mr. Short was sent -for; but ere the servant had well passed the gates, Lady Hastings, -after a few convulsive sobs, had yielded up her spirit. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII. - - -When the surgeon entered the room of Lady Hastings there was a -profound silence. Sir Philip Hastings was standing by his wife's -bedside, motionless as a statue; gazing with a knitted brow and fixed -stony eye upon the features of her whom he had so well and constantly -loved. Emily lay fainting upon the floor, with her head supported by -one of the maids, while another tried to recall her to life. Two more -servants were the room, but they, like all the rest, remained silent -in presence of the awful scene before them. The windows were not yet -closed, and the faint, struggling, gray twilight, came in, and mingled -sombrely with the pale light of the wax candles, giving even a more -deathlike hue to the face of the corpse, and throwing strange crossing -lights and shades upon features which remained convulsed even after -the agony of death was past. - -"Good God! Sir Philip, what is this I hear?" exclaimed Mr. Short -before he caught the whole particulars of the scene. - -Sir Philip Hastings made no answer. He did not even seem to hear; and -the surgeon advanced to the bedside, and gazed for an instant on the -face of Lady Hastings. He took her hand in his. It was still warm; but -when he put his fingers on her wrist, no pulse vibrated beneath his -touch. The heart, too, was quite still: not a flutter indicated a -lingering spark of vitality. The breath was gone; and though the -surgeon sought on the dressing-table for a small mirror, and applied -it to the lips, it remained undimmed. He shook his head sadly; but yet -he made some efforts. He took a vial of essence from his pocket, and -applied it to the nostrils; he opened a vein, and a few drops of blood -issued from it, but stopped immediately; and several other experiments -he tried, that not a lingering doubt might remain of death having -taken possession completely. - -At length he ceased, saying, "It is in vain. How did this happen? It -is very strange. There was not an indication of such an event -yesterday. She was decidedly better." - -"And so she was this morning, sir," said Lady, Hastings' maid; "she -slept quite well too, sir, before Mrs. Hazleton came." - -Sir Philip Hastings remained profoundly silent; but Mr. Short gave a -sudden start at the name of Mrs. Hazleton, and asked the maid when -that lady had left her mistress. - -"Not half an hour before her death, sir," replied the maid; "and even -for a little time after she was gone, my lady seemed quite well and -cheerful with Mistress Emily." - -"Were you with her when she was seized so suddenly?" asked the -surgeon. - -"No, sir," said the maid. "No one was with her but Mistress Emily. My -lady had sent me away for lights; but just when I was coming up the -stairs, I heard my young lady ringing the bell violently, and -screaming for help, and in two minutes after I came in my lady was -dead." - -"I must hear the first symptoms," said Mr. Short, "and this dear young -lady needs attending to. If I know her right, this shock will well -nigh kill her." - -He moved towards Emily as he spoke, but in passing across, his eye -lighted upon the vial which was standing upon the table at the -bedside, with the spoon and wine-glass which had been used in -administering the medicine. Something in the appearance of the bottle -seemed to strike him suddenly, and he raised it sharply and held it to -the candle. "Good God!" exclaimed Mr. Short; "Good God!" and his face -turned as pale as death, and a fit of trembling seized upon him. - -It was several moments before he uttered another word. He put his hand -to his brow, and seemed to think deeply and anxiously. Then he -examined the bottle again, took out the cork, held it to his nostrils, -tasted a single drop poured upon the end of his finger, and shook his -head sadly and solemnly. Every eye but those of the maid, who was -supporting Emily's head, was now turned upon him. There was something -in his manner so unusual, so strange, that even the attention of Sir -Philip Hastings was attracted by it; and he looked gloomily at the -surgeon for a moment, as if in a dreamy wonder at his proceedings. - -At length, Mr. Short spoke again. "Can any body tell me," he said, -"when Lady Hastings took a dose of this stuff?" - -No one remarked the irreverent term which he applied to the contents -of the vial; for every one who listened to him would probably have -given it the same name, had it been a mithridate; but the maid of the -deceased lady replied at once, "Only a few minutes before she died, -sir. I saw her take it myself." - -"Who gave it to her?" demanded the surgeon, sternly. - -"My young lady, sir," answered the maid, "just before I went for the -lights, and I am sure she did not give her a drop too much of it; for -she measured it out carefully in the spoon before she put it into the -glass." - -Mr. Short remained silent again, and Sir Philip Hastings spoke for the -first time with a great effort. - -"What is the matter, sir?" he asked, gloomily; "you seem confounded, -thunder-struck. What has befallen to draw your eyes from that?" and he -pointed to the bed of his dead wife. - -"I am bound to say, Sir Philip," replied Mr. Short, "that it is my -belief that the dose given to Lady Hastings from that bottle, has been -the cause of her death. In a word, I believe it to be poison." - -Sir Philip Hastings gazed in his face with a wild look of horror. His -teeth chattered in his head, his whole frame shook visibly to the eyes -of those around, but he uttered not a word, and it was the maid who -answered, exclaiming in a shrill voice, "Oh, how horrible! How could -you send my lady such stuff?" - -"I never sent it to her, woman!" said Mr. Short, sternly; "if you had -eyes you would see that it is not of the same color, nor has it the -same taste of that which I sent. It is different in every respect; and -if no other proof were wanting that which I sent Lady Hastings was -harmless, it would be sufficient to say, that the last vial I brought -was delivered to you yourself yesterday quite full, that Lady Hastings -ought to have taken four or five doses of that medicine between that -time and this, and----" - -"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the maid, interrupting him, "she took it quite -regularly. I saw Mistress Emily give her three doses myself." - -"Well, did those hurt her?" asked Mr. Short, sharply. - -"I can't say they did," replied the woman, "indeed she always seemed -better a little while after taking them." - -"Well that shows that this is not the same," said Mr. Short; "besides, -this bottle has never come out of my surgery. I always choose mine -perfectly clear and white, that I may be enabled to see if the -medicine is at all troubled or not. This has a green tinge, and must -have come from some common druggist's, and the stuff that it contains -must be strictly analyzed." - -As he spoke, Sir Philip Hastings strode up to him, grasped his hand, -and wrung it hard, saying in a hollow husky tone, and pointing to the -bottle, "What is it you mean? What is it all about? What is that?" - -"Poison! Sir Philip," replied Mr. Short, moved by the feelings of the -moment beyond all his ordinary prudence; "poison! and I very much fear -that it has been administered to your poor lady intentionally." - -"Gathering herbs!--gathering herbs!" screamed Sir Philip Hastings, -like a madman; and tearing the hair out of his head, he rushed away -from the room, and locked himself into his library. - -No one could tell to what his words alluded, nor did they trouble -themselves much to discover; for every one at once concluded that the -shock of his wife's sudden death, and the discovery of its terrible -cause, had driven him insane. - -"Oh, do run after my master, sir," cried the maid; "he has gone into -the library, I heard him bang the door." - -"Has he got any arms there?" asked Mr. Short, "there used to be -pistols at the Hall." - -"No, sir, no," exclaimed one of the housemaids, "they are not there. -They are in his dressing-room out yonder." - -"Well, then, I will leave him alone for the present," said the -surgeon; "here is one who demands more immediate care. Poor young -lady! If she should discover, in her present state of grief, how her -mother has died, and that her hand has been employed to produce such a -catastrophe, it will destroy either her life or her intellect." - -"But who could have done it, sir?" exclaimed Lady Hastings' maid. - -"Never you mind that for the present," said Mr. Short; "I have my -suspicions; but they are no more than suspicions at present. You stay -with me here, and let the other woman carry your poor young lady to -her room. I will be with her presently, and will give her what will do -her good. One of you, as soon as possible, send me up a man-servant--a -groom would be best." - -His orders were obeyed promptly; for he spoke with a tone of decision -and command which the terrible circumstances of the moment enabled him -to assume; although in ordinary circumstances he was a man of mild and -gentle character. - -As soon as poor Emily was borne away to her own chamber, Mr. Short -turned to the maid again, inquiring, "How long had Mistress Hazleton -gone when your mistress was seized with these fatal convulsions?" - -"About half an hour, sir," said the maid. "It couldn't have been -longer. Mrs. Hazleton came when my lady was asleep, and went in alone, -saying she would not disturb her." - -"Ha!" cried the surgeon; "was she with her for any time alone?" - -"All the time that she staid, sir," replied the maid; "for I did not -like to go in, and Mistress Emily was walking on the terrace up the -hill." - -"I suppose then you cannot tell how long Mrs. Hazleton remained alone -with your lady before she woke?" - -"Yes, I can pretty nearly, sir," answered the maid, "for though Mrs. -Hazleton told me not to come in with her, and said she would ring when -my lady waked, I came after her into the anteroom, and sat there all -the time. For about five minutes, or it might be ten, all was quiet -enough; but at the end of that time I heard my lady and Mrs. Hazleton -begin to speak." - -"You heard no other sounds previously?" asked the surgeon. - -"Nothing but the rustle of Mrs. Hazleton's gown, as she moved about -once or twice," said the maid, "and of that I can't be rightly sure." - -"You did not by chance look through the key-hole?" asked Mr. Short. - -"No, that I didn't," said the maid, tossing her head, "I never did -such a thing in my life." - -"Well, well. Get me a sheet of paper," replied the surgeon, "and a pen -and ink--oh, they are here are they?" But before he could sit down to -write, a groom crept in through the half-open door, and received -orders from the surgeon to saddle a horse instantly and return. Mr. -Short then sat down and wrote as follows: - -"Ma. ATKINSON:--As you are high constable of Hartwell, I write as a -justice of the peace for the county of ----, to authorize and require -you to follow immediately the carriage of The Honorable Mistress -Hazleton, to apprehend that lady and to keep her in your safe custody, -taking care that her person be immediately searched by some proper -person, and that any vials, bottles, powders, or other objects -whatsoever bearing the appearance of drugs or medicines, or of having -contained them, be carefully preserved, and marked for identification. -I have not time or menus to fill up a regular warrant; but I will -justify you in, and be responsible for, whatever you may do to insure -that Mrs. Hazleton has no means or opportunity allowed her of -concealing or making away with any thing she has carried away from -this house, where Lady Hastings has just deceased from the effects of -poison. You had better take the fresh horse of the bearer, and lose -not an instant in overtaking the carriage." - -He then signed his name just as the groom returned; but ere he gave -the man the paper he added in a postscript: - -"You had better search the carriage minutely, and make any preliminary -investigation that you may think fit before I arrive. The hints given -above will be sufficient for your guidance." - -"Take this paper immediately to Jenny Best's cottage," said Mr. Short -to the groom. "Ask if Mr. Atkinson is there. Should he be so, give it -to him, and let him take your horse if he requires it. Should you not -find him there, seek for him either at the house of Mr. Dixwell, or at -the farm close by. Should he be at neither of those places, follow him -on to his house near Hartwell at full speed. Do you understand?" - -"Oh, quite well, sir," said the groom, who was a shrewd, keen fellow; -and he left the room without more words. - -When he got down to the hall door, however, he thought he might as -well know more of his errand, and read the paper which he had received -with the butler and the foot man. A brief consultation followed -between them, and not a little horror and anger was excited by the -information they had gained from the paper, for Lady Hastings had been -well loved by her servants, and Mrs. Hazleton was but little loved by -any of her inferiors in station. - -"Go you on, John, as fast as possible," said the footman, "I'll get, a -horse and come after you as fast as possible with Harry; for this -grand dame has three servants with her, and mayn't choose to be taken -easily." - -"Ay, come along, come along," said the groom; "we'll run her down, -I'll warrant," and hurrying away he got to his horse's back. - -In the mean time Mr. Short had proceeded to the room of poor Emily -Hastings, whom he found recovering from her fainting fit, and sobbing -in the bitterness of grief. - -"Oh, Mr. Short," she said, "this is very terrible. There surely was -something wrong about that medicine, for my poor mother was taken ill -the moment she had swallowed it. She had had the same quantity three -times to-day before; but she said that it tasted strange and -unpleasant. It could not surely have been spoiled by keeping so short -a time, and that could not have killed her even if it had been so. -Pray do examine it." - -"I will, I will, my dear," replied Mr. Short kindly, "but I don't -think the medicine I sent could spoil, and if it did it could have no -evil effect. Now quiet yourself, my dear Mistress Emily; I am going to -give you a draught which will soothe your nerves, and fit you better -to bear all these terrible things." - -He then had recourse to the little store of medicines he usually -carried in his pocket, and administered first a stimulant and then a -somewhat powerful narcotic. For about ten minutes he remained seated -by Emily's bedside with her own maid standing at the foot, and during -that time the poor girl spoke once or twice, asking anxiously after -her father, and expressing a great desire to go to him. Gradually, -however, her eyelid's began to droop, her sentences remained -unfinished, and, in the end, she fell into a deep and profound sleep. - -"She will not wake for six or eight hours," said Mr. Short, addressing -the maid. "But when she does wake it would be better you should be -with her, my good girl. If you like, therefore, you can go and take -some rest in the meanwhile; but order yourself to be called at the end -of five hours." - -"If you are quite sure that she will remain asleep, sir," said the -maid, "I will lie down, for I am sure sorrow wearies one more than -work." - -"She won't wake," said Mr. Short, "for six hours at least. I will now -go and see Sir Philip," and descending the stairs he knocked at the -door of the library, thinking that probably he should find it locked. -The stern voice of Sir Philip Hastings, however, said "Come in," in a -wonderfully calm tone; and when the surgeon entered he found Sir -Philip seated at the library table, and apparently reading a Greek -book, the contents of which Mr. Short could not at all divine. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX. - - -I must now follow the groom on his road, first to the cottage of good -Jenny Best, where he learned that Mr. Atkinson had gone away some five -minutes before, and then to the house of the neighboring farm, where -he found the person he sought still seated on his horse, but talking -to the tenant at the door. - -"Here, Mr. Atkinson," cried the groom as he came up; "here's a note -for you from Mr. Short the surgeon--a sort of warrant, I believe; for -he's a justice of the peace, you know, as well as a surgeon. Read it -quick, Mr. Atkinson, read it quick; for it won't keep hot long; and if -that woman isn't caught I think I'll hang myself." - -"Bring us a light, farmer," said Mr. Atkinson, "quickly. What is all -this about, John?" - -"Why, Madam Hazleton has poisoned my lady, and she's as dead as a door -nail," said the groom, "that's all; and bad enough too. Zounds, I -thought she'd do some mischief; she was always so hard upon her -horses." - -"Good heaven!" exclaimed Mr. Atkinson, "you do not mean to say that -she has certainly poisoned Lady Hastings?" - -"Why, Mr. Short believes it, and every one believes it," answered the -groom. - -Mr. Atkinson might have endeavored to reduce the number comprised in -the term "every body" to its just proportions; but before he could do -so, the farmer returned with a light shaded from the wind by his hat; -and the good high constable of Hartwell, bending over his saddle, read -hurriedly Mr. Short's brief note. - -"What's the matter? what's the matter?" cried the farmer; and great -was his surprise and consternation to hear that Lady Hastings was -dead, and that strong suspicion existed of her having been poisoned by -Mrs. Hazleton. There is a stern, dogged love of justice, however, in -the English peasant, which rises into energy and excitement; and the -farmer was instantly heard calling for his horse. - -"Zounds, I'll ride with you, Atkinson," he said. "This great dame has -got so many servants, she may think fit to set the law at defiance; -but she must be taught that high people cannot poison other people any -more than low ones. But you go on; you go on. I'll catch you up, -perhaps. If not, I'll come in time, don't you be afraid." - -"I'm going along too," said the groom, "and two others are coming; so -if her tall men show fight, I think we'll leather their jackets." - -Away they went as fast as they could go, and to say truth, Mr. -Atkinson was not at all sorry to have some assistance; for without -ever committing any one act which could be characterized as criminal, -unjust, or wrong, within the knowledge of her neighbors, Mrs. -Hazleton had somehow impressed the minds of all who surrounded her -with the conviction, that hers was a most daring and remorseless -nature. The general world received their impression of her -character--and often a false one, be it good or evil--by her greater -and more important actions: the little circle that surrounds us forms -a slower but more certain judgment from minute but often repeated -traits. - -On rode Mr. Atkinson and the groom, as fast as their horses could -carry them. Wherever there was turf by the road-side they galloped; -and at the rate of progression made by carriages in that day, they -made sure they must be gaining very rapidly upon the object of their -pursuit. When first they set out it was very dark; but at the end of -twenty minutes, in which period they had ridden somewhat more than -four miles, the edge of the moon began to appear above the horizon, -and her light showed them well nigh another mile on the road before -them. Still no carriage was in sight, and the groom exclaimed, "Dang -it, Mr. Atkinson, we must spur on, or she will get home before we -catch her." - -It is impossible to run after any thing without feeling some of the -eagerness of the foxhound, and, it is not to be denied that Mr. -Atkinson shared in some degree in the impetuous spirit of the chase -with the groom. He said nothing about it, indeed; but he made his -spurs mark his horse's sides, and on they went up the opposite slope -at a quicker pace than ever. From the top was a very considerable -descent into the bottom of the valley; in which Hartwell is situated; -but the moon had not yet risen high enough to illuminate more than -half the scene, and darkness, doubly dark, seemed to have gathered -over the low grounds beneath the eyes of the two horsemen. - -Mr. Atkinson thought he perceived some large object below, moving on -towards Hartwell; but he could not be sure of it till he had descended -some way down the hill, when the carriage of Mrs. Hazleton, mounting a -little rise into the moonlight, became plainly visible to the eye. The -groom took off his cap and waved it, saying, "Tally ho!" but neither -he nor his companion paused in their rapid course, but went thundering -down at the risk of their necks, and of their horses' knees. The -carriage moved slowly; the pursuers went very fast: and at the end of -about four minutes they had reached and passed the two mounted -men-servants, who, as customary in those days, rode behind the -vehicle. Robberies on the highway were by no means uncommon; so that -it was the custom for the attendants upon a carriage to travel armed, -and Mrs. Hazleton's two men instantly laid their hands upon the -holsters of their pistols, when those too rapid riders passed them at -such a furious pace. Mr. Atkinson, however, was not a man to be easily -frightened from any thing he undertook, and wheeling his horse sharply -when in a little advance of the coachman, he exclaimed, "In the King's -name I command you to stop. I am James Atkinson, high constable of -Hartwell. You know me, sir; and I command you in the King's name to -stop!" - -"Why, Master Atkinson, what is all this about?" cried the coachman. -"There is nobody but Mrs. Hazleton here. Don't you know the carriage?" - -"Quite well," replied Mr. Atkinson; "but you hear what I say, and will -disobey at your peril. John, ride round to the other side, while I -speak to the lady here." - -Now Mrs. Hazleton had heard the whole of this conversation, and had -there been sufficient light, Mr. Atkinson, whose eye was turned -towards where she sat, would have seen her turn deadly pale. It might -naturally be supposed that in any ordinary circumstances she would -have directed her first attention to the side from which the sounds -proceeded; but so far from that being the case, she instantly put her -hand in her pocket, and was almost in the act of throwing something -into the road, when John the groom presented himself at the window, -and she stopped suddenly. - -"What is it, Mr. Atkinson?" she exclaimed, turning to the other -window, and speaking in a tone of high indignation. "Why do you -presume to stop my carriage on the King's highway?" - -"Because I am ordered, Madam, by lawful authority, so to do." replied -Mr. Atkinson. "I am sorry, Madam, to tell you that you must consider -yourself as a prisoner." - -Mrs. Hazleton would fain have asked upon what charge; but she did not -dare, and for a moment strength and courage failed her. It was but for -a moment, however, and in the next she exclaimed in a loud and more -imperious tone than ever, "This is a pretence for robbery or insult. -Drive on, coachman. Mathew--Rogerson--clear the way!" - -She reckoned wrongly, however, if she counted upon any great zeal in -her servants. The two men hesitated; for the King's name was a tower -of strength which they did not at all like to assail. Their mistress -repeated her order in an angry tone, and one of them, with habitual -deference to her commands, went so far as to cock the pistol which he -now held in his hand; but at that moment the adverse party received an -accession of strength which rendered all assistance hopeless. The -other two servants of Sir Philip Hastings came down the hill at full -speed, and a gentleman, followed by a servant, rode up from the side -of Hartwell, and addressed Mr. Atkinson by his name. - -"Ah, Mr. Marlow!" said Mr. Atkinson. "You come at a very melancholy -moment, sir, and to witness a very unpleasant scene; but, -nevertheless; I must require your assistance, sir, as this lady seems -inclined to resist the law." - -"What is the matter?" asked Marlow. "I hope there is no mistake here. -If I see rightly this is Mrs. Hazleton's carriage. What is she charged -with?" - -"Murder, sir," replied. Mr. Atkinson, who had been a little irritated -by the lady's resistance, and spoke more plainly than he might -otherwise have done. "The murder of Lady Hastings by poison." - -It was spoken. She heard the words clearly and distinctly. She -had been detected. Some small oversight--some accidental -circumstance--some precaution forgotten--some accidental word, or -gesture, had betrayed the dark secret, revealed the terrible crime. It -was all known to men, as well as to God, and Mrs. Hazleton sunk back -in the carriage overpowered by the agony of detection. - -"Oh, ho; here come the other men," said Mr. Atkinson, as the two -servants of Sir Philip Hastings rode up. "Now, coachman, drive on till -I tell you to stop. You, John, keep close to the other window, and -watch it well. I will take care of this one. The others come behind. -Mr. Marlow, you had perhaps better ride with us for half a mile or so; -for I must stop at the house of Widow Warmington, as I have orders to -make a strict search." - -"Oh, take me to my own house--take me to my own house," said Mrs. -Hazleton, in a faint tone. - -"I dare not venture to do that, Madam," said Mr. Atkinson; "for we are -nearly three miles distant, and accidents might happen by the way -which would defeat the ends of justice. I must have a full search made -at the very first place where I can procure lights. That will be at -Mrs. Warmington's; but she is a friend of your own, Madam, and you -will be received there with all kindness." - -Mrs. Hazleton did not reply; and the carriage drove on, Mr. Atkinson -keeping a keen watch upon one window, and the groom riding close to -the other. - -A few minutes brought them to the house of the shrewd widow, and the -bell was rung sharply by one of the servants. A woman servant appeared -in answer to the summons, and without asking whether her mistress was -at home, or not, Atkinson took the candle from her hand, saying, "Lend -me the light for a moment. I wish to light Mrs. Hazleton into the -house. Now, Madam, will you please to descend.--John, dismount, and -come round here; assist Mrs. Hazleton to alight, and come with us on -her other side." - -Mrs. Hazleton saw that she could not double or turn there. She -withdrew her hand from her pocket where she had hitherto held it, -resumed her forgotten air of dignity, and though, to say the truth, -she would rather have met her "dearest foe in heaven," than have -entered that house so escorted, she walked with a firm step and -dauntless eye, with the high constable on one side, and groom on the -other. - -"They shall not see me quail," she said to herself. "They shall not -see me quail. I know the worst, and I can meet it--I have had my -revenge." - -In the mean time, the maid had run in haste to tell her mistress the -marvels of the scene she had just witnessed, and Mrs. Warmington had -gathered enough, without divining the whole, to rejoice her with -anticipated triumph. The arrest of Shanks the attorney on a charge of -conspiracy and forgery, had set going the hundred tongues of Rumor, -few of which had spared the name of Mrs. Hazleton; and Mrs. -Warmington, at the worst, suspected that her dear friend was -implicated in the guilt of the attorney. That, however, was sufficient -to give the widow considerable satisfaction, for she had not forgotten -either some coldness and neglect with which Mrs. Hazleton had treated -her for some time, or her impatient and insolent conduct that morning; -and though upon the strength of her plumpness, and easy manners, -people looked upon Mrs. Warmington as a very good natured person, yet -fat people can be very vindictive sometimes. - -"Good gracious me, my dear, what is the matter?" exclaimed Mrs. -Warmington, as the prisoner was brought in, while Mr. Atkinson, in a -speaking to those behind, exclaimed, "Let no one touch or approach the -carriage till I return." - -Mrs. Hazleton made no answer to her dear friend's questions, and the -high constable, taking a little step forward, said, "I beg pardon, -Mrs. Warmington, for intruding into your house; but I have been -ordered to apprehend this lady, and to have her person and her -carriage strictly searched, without giving the opportunity for the -concealment or destruction of any thing. It seems to me that Mrs. -Hazleton has something bulky in that left hand pocket. As I do not -like to put my hand rudely upon a lady, may I ask you, Madam, to let -me see what that pocket contains?" - -Without the slightest hesitation, but with a good deal of curiosity, -Mrs. Warmington advanced at once and took hold of the rich silk -brocade of the prisoner's gown. - -"Out, woman!" cried Mrs. Hazleton, with the fire flashing from her -eyes; and she struck her. - -But Mrs. Warmington did not quit her hold or her purpose. "Good -gracious, what a termagant!" she exclaimed, and at once thrust her -right hand into the pocket, and drew forth the vial which had been -sent by the surgeon to Lady Hastings. - -"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Warmington. "Why, this is the very bottle I -saw you mixing stuff in this morning, when you seemed so angry and -vexed at my coming into the still-room.--No, it isn't the same either; -but it was one very like this, only darker in the the color." - -"Ha!" said Mr. Atkinson. "Madam, will you have the goodness to put a -mark upon that bottle by which you can know it again?--Scratch it with -a diamond or something." - -"Oh, poor I have no diamonds," said Mrs. Warmington. "My dear, will -you lend me that ring?" - -Mrs. Hazleton gave her a withering glance, but made no reply; and -Marlow pointed to two peculiar spots in the glass of the bottle, -saying, "By those marks it will be known, so that it cannot be -mistaken." His words were addressed to Mr. Atkinson; for he felt -disgusted and sickened by the heartless and insulting tone of Mrs. -Warmington towards her former friend. - -At the sound of his voice--for she had not yet looked at him--Mrs. -Hazleton started and looked round. It is not possible to tell the -feelings which affected her heart at that moment, or to picture with -the pen the varied expressions, all terrible, which swept over her -beautiful countenance like a storm. She remembered how she had loved -him. Perhaps at that moment she knew for the first time how much she -had loved him. She felt too, how strongly love and hate had been -mingled together by the fiery alchemy of disappointment, as veins of -incongruous metals have been mixed by the great convulsions of the -early earth. She felt too, at that moment, that it was this love and -this hate which had been the cause of her deepest crimes, and all -their consequences--the awful situation in which she there stood, the -lingering tortures of imprisonment, the agonies of trial, and the -bitter consummation of the scaffold. - -"Oh, Marlow, Marlow," she cried--in a tone for the first time -sorrowful--"to see you mingling in these acts!" - -"I have nothing to do with the present business, Mrs. Hazleton," -replied Marlow, "but I am bound to say that in consequence of -information I have procured, it would have been my duty to have caused -your apprehension upon other charges, had not this, of which I know -nothing, been preferred against you. All is discovered, madam all is -known. With a slight clue, at first, I have pursued the intricate -labyrinth of your conduct for the last two years to its conclusion, -and every thing has been made plain as day. - -"You, Marlow, you?" cried Mrs. Hazleton, fixing her eyes steadfastly -upon him, and then adding, as he bowed his head in token of assent, -"but all is not known, even to you. You shall know all, however, -before I die; and perhaps to know all may wring your heart, hard -though it be. But what am I talking of?" she continued, her face -becoming suddenly suffused with crimson, and her fine features -convulsed with rage. "All is discovered, is it? And you have done it -it? What matters it to me, then, whose heart is wrung--or what becomes -of you, or me, or any one? A drop more or less is nothing in the -overflowing well. Why should I struggle longer? Why should I hide any -thing? Why should I fly from this charge to meet another? I did it--I -poisoned her--I put the drug by her bedside. It is all true--I did it -all--I have had my revenge as far as it could be obtained, and now do -with me what you like. But remember, Marlow, remember, if Emily -Hastings marries you, she does it with a mother's curse upon her -head--a curse that will fall upon her heart like a mildew, and wither -it for ever--a curse that will dry up the source of all fond -affections, blacken the brightest hours, and embitter the purest -joys--a dying mother's curse! She knows it--she has heard it--it can -never be recalled. I have put that beyond fate. Ha ha! It is upon you -both; and if you venture to unite your unhappy destinies, may that -curse cling to you and blast you for ever." - -She spoke with all the vehemence of intense passion, breaking, for the -first time in life, through strong habitual self-control; and when she -had done, she cast herself into a chair, and covered her eyes with her -hands. - -She wept not; but her whole frame heaved and shivered, with the -terrible emotion that tore her heart. - -In the mean time, Marlow and Mrs. Warmington and the high constable -spoke upon it, consulting what was to be done with her. The prison -system of England was at that time as bad as it could be, and those -who condemned and abhorred her the most, were anxious to spare her as -long as possible the horrors of the jail. At length, after many -difficulties, and a good deal of hesitation, Mr. Atkinson agreed, at -the suggestion of Mrs. Warmington, to leave her in the house where she -then was, under the charge of a constable to be sent for from -Hartwell. There was a high upper room from which there was no -possibility of escape, with an antechamber in which the constable -could watch, and there he was determined to confine her till she could -be brought before the magistrate on the following day. - -"I must have her thoroughly searched in the first place," said Mr. -Atkinson; "for she may have some more of the poison about her, and in -her present state, after all she has confessed, she is just as likely -to swallow it as not. However, Mr. Marlow, you had better, I think, -ride on as fast as possible to see Sir Philip Hastings, and tell him -what has occurred here. If I judge rightly, your presence will be very -needful there." - -"It will indeed," said Marlow, a sudden vague apprehension of he knew -not what, seizing upon him; "God grant I have not tarried too long -already;" and quitting the room, he sprang upon his horse's back -again. - - - - -CHAPTER L. - -Sir Philip Hastings, I have said, was reading a Greek book when Mr. -Short entered the library. His face was grave, and very stern; but all -traces of the terrible agitation with which he had quited the side of -his wife's death-bed, were now gone from his face. He hardly looked up -when the surgeon entered. He seemed not only reading, but absorbed by -what he read. Mr. Short thought the paroxysm of grief was passed, and -that the mind of Sir Philip Hastings, settling down into a calm -melancholy, was seeking its habitual relief in books. He knew, as -every medical man must know, the various whimsical resources to which -the heart of man flies, as if for refuge, in moments of great -affliction. The trifles with which some will occupy themselves--the -intense abstraction for which others will labor--the imaginations, the -visions, the fancies to which others again will apply, not for -consolation, not for comfort; but for escape from the one dark -predominant idea. He said a few words to Sir Philip then, of a kindly -but somewhat commonplace character, and the baronet looked up, gazing -at him across the candles which stood upon the library table. Had Mr. -Short's attention been particularly called to Sir Philip's -countenance, he would have perceived at once, that the pupils of the -eyes were strangely and unnaturally contracted, and that from time to -time a certain nervous twitching of the muscles curled the lip, and -indented the cheek. But he did not remark these facts: he merely saw -that Sir Philip was reading: that he had recovered his calmness; and -he judged that that which might be strange in other men, might not be -strange in him. In regard to what he believed the great cause of Sir -Philip's grief, his wife's death, he thought it better to say nothing; -but he naturally concluded that a father would be anxious to hear of a -daughter's health under such circumstances, and therefore he told him -that Emily was better and more composed. - -Sir Philip made a slight, but impatient motion of the hand, but Mr. -Short went on to say, "As she was so severely and terribly affected, -Sir Philip, I have given Mistress Emily a composing draught, which has -already had the intended effect of throwing her into profound slumber. -It will insure her, I think, at least six, if not seven hours of calm -repose, and I trust she will rise better able to bear her grief than -she would be now, were she conscious of it." - -Sir Philip mattered something between his teeth which the surgeon did -not hear, and Mr. Short proceeded, saying, "Will you permit me to -suggest, Sir Philip, that it would be better for you too, my dear sir, -to take something which would counteract the depressing effect of -sorrow." - -"I thank you, sir, I thank you," replied Sir Philip, laying his hand -upon the book; "I have no need. The mind under suffering seeks -medicines for the mind. The body is not affected. It is well--too -well. Here is my doctor;" and he raised his hand and let it fall upon -the book again. - -"Well then, I will leave you for to-night, Sir Philip," said the -surgeon; "to-morrow I must intrude upon you on business of great -importance. I will now take my leave." - -Sir Philip rose ceremoniously from his chair and bowed his head; -gazing upon the surgeon as he left the room and shut the door, with a -keen, cunning, watchful look from under his overhanging eyebrows. - -"Ha!" he said, when the surgeon had left the room, "he thought to -catch me--to find out what I intended to do--slumber!--calm, tranquil -repose--so near a murdered mother! God of heaven!" and he bent down -his head till his forehead touched the pages of the book, and remained -with his face thus concealed for several minutes. - -It is to be remarked that not one person, with a single exception, to -whom the circumstances of Lady Hastings' death were known, even -dreamed of suspecting Emily. They all knew her, comprehended her -character, loved her, had faith in her, except her own unhappy father. -But with him, if the death of his unhappy wife were terrible, his -suspicions of his daughter were a thousand fold more so. To his -distorted vision a multitude of circumstances brought proof all -powerful. "She has tried to destroy her father," he thought, "and she -has not scrupled to destroy her mother. In the one case there seemed -no object. In the other there was the great object of revenge, with -others perhaps more mean, but not less potent. Try her cause what way -I will, the same result appears. The mother opposes the daughter's -marriage to the man she loves--threatens to frustrate the dearest wish -of her heart,--and nothing but death will satisfy her. This is, the -end then of all these reveries--these alternate fits of gloom and -levity. The ill balanced mind has lost its equipoise, and all has -given way to passion. But what must I do---oh God! what must I do?" - -His thoughts are here given, not exactly as they presented themselves; -for they were more vague, confused, and disjointed; but such was the -sum and substance of them. He raised his head from the book and -looked up, and after thinking for a moment or two he said, "This -Josephus--this Jew--gives numerous instances, if I remember right, of -justice done by fathers upon their children--ay, and by the express -command of God. The priest of the Most High was punished for yielding -to human weakness in the case of his sons. The warrior Jephtha spared -not his best beloved. What does the Roman teach? Not to show pity to -those the nearest to us by blood, the closest in affection, where -justice demands unwavering execution. It mast be so. There is but the -choice left, to give her over to hands of strangers, to add public -shame, and public punishment to that which justice demands, or to do -that myself which they must inevitably do. She must die--such a -monster must not remain upon the earth. She has plotted against her -father's life--she has colleagued with his fraudulent enemies--she has -betrayed the heart that fondly trusted her--she has visited secretly -the haunts of a low, vulgar ruffian--she has aided and abetted those -who have plundered her own parents--she has ended by the murder of the -mother who so fondly loved her. I--I am bound, by every duty to -society, to deliver it from one, who for my curse, and its bane, I -brought into the world. She must be put to death; and no hand but mine -must do it." - -He gazed gloomily down upon the table for several minutes, and then -paced the room rapidly with agony in every line of his face. He wrung -his hands hard together. He lifted up his eyes towards heaven, and -often, often, he cried out, "Oh God! Oh God! Is there no hope?--no -doubt?--no opening for pause or hesitation?" - -"None, none, none," he said at length, and sank down into his chair -again. - -His eye wandered round the room, as if seeking some object he -could not see, and then he murmured, "So beautiful--so young--so -engaging--just eighteen summers; and yet such a load of crime!" - -He bent his head again, and a few drops of agony fell from his eyes -upon the table. Then clasping his forehead tight with his hand, he -remained for several minutes thoughtful and silent. He seemed to grow -calmer; but it was a deceitful seeming; and there was a wild, -unnatural light in his eyes which, notwithstanding all the apparent -shrewdness of his reasoning--the seeming connection and clearness of -his argument, would have shown to those expert in such matters, that -there was something not right within the brain. - -At length he said to himself in a whisper, as if he was afraid that -some one should hear him, "She sleeps--the man said she sleeps--now is -the time--I must not hesitate--I must not falter--now is the time!" -and he rose and approached the door. - -Once, he stopped for a moment--once, doubt and irresolution took -possession of him. But then he cast them off; and moved on again. - -With a slow step, but firm and noiseless tread, he crossed the hall -and mounted the stairs. No one saw him: the servants were scattered: -there was no one to oppose his progress, or to say, "Forbear!" - -He reached his daughter's room, opened the door quietly, went in, and -closed it. Then he gazed eagerly around. The curtains were withdrawn: -his fair, sweet child lay sleeping calmly as an infant. He could see -all around. Father and child were there. There was no one else. - -Still he gazed around, seeking perhaps for something with which to do -the fatal deed! His eye rested on a packet of papers upon the table. -It contained those which Marlow had left with poor gentle Emily to -justify her to her father in case of need. - -Oh, would he but take them up! Would he but read the words within! - -He turns away--he steals toward the bed! Drop the curtain! I can write -no more. Emily is gone! - - - - -CHAPTER LI. - - -When Mr. Short, the surgeon, left the presence of Sir Philip Hastings, -he found the butler seated in an arm-chair in the hall, cogitating -sadly over all the lamentable events of the day. He was an old -servant of the family, and full of that personal interest in every -member of it which now, alas, in these times of improvement and -utilitarianism (or as it should be called, selfishness reduced to -rule), when it seems to be the great object of every one to bring men -down to the level of a mere machine, is no longer, or very rarely, met -with. He rose as soon as the surgeon appeared, and inquired eagerly -after his poor master. "I am afraid he is touched here, sir," he said, -laying his finger on his forehead. "He has not been at all right ever -since he came back from London, and I am sure, when he came down -to-night, calling out in such a way about gathering herbs, I thought -he had gone clean crazy." - -"He has become quite calm and composed now," replied Mr. Short; -"though of course he is very sad: but as I can do no good by staying -with him, I must go down to the farm for my horse, and ride away where -my presence is immediately wanted." - -"They have brought your horse up from the farm, sir," said the butler. -"It is in the stable-yard." - -Thither Mr. Short immediately proceeded, mounted, and rode away. When -he had gone about five miles, or perhaps a little more, he perceived -that two horsemen were approaching him rapidly, and he looked sharp -towards them, thinking they might be Mr. Atkinson and the groom. As -they came near, the outlines of the figures showed him that such was -not the case; but the foremost of the two pulled up suddenly as he was -passing, and Marlow's voice exclaimed, "Is that Mr. Short?" - -"Yes, sir, yes, Mr. Marlow," replied the surgeon. "I am very glad -indeed you have come; for there has been terrible work this day at the -house of poor Sir Philip Hastings. Lady Hastings is no more, and--" - -"I have heard the whole sad history," replied Marlow, "and am riding -as fast as possible to see what can be done for Sir Philip, and my -poor Emily. I only stopped to tell you that Mrs. Hazleton has been -taken, the vial of medicine found upon her, and that she has boldly -confessed the fact of having poisoned poor Lady Hastings. You will -find her and Atkinson, the high constable, at the house of Mrs. -Warmington.--Good night, Mr. Short; good night;" and Marlow spurred on -again. - -The delay had been very short, but it was fatal. - -When Marlow reached the front entrance of the court, he threw his rein -to the groom and without the ceremony of ringing, entered the house. -There was a lamp burning in the hall, which was vacant; but Marlow -heard a step upon the great staircase, and looked up. A dark shadowy -figure was coming staggering down, and as it entered the sphere of the -light in the hall, Marlow recognized the form, rather than the -features, of Sir Philip Hastings. His face was ashy pale: not a trace -of color was discernible in any part: the very lips were white; and -the gray hair stood ragged and wild upon his head. His haggard and -sunken eye fell upon Marlow; but he was passing onward to the library, -as if he did not know him, tottering and reeling like a drunken man, -when Marlow, very much shocked, stopped him, exclaiming, "Good God, -Sir Philip, do you not know me?" - -The unhappy man started, turned round, and grasped him tightly by the -wrist, saying, in a hoarse whisper, and looking over his shoulder -towards the staircase, "Do not go there, do not go there--come -hither--you do not know what has happened." - -"I do, indeed, Sir Philip," replied Marlow, in a soothing tone, "I -have heard--" - -"No, no, no, no!" said Sir Philip Hastings. "No one knows but I--there -was no one there--I did it all myself.--Come hither, I say!" and he -drew Marlow on towards the library. - -"He has lost his senses," thought Marlow. "I must try and soothe him -before I see my Poor Emily. I will try and turn his mind to other -things;" and, suffering himself to be led forward, he entered the -library with Sir Philip Hastings, who instantly cast himself into a -chair, and pressed his hands before his eyes. - -Marlow stood and gazed at him for a moment in silent compassion, and -then he said, "Take comfort, Sir Philip. Take comfort. I bring you a -great store of news; and what I have to tell will require great bodily -and mental exertions from you, to deal with all the painful -circumstances in which you are placed. I have followed out every -thread of the shameful conspiracy against you--not a turning of the -whole rascally scheme is undiscovered." - -"She had her share in that too," said Sir Philip, looking up in his -face, with a wild, uncertain sort of questioning look. - -"I know it," replied Marlow, thinking he spoke of Mrs. Hazleton, "She -was the prime mover in it all." - -Sir Philip wrung his hands tight, one within the other, murmuring "Oh, -God; oh, God!" - -"But," continued Marlow, "she will soon expiate her crimes; for she -has been taken, and proofs of her guilt found upon her, so strong and -convincing, that she did not think fit even to conceal the fact, but -confessed her crime at once." - -Sir Philip started, and grasped both the arms of the chair in which he -sat, tight in his thin white hands, gazing at Marlow with a look of -bewildered horror that cannot be described. Marlow went on, however, -saying, "I had previously told her, indeed, that I had discovered all -her dark and treacherous schemes--how she had labored to make this -whole family miserable--how she had attempted to blacken the character -of my dear Emily--imitated her handwriting--induced you to -misunderstand her whole conduct, and thrown dark hints and suspicions -in your way. She knew that she could not escape this charge, even if -she could conceal her guilt of to-day, and she confessed the whole." - -"Who--who--who?" cried Sir Philip Hastings, almost in a scream. "Of -whom are you talking, man?" - -"Of Mrs. Hazleton," replied Marlow. "Were you not speaking of her?" - -Sir Philip Hastings stretched forth his hands, as if to push him -farther from him; but his only reply was a deep groan, and, after a -moment's pause, Marlow proceeded, "I, thought you were speaking of -her--of her whose task it has been, ever since poor Emily's -ill-starred visit to her house, to calumniate and wrong that -dear innocent girl--to make you think her guilty of bitter -indiscretions, if not great crimes--who, more than any one, aided to -wrong you, and who now openly avows that she placed the poison in your -poor wife's room in order to destroy her." - -"And I have killed her!--and I have killed her!" cried Sir Philip -Hastings, rising up erect and tall--"and I have killed her!" - -"Good God, whom?" exclaimed Marlow, with his heart beating as if it -would burst through his side. "Whom do you mean, sir?" - -Sir Philip remained silent for a moment, pressing his hands tight upon -his temples, and then, answered in a slow, solemn voice, "Your -Emily--my Emily--my own sweet--" but he did not finish the sentence; -for ere the last words could be uttered, he fell forward on the floor -like a dead man. - -For an instant, stupified and horror-struck, Marlow remained -motionless, hardly comprehending, hardly believing what he had heard. -The next instant, however, he rushed out of the library, and found the -butler with the late Lady Hastings' maid, passing through the back of -the house towards the front staircase. - -"Which is Emily's room?" he cried,--"Which is Emily's room?" - -"She is asleep, sir," said the maid. - -"Which is her room?" cried Marlow, vehemently. "He is mad--he is -mad--your master is mad--he says he has killed her. Which is her -room?" and he darted up the staircase. - -"The third on the right, sir," cried the butler, following with the -maid, as fast as possible; and Marlow darted towards the door. - -A fit of trembling, however, seized him as he laid his hand upon the -lock. "He must have exaggerated," he said to himself. "He has been -unkind--harsh--he calls that killing her--I will open it gently," and -he and the two servants entered it nearly together. - -All was quiet. All was still. The light was burning on the table. -There was a large heavy pillow cast down by the side of the bed, and -the bed coverings were in some disorder. - -No need of such a stealthy pace, Marlow! You may tread firm and -boldly. Even your beloved step will not wake her. The body sleeps till -the day of judgment. The spirit has gone where the wicked cease from -troubling, and the weary are at rest. - -The beautiful face was calm and tranquil; though beneath each of the -closed eyes was a deep bluish mark, and the lips had lost their -redness. The fair delicate hands grasped the bed-clothes tightly, and -the whole position of the figure showed that death had not taken place -without a convulsive struggle. Marlow tried, with trembling hands, to -unclasp the fingers from the bed-clothes, and though he could not do -it, he fancied he felt warmth in the palms of the hands. A momentary -gleam of hope came upon him. More assistance was called: every effort -that could be suggested was made; but it was all in vain. -Consciousness--breath--life--could never be restored. There was not a -dry eye amongst all those around, when the young lover, giving up the -hopeless task, cast himself on his knees by the bedside, and pressed -his face upon the dead hand of her whom he had loved so well. - -Just at that moment the voice of Sir Philip Hastings was heard below -singing a stanza of some light song. It was the most horrible sound -that ever was heard! - -Two of the servants ran down in haste, and the sight of the living was -as terrible as that of the dead. Philip Hastings had recovered from -his fit without assistance, had raised himself, and was now walking -about the room with the same sort of zigzag, tottering step with which -he bad met Marlow on his return. A stream of blood from a wound which -he had inflicted on his forehead when he fell, was still pouring down -his face, rendering its deathlike paleness only the more ghastly. His -mouth was slightly drawn aside, giving a strange sinister expression -to his countenance; but from his eyes, once so full of thought and -intellect, every trace of reason had vanished. He held his hands -before him, and the fingers of the one beat time upon the back of the -other to the air that he was singing, and which he continued to sing -even after the entrance of the servants. He uttered not a word to them -on their appearance: he took not the slightest notice of them till the -butler, seeing his condition, took him by the arm, and asked if he had -not better go to bed. - -Then, Sir Philip attempted to answer, but his words when spoken were -indistinct as well as confused, and it became evident that he had a -stroke of palsy. The servants knew hardly what to do. Marlow they did -not dare to disturb in his deep grief: the surgeon was by this time -far away: their mistress, and her fair unhappy daughter were dead: -their master had become an idiot. It was the greatest possible relief -to them when they beheld Mr. Dixwell the clergyman enter the library. -Some boy employed about the stables or the kitchen, had carried down a -vague tale of the horrors to the Rectory; and the good clergyman, -though exhausted with all the fatigues and anxiety of the day, had -hurried down at once to see what could be done for the survivors of -that doomed family. He comprehended the situation of Sir Philip -Hastings in a moment; but he put many questions to the butler as to -what preceded the terrible event, the effects of which he beheld. The -old servant answered little. To most of the questions he merely shook -his heal sadly; but that mute reply was sufficient; and Mr. Dixwell, -taking Sir Philip by the hand, said, "You had better retire to rest, -sir--you are not well." - -Sir Philip Hastings gave an unmeaning smile, but followed the -clergyman mildly, and having seen him to a bedroom, and left him in -the hands of his servants, Mr. Dixwell turned his step towards the -chamber of poor Emily. - -Marlow had risen from his knees; but was still standing by the bedside -with his arms folded on his chest. His face was stern and sorrowful; -but perfectly calm. - -Mr. Dixwell approached quietly, and in a melancholy tone, addressed to -him some words of consolation--commonplace enough indeed, but well -intended. - -Marlow laid his hand upon the clergyman's arm, and pointed to Emily's -beautiful but ghastly face. He only added, "In vain!--Do what is -needful--Do what is right--I am incapable;" and leaving the room, he -descended to the library, where he closed the door, and remained in -silence and solitude till day broke on the following morning. - - - - -CHAPTER LII. - - -Mrs. Warmington became a person of some importance with the people of -Hartwell. All thoughts were turned towards her house. Everybody wished -they could get in and see and hear more; for the news had spread -rapidly and wide, colored and distorted; but yet falling far short of -the whole terrible truth. When Mr. Short himself arrived in town, he -found three other magistrates had already assembled, and that Mr. -Atkinson and Sir Philip Hastings' groom, John, were already giving -them some desultory and informal information as to the apprehension of -Mrs. Hazleton and its causes. The first consideration after his -appearance amongst them, was what was to be done with the prisoner; -for one of the justices--a gentleman of old family in the county, who -had not much liked the appointment of the surgeon to the bench, and -had generally found motives for differing in opinion with him ever -since--objected to leaving Mrs. Hazleton, even for the night, in any -other place than the common jail. The more merciful opinion of the -majority, however, prevailed. Atkinson gave every assurance that the -constable whom he had placed in charge of the lady was perfectly to be -depended upon, and that the room in which she was locked up, was too -high to admit the possibility of escape. Thus it was determined that -Mrs. Hazleton should be left where she was for the night, and brought -before the magistrates for examination at an early hour on the -following morning. - -Even after this decision was come to, however, the conversation or -consultation, if it may be so called, was prolonged for some time in a -gossiping, idle sort of way. Gentlemen sat upon the edge of the table -with their hats on, or leaned against the mantelpiece, beating their -boots with their riding-whips, and some marvelled, and some inquired, -and some expounded the law with the dignity and confidence, if not -with the sagacity and learning of a Judge. They were still engaged in -this discussion when the news of Emily's death was brought to -Hartwell, and produced a painful and terrible sensation in the breasts -of the lightest and most careless of those present. The man who -conveyed the intelligence brought also a summons to Mr. Short to -return immediately to Sir Philip Hastings, and only waiting to get a -fresh horse, the surgeon set out upon his return with a very sad and -sorrowful heart. He would not disturb Mr. Marlow; though he was -informed that he was in the library; but he remained with Sir Philip -Hastings himself during the greater part of the night, and only set -out for his own house to take a little repose before the meeting of -the magistrates, some quarter of an hour before the first dawn of day. - -Full of painful thoughts he rode on at a quick pace, till the yellow -and russet hues of the morning began to appear in the east. He then -slackened his pace a little, and naturally, as he approached the house -of Mrs. Warmington, he raised his eye towards the windows of the room -in which he knew that the beautiful demon, who had produced so much -misery to others and herself, had been imprisoned. - -Mr. Short was riding on but suddenly a sound met his ear, and as his -eyes ran down the building from the windows above, to a small plot of -grass which the lady of the house called the lawn, he drew up his -horse, and rode sharply up to the gate. - -But it is time now to turn to Mrs. Hazleton. Lodged in the upper -chamber which had been decided upon as the one fittest for their -purpose, by Mr. Atkinson and the rest, with the constable from -Hartwell domiciled in the anteroom, and the door between locked, Mrs. -Hazleton gave herself up to despair; for her state of mind well -deserved that name, although her feelings were very different from -those which are commonly designated by that name. Surely to feel that -every earthly hope has passed away--to see that further struggle for -any object of desire is vain--to know that the struggles which have -already taken place have been fruitless--to feel that their objects -have been base, unworthy, criminal--to perceive no gleam of light on -either side of the tomb--to have the present a wilderness, the future -an abyss, the past and its memories a hell--surely this is despair! It -matters not with what firmness, or what fierceness it may be borne: it -matters not what fiery passions, what sturdy resolutions, what weak -regrets, what agonizing fears, mingle with the state. This is despair! -and such was the feeling of Mrs. Hazleton. She saw vast opportunities, -a splendid position in society, wealth, beauty, wit, mind, -accomplishments, all thrown away, and for the gratification of base -passions exchanged for disgrace, and crime, and a horrible death. It -was a bad bargain; but she felt she had played her whole for revenge -and had lost; and she abode the issue resolutely. - -All these advantages which I have enumerated, and many more, Mrs. -Hazleton had possessed; but she wanted two things which are absolutely -necessary to human happiness and human virtue--heart and principle. -The one she never could have obtained; for by nature she was -heartless. The other might have been bestowed upon her by her parents. -But they had failed to do so; for their own proper principles had been -too scanty for them to bestow any on their daughter. Yet, strange to -say, the lack of heart somewhat mitigated the intensity of the lady's -sufferings now. She felt not her situation as bitterly as other -persons with a greater portion of sensibility would inevitably have -done. She had so trained herself to resist all small emotions, that -they had in reality become obliterated. Fiery passions she could feel; -for the earthquake rends the granite which the chisel will not touch, -and these affected her now as much as ever. - -At that very moment, as she sat there, with her head resting on her -hand, what is the meaning of that stern, knitted brow, that fixed, -steadfast gaze forward, that tight compression of the lips and teeth -At that moment Nero's wish was in the bosom of Mrs. Hazleton. Could -she have slaughtered half the human race to blot out all evidence of -her crimes, and to escape the grinning shame which she knew awaited -her, she would have done it without remorse. Other feelings, too, were -present. A sense of anger at herself for having suffered herself to be -in the slightest degree moved or agitated by any thing that had -occurred; a determined effort, too, was there--I will not call it a -struggle--to regain entire command of herself--to be as calm, as -graceful, as self-possessed, as dignified as when in high prosperity -with unsullied fame. It might be, in a certain sense, playing a part, -and doubtless the celebrated Madame Tiquet did the same; but she was -playing a part for her own eyes, as well as those of others. She -resolved to be firm, and she was firm. "Death," she said, "is before -me: for that I am prepared. It cannot agitate a nerve, or make a limb -shake. All other evils are trifles compared with this. Why then should -I suffer them to affect me in the least? No, no, they shall not see me -quail!" - -After she had thus thought for some two hours, gaining more and more -self-command every moment, as she turned and re-turned all the points -of her situation in her own mind, and viewed them in every different -aspect, she rose to retire to rest, lay down, and tried to sleep. At -first importunate thought troubled her. The same kind of ideas went -on--the same reasonings upon them--and slumber for more than one hour -would not visit her eyelids. But she was a very resolute woman, and at -length she determined that she would not think: she would banish -thought altogether; she would not let the mind rest for one moment -upon any subject whatsoever; and she succeeded. The absence of thought -is sleep; and she slept; but resolution ended where sleep begun, and -the images she had banished waking, returned to the mind in slumber. -Her rest was troubled. Growing fancies seemed to come thick upon her -mind; though the eyes remained closed, the features were agitated; the -lips moved. Sometimes she laughed; sometimes she moaned piteously; -sometimes tears found their way through her closed eyelids; and sobs -struggled in her bosom. - -At length, between three and four o'clock in the morning, Mrs. -Hazleton rose up in bed. She opened her eyes, too; but there was a -dull glassy look about them--a fixed leaden stare, not natural to her -waking hours. Slowly she got out of bed, approached the table, took up -a candle which she had left burning there, and which was now nearly -down to the socket, and walked straight to the door, saying aloud, -"Very dark--very dark--every thing is dark." - -She tried the door, but found it locked; and the constable slept on. -She then returned to the table, seated herself, and for some five or -ten minutes continued to twist her long hair round her fingers. She -then rose again, and went straight to the window, threw it up, and -seemed to look out. "Chilly--chilly," she said. "I most walk to warm -myself." - -The sill of the window was somewhat high, but that was no obstacle; -for there was a chair near, and Mrs. Hazleton placed it for herself -with as much care as if she had been wide awake. When this was done -she stepped lightly upon it, and put her knee upon the window-sill, -raised herself suddenly upright, and struck her head sharply against -the upper part of the window. It is probable that the blow woke her, -but at all events it destroyed her balance, and she fell forward at -once out of the window. - -There was a loud shriek, and then a deep groan. But the constable -slept on, and no one knew the fate that had befallen her 'till Mr. -Short, the surgeon, passing the house, was attracted to the spot where -she had fallen, by a moan, and the sight of a white object lying -beneath the window. - -A loud ringing of the bell, and knocking at the door, soon roused the -inhabitants of the house, and the mangled form of Mrs. Hazleton was -carried in and stretched upon a bed. She was not dead; and although -almost every bone was broken, except the skull, and the terrible -injuries she had received precluded all possibility of recovery, she -regained her senses before three o'clock of the same day, and -continued to linger for somewhat more than a fortnight in agonies both -of mind and body, too terrible to be described. With the rapid, though -gradual weakening of the corporeal frame, the powers of the mind -became enfeebled--the vigorous resolution failed--the self-command -abandoned her. Half an hour's death she could have borne with stoical -firmness, but a fortnight's was too much. The thoughts she could shut -out in vigorous health, forced themselves upon her as she lay there -like a crushed worm, and the tortures of hell got hold upon her, long -before the spirit departed. Yet a sparkle of the old spirit showed -itself even to her last hour. That she was conscious of an eternity, -that she was convinced of after judgment, of the reward of good, and -of the punishment of evil, that she believed in a God, a hell, a -heaven, there can be no doubt--indeed her words more than once implied -it--and the anguish of mind under which she seemed to writhe proved -it. But yet, she refused all religious consolation; expressed no -penitence: no sorrow for what she had done, and scoffed at the surgeon -when he hinted that repentance might avail her even then. It seemed -that, as with the earthly future, she had made up her mind at once, -when first detected, to meet her fate boldly; so with the judgment of -the immortal future, she was resolute to encounter it unbending. When -urged, nearly at her last hour, to show some repentance, she replied, -in the weak and faltering voice of death, but in as determined a tone -as ever, "It is all trash. An hour's repentance could do no good even -if I could repent. But I do not. Nobody does repent. They regret their -failure, are terrified by their punishment; but they and I would do -exactly the same again if we hoped for success and impunity. Talk to -me no more of it. I do not wish to think of hell till it has hold upon -me, if that should ever be." - -She said no more from that moment forward, and in about an hour after, -her spirit went to meet the fate she had so boldly dared. - -But few persons remain to be noticed in this concluding chapter, and -with regard to their after history, the imagination of the reader -might perhaps be left to deal, without further information. A few -words, however, may be said, merely to give a clue to their after -fate. - -The prosecution of Mr. Shanks, the attorney, was carried on but -languidly, and it is certain that he was not convicted of the higher -offence of forgery. On some charge, however, it would seem he was -sentenced to two years' imprisonment, and the last that is heard of -him, shows him blacking shoes at the inn in Carrington, then a very -old man, in the reign of George the First. - -Sir Philip Hastings never recovered his senses, not did he seem to -have any recollection of the horrible events with which his earthly -history may be said to have closed; but his life was not far extended. -For about six months he continued in the same lamentable state in -which we have last depicted him, sometimes singing, sometimes -laughing, and sometimes absorbed in deep melancholy. At the end of -that period, another paralytic stroke left him in a state of complete -fatuity, from which, in two years, he was relieved by death. - -If the reader will look into the annals of the reign of Queen Anne, he -will find frequent mention in the campaigns of Marlborough and Eugene, -of a Major, a Colonel, and a General Marlow. They were all the same -person; and they will find that officer often reported as severely -wounded. I cannot trace his history much farther; but the genealogies -of those times show, that in 1712, one Earl of Launceston died at the -age of eighty-seven, and was succeeded by the eighth Earl, who only -survived three years, and the title with him became extinct, as it is -particularly marked that he died unmarried. As this last of the race -is distinguished by the title of Lieutenant-General, the Earl of -Launceston, there can be no doubt that this was the lover and promised -husband of poor Emily Hastings. - -It is a sad tale, and rarely perhaps has any such tragedy darkened the -page of domestic history in England. A whole family were swept away, -and most of those connected with them, in a very short space of time; -but it is not the number of deaths within that period that gives its -gloominess to the page--for every domestic history is little but a -record of deaths--but the circumstances. Youth, beauty, virtue, -gentleness, kindness, honor, integrity, punctilious rectitude: reason, -energy, wisdom, sometimes, nay often, have no effect as a screen from -misfortune, sorrow, and death. Were this world all, what a frightful -chaos would human life be. But the very sorrows and adversities of the -good, prove that there is a life beyond, where all will be made even. - - - -THE END. - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man in Black, by -G. P. R. 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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 Man in Black - An Historical Novel of the Days of Queen Anne - -Author: G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford) James - -Release Date: February 11, 2016 [EBook #51174] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN IN BLACK *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by -Google Books (University of Minnesota) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> -1. Page scan source:<br> -https://books.google.com/books?id=GtVAAQAAMAAJ<br> -(University of Minnesota)</p> - -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE MAN IN BLACK.</h3> -<br> -<h5>AN</h5> - -<h4>Historical Novel of the Days of Queen Anne.</h4> -<br> -<h5>BY</h5> -<br> -<hr class="W90"> -<h3>G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.</h3> -<br> -<h5>AUTHOR OF "LORD MONTAGU'S PAGE," "THE CAVALIER," "ARRAN NEIL," "EVA<br> -ST. CLAIR," "MARY OF BURGUNDY," "PHILIP AUGUSTUS," ETC., ETC.</h5> -<hr class="W90"> -<br> -<br> -<hr class="W20"> -<h4>COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME.</h4> -<hr class="W20"> -<br> -<br> -<h3>Philadelphia:</h3> -<h4>T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS,<br> -306 CHESTNUT STREET.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<hr class="W90"> -<p class="center">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by<br> - -T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,<br> - -In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, to<br> -and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.</p> -<hr class="W90"> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE MAN IN BLACK.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER I.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Let me take you into an old-fashioned country house, built by -architects of the early reign of James the First. It had all the -peculiarities--I might almost say the oddities--of that particular -epoch in the building art. Chimneys innumerable had it. Heaven only -knows what rooms they ventilated; but their name must have been -legion. The windows were not fewer in number, and much more irregular: -for the chimneys were gathered together in some sort of symmetrical -arrangement, while the windows were scattered all over the various -faces of the building, with no apparent arrangement at all. Heaven -knows, also, what rooms they lighted, or were intended to light, for -they very little served the purpose, being narrow, and obstructed by -the stone mullions of the Elizabethan age. Each, too, had its label of -stone superincumbent, and projecting from the brick-work, which might -leave the period of construction somewhat doubtful--but the gables -decided the fact.</p> - -<p class="normal">They, too, were manifold; for although the house had been built all at -once, it seemed, nevertheless, to have been erected in detached -masses, and joined together as best the builder could; so that there -were no less than six gables, turning north, south, east, and west, -with four right angles, and flat walls between them. These gables were -surmounted--topped, as it were, by a triangular wall, somewhat higher -than the acute roof, and this wall was constructed with a row of -steps, coped with freestone, on either side of the ascent, as if the -architect had fancied that some man or statue would, one day or -another, have to climb up to the top of the pyramid, and take his -place upon the crowning stone.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a gloomy old edifice: the bricks had become discolored; the -livery of age, yellow and gray lichen, was upon it; daws hovered round -the chimney tops; rooks passed cawing over it, on the way to their -conventicle hard by; no swallow built under the eaves; and the trees, -as if repelled by its stern, cold aspect, retreated from it on three -sides, leaving it alone on its own flat ground, like a moody man -amidst a gay society. On the fourth side, indeed, an avenue--that is -to say, two rows of old elms--crept cautiously up to it in a winding -and sinuous course, as if afraid of approaching too rapidly; and at -the distance of some five or six hundred yards, clumps of old trees, -beeches, and ever-green oaks, and things of sombre foliage, dotted the -park, only enlivened by here and there a herd of deer.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now and then, a milk-maid, a country woman going to church or market, -a peasant, or at game-keeper, might be seen traversing the dry brown -expanse of grass, and but rarely deviating from a beaten path, which -led from one stile over the path wall to another. It was all sombre -and monotonous: the very spirit of dulness seemed to hang over it; and -the clouds themselves--the rapid sportive clouds, free denizens of the -sky, and playmates of the wind and sunbeam--appeared to grow dull and -tardy, as they passed across the wide space open to the view, and to -proceed with awe and gravity, like timid youth in the presence of -stern old age.</p> - -<p class="normal">Enough of the outside of the house. Let me take you into the interior, -reader, and into one particular room--not the largest and the finest; -but one of the highest. It was a little oblong chamber, with one -window, which was ornamented--the only ornament the chamber had--with -a decent curtain of red and white checked linen. On the side next the -door, and between it and the western wall, was a small bed. A -walnut-tree table and two or three chairs were near the window. In one -corner stood a washing-stand, not very tidily arranged, in another -chest of drawers; and opposite the fire-place, hung from nails driven -into the wall, two or three shelves of the same material as the table, -each supporting a row of books, which, by the dark black covers, brown -edges, and thumbed corners, seemed to have a right to boast of some -antiquity and much use.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the table, as you perceive, there is seated a boy of some fifteen -years of age, with pen and ink and paper, and an open book. If you -look over his shoulder, you will perceive that the words are Latin. -Yet he reads it with ease and facility, and seeks no aid from the -dictionary. It is the "Cato Major" of Cicero. Heaven! what a book for -a child like that to read! Boyhood studying old age!</p> - -<p class="normal">But let us turn from the book, and examine the lad himself more -closely. See that pale face, with a manlike unnatural gravity upon it. -Look at that high broad brow, towering as a monument above the eyes. -Remark those eyes themselves, with their deep eager thought; and then -the gleam in them--something more than earnestness, and less than -wildness--a thirsty sort of expression, as if they drank in that they -rested on, and yet were unsated.</p> - -<p class="normal">The brow rests upon the pale fair hand, as if requiring something to -support the heavy weight of thoughts with which the brain is burdened. -He marks nothing but the lines of that old book. His whole soul is in -the eloquent words. He hears not the door open; he sees not that tall, -venerable, but somewhat stiff and gaunt figure, enter and approach -him. He reads on, till the old man's Geneva cloak brushes his arm, and -his hand is upon his shoulder. Then he starts up--looks around--but -says nothing. A faint smile, pleasant yet grave, crosses his finely -cut lip; but that is the only welcome, as he raises his eyes to the -face that bends over him. Can that boy in years be already aged in -heart?</p> - -<p class="normal">It is clear that the old man--the old clergyman, for so he evidently -is--has no very tender nature. Every line of his face forbids the -supposition. The expression itself is grave, not to say stern. There -is powerful thought about it, but small gentleness. He seems one of -those who have been tried and hardened in some one of the many fiery -furnaces which the world provides for the test of men of strong minds -and strong hearts. There has been much persecution in the land; there -have been changes, from the rigid and severe to the light and -frivolous--from the light and frivolous to the bitter and cruel. There -have been tyrants of all shapes and all characters within the last -forty years, and fools, and knaves, and madmen, to cry them on in -every course of evil. In all these chances and changes, what fixed and -rigid mind could escape the fangs of persecution and wrong? He had -known both; but they had changed him little. His was originally an -unbending spirit: it grew more tough and stubborn by the habit of -resistance; but its original bent was still the same.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fortune--heaven's will--or his own inclination, had denied him wife or -child; and near relation he had none. A friend he had: that boy's -father, who had sheltered him in evil times, protected him as far as -possible against the rage of enemies, and bestowed upon him the small -living which afforded him support. He did his duty therein -conscientiously, but with a firm unyielding spirit, adhering to the -Calvinistic tenets which he had early received, in spite of the -universal falling off of companions and neighbors. He would not have -yielded an iota to have saved his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">With all his hardness, he had one object of affection, to which all -that was gentle in his nature was bent. That object wits the boy by -whom he now stood, and for whom he had a great--an almost parental -regard. Perhaps it was that he thought the lad not very well treated; -and, as such had been his own case, there was sympathy in the matter. -But besides, he had been intrusted with his education from a very -early period, had taken a pleasure in the task, had found his scholar -apt, willing, and affectionate, with a sufficient touch of his own -character in the boy to make the sympathy strong, and yet sufficient -diversity to interest and to excite.</p> - -<p class="normal">The old man was tenderer toward him than toward any other being upon -earth; and he sometimes feared that his early injunctions to study and -perseverance were somewhat too strictly followed--even to the -detriment of health. He often looked with some anxiety at the -increasing paleness of the cheek, at the too vivid gleam of the eye, -at the eager nervous quivering of the lip, and said within himself, -"This is overdone."</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not like to check, after he had encouraged--to draw the rein -where he had been using the spur. There is something of vanity in us -all, and the sternest is not without that share which makes man shrink -from the imputation of error, even when made by his own heart. He did -not choose to think that the lad had needed no urging forward and yet -he would fain have had him relax a little more, and strove at times to -make him do so. But the impulse had been given: it had carried the -youth over the difficulties and obstacles in the way to knowledge, and -now he went on to acquire it, with an eagerness, a thirst, that had -something fearful in it. A bent, too, had been given to his mind--nay, -to his character, partly by the stern uncompromising character of him -to whom his education had been solely intrusted, partly by his own -peculiar situation, and partly by the subjects on which his reading -had chiefly turned.</p> - -<p class="normal">The stern old Roman of the early republic; the deeds of heroic -virtue--as virtue was understood by the Romans; the sacrifice of all -tender affections, all the sensibilities of our nature to the rigid -thought of what is right; the remorseless disregard of feelings -implanted by God, when opposed to the notion of duties of man's -creation, excited his wonder and his admiration, and would have -hardened and perverted his heart, had not that heart been naturally -full of kindlier affections. As it was, there often existed a -struggle--a sort of hypothetical struggle--in his bosom, between the -mind and the heart. He asked himself sometimes, if he could sacrifice -any of those he knew and loved--his father, his mother, his brother, -to the good of his country, to some grave duty; and he felt pained and -roused to resistance of his own affections when he perceived what a -pang it would cost him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet his home was not a very happy one; the kindlier things of domestic -life had not gathered green around him. His father was varying and -uneven in temper, especially toward his second son; sometimes stern -and gloomy, sometimes irascible almost to a degree of insanity. -Generous, brave, and upright, he was; but every one said, that a wound -he had received on the head in the wars, had marvelously increased the -infirmities of his temper.</p> - -<p class="normal">The mother, indeed, was full of tenderness and gentleness; and -doubtless it was through her veins that the milk of human kindness had -found its way into that strange boy's heart. But yet she loved her -eldest son best, and unfortunately showed it.</p> - -<p class="normal">The brother was a wild, rash, reckless young man, some three years -older; fond of the other, yet often pleased to irritate--or at least -to try, for he seldom succeeded. He was the favorite, however, -somewhat spoiled, much indulged; and whatever was done, was done for -him. He was the person most considered in the house; his were the -parties of pleasure: his the advantages. Even now the family was -absent, in order to let him see the capital of his native land, to -open his mind to the general world, to show him life on a more -extended scale than could be done in the country; and his younger -brother was left at home, to pursue his studies in dull solitude.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet he did not complain; there was not even a murmur at his heart. He -thought it all quite right. His destiny was before him. He was to -form his fortune for himself, by his own abilities, his own learning, -his own exertions. It was needful he should study, and his greatest -ambition for the time was to enter with distinction at the University; -his brightest thoughts of pleasure, the comparative freedom and -independence of a collegiate life.</p> - -<p class="normal">Not that he did not find it dull; that gloomy old house, inhabited by -none but himself and few servants. Sometimes it seemed to oppress him -with a sense of terrible loneliness; sometimes it drove him to think -of the strange difference of human destinies, and why it should be -that--because it had pleased Heaven one man should be born a little -sooner or a little later than another, or in some other place--such a -wide interval should be placed between the different degrees of -happiness and fortune.</p> - -<p class="normal">He felt, however, that such speculations were not good; they led him -beyond his depth; he involved himself in subtilties more common in -those days than in ours; he lost his way; and with passionate -eagerness flew to his books, to drive the mists and shadows from his -mind. Such had been the case even now: and there he sat, unconscious -that a complete and total change was coming over his destiny.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oh, the dark workshop of Fate! what strange things go on therein, -affecting human misery and joy, repairing or breaking shackles for the -mind, the means of carrying us forward in a glorious cause, the -relentless weights which hurry us down to destruction! While you sit -there and read--while I sit here and write, who can say what strange -alterations, what combinations in the must discrepant things may be -going on around--without our will, without our knowledge--to alter the -whole course of our future existence? Doubtless, could man make his -own fate, he would mar it; and the impossibility of doing so is good. -The freedom of his own actions is sufficient, nay, somewhat too much; -and it is well for the world, aye, and for himself--that there is an -overruling Providence which so shapes circumstances around him, that -he cannot go beyond his limit, flutter as he will.</p> - -<p class="normal">There is something in that old man's face more than is common with -him--a deeper gravity even than ordinary, yet mingled with a -tenderness that is rare. There is something like hesitation, -too--ay, hesitation even in him who during a stormy life has seldom -known what it is to doubt or to deliberate: a man of strict and ready -preparation, whose fixed, clear, definite mind was always prompt and -competent to act.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, Philip, my son," he said, laying his hand, as I have stated, on -the lad's shoulder, "enough of study for to-day. You read too hard. -You run before my precepts. The body must have thought as well as the -mind; and if you let the whole summer day pass without exercise, you -will soon find that under the weight of corporeal sickness the -intellect will flag and the spirit droop. I am going for a walk. Come -with me; and we will converse of high things by the way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Study is my task and my duty, sir." replied the boy; "my father tells -me so, you have told me so often, and as for health I fear not. I seem -refreshed when I get up from reading, especially such books as this. -It is only when I have been out long, riding or walking, that I feel -tired."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A proof that you should ride and walk the more," replied the old man. -"Come, put on your hat and cloak. You shall read no more to-day. There -are other thoughts before you; you know, Philip," he continued, "that -by reading we get but materials, which we must use to build up an -edifice in our own minds. If all our thoughts are derived from others -gone before us, we are but robbers of the dead, and live upon labors -not our own."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Elder sons," replied the boy, with a laugh, "who take an inheritance -for which they toiled not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Something worse than that," replied the clergyman, "for we gather -what we do not employ rightly--what we have every right to possess, -but upon the sole condition of using well. Each man possessed of -intellect is bound to make his own mind, not to have it made for him; -to adapt it to the times and circumstances in which he lives, squaring -it by just rules, and employing the best materials he can find."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, sir, I am ready," replied the youth, after a moment of deep -thought; and he and his old preceptor issued forth together down the -long staircase, with the slant sunshine pouring through the windows -upon the unequal steps, and illuminating the motes in the thick -atmosphere we breathe, like fancy brightening the idle floating things -which surround us in this world of vanity.</p> - -<p class="normal">They walked across the park toward the stile. The youth was silent, -for the old man's last words seemed to have awakened a train of -thought altogether new.</p> - -<p class="normal">His companion was silent also; for there was something working within -him which embarrassed and distressed him. He had something to tell -that young man, and he knew not how to tell it. For the first time in -his life he perceived, from the difficulty he experienced in deciding -upon his course, how little he really knew of his pupil's character. -He had dealt much with his mind, and that he comprehended well--its -depth, its clearness, its powers; but his heart and disposition he had -not scanned so accurately. He had a surmise, indeed, that there were -feelings strong and intense within; but he thought that the mind ruled -them with habitual sway that nothing could shake. Yet he paused and -pondered; and once he stopped, as if about to speak, but went on again -and said nothing.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, as they approached the park wall, he laid his finger on his -temple, muttering to himself, "Yes, the quicker the better. 'Tis well -to mingle two passions. Surprise will share with grief--if much grief -there be." Then turning to the young man, he said, "Philip, I think -you loved your brother Arthur?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke loudly, and in plain distinct tones; but the lad did not seem -to remark the past tense he used. "Certainly, sir," he said, "I love -him dearly. What of that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you will be very happy to hear," replied the old man, "that he -had been singularly fortunate--I mean that he has been removed from -earth and all its allurements--the vanities, the sins, the follies of -the world in which he seemed destined to move, before he could be -corrupted by its evils, or his spirit receive a taint from its vices."</p> - -<p class="normal">The young man turned and gazed on him with inquiring eyes, as if still -he did not comprehend what he meant.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was drowned," said the clergyman, "on Saturday last, while sailing -with a party of pleasure on the Thames;" and Philip fell at his feet -as senseless as if he had shot him.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER II.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">I must not dwell long upon the youthful scenes of the lad I -have just -introduced to the reader; but as it is absolutely needful that his -peculiar character should be clearly understood, I must suffer it to -display itself a little farther before I step from his boyhood to his -maturity.</p> - -<p class="normal">We left Philip Hastings senseless upon the ground, at the feet of his -old preceptor, struck down by the sudden intelligence he had received, -without warning or preparation.</p> - -<p class="normal">The old man was immeasurably shocked at what he had done, and he -reproached himself bitterly; but he had been a man of action all his -life, who never suffered thought, whether pleasant or painful, to -impede him. He could think while he acted, and as he was a strong man -too, he had no great difficulty in taking the slight, pale youth up in -his arms, and carrying him over the park stile, which was close at -hand, as the reader may remember. He had made up his mind at once to -bear his young charge to a small cottage belonging to a laborer on the -other side of the road which ran under the park wall; but on reaching -it, he found that the whole family were out walking in the fields, and -both doors and windows were closed.</p> - -<p class="normal">This was a great disappointment to him, although there was a very -handsome house, in modern taste, not two hundred yards off. But there -were circumstances which made him unwilling to bear the son of Sir -John Hastings to the dwelling of his next neighbor. Next neighbors are -not always friends; and even the clergyman of the parish may have his -likings and dislikings.</p> - -<p class="normal">Colonel Marshal and Sir John Hastings were political opponents. The -latter was of the Calvinistic branch of the Church of England--not -absolutely a non-juror, but suspected even of having, a tendency that -way. He was sturdy and stiff in his political opinions, too, and had -but small consideration for the conscientious views and sincere -opinions of others. To say the truth, he was but little inclined to -believe that any one who differed from him had conscientious views or -sincere opinions at all; and certainly the demeanor, if not the -conduct, of the worthy Colonel did not betoken any fixed notion or -strong principles. He was a man of the Court--gay, lively, even witty, -making a jest of most things, however grave and worthy of reverence. -He played high, generally won, was shrewd, complaisant, and particular -in his deference to kings and prime ministers. Moreover, he was of the -very highest of the High Church party--so high, indeed, that those who -belonged to the Low Church party, fancied he must soon topple over -into Catholicism.</p> - -<p class="normal">In truth, I believe, had the heart of the Colonel been very strictly -examined, it would have been found very empty of anything like real -religion. But then the king was a Roman Catholic, and it was pleasant -to be as near him as possible.</p> - -<p class="normal">It may be asked, why then did not the Colonel go the same length as -his Majesty? The answer is very simple. Colonel Marshal was a shrewd -observer of the signs of the times. At the card table, after the three -first cards were played, he could tell where every other card in the -pack was placed. Now in politics he was nearly as discerning; and he -perceived that, although King James had a great number of honors in -his hand, he did not hold the trumps, and would eventually lose the -game. Had it been otherwise, there is no saying what sort of religion -he might have adopted. There is no reason to think that -Transubstantiation would have stood in the way at all; and as for the -Council of Trent, he would have swallowed it like a roll for his -breakfast.</p> - -<p class="normal">For this man, then, Sir John Hastings had both a thorough hatred and a -profound contempt, and he extended the same sensations to every member -of the family. In the estimation of the worthy old clergyman the -Colonel did not stand much higher; but he was more liberal toward the -Colonel's family. Lady Annabelle Marshal, his wife, was, when in the -country, a very regular attendant at his church. She had been -exceedingly beautiful, was still handsome, and she had, moreover, a -sweet, saint-like, placid expression, not untouched by melancholy, -which was very winning, even in an old man's eyes. She was known, too, -to have made a very good wife to a not very good husband; and, to say -the truth, Dr. Paulding both pitied and esteemed her. He went but -little to the house, indeed, for Colonel Marshal was odious to him; -and the Colonel returned the compliment by never going to the church.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such were the reasons which rendered the thought of carrying young -Philip Hastings up to The Court--as Colonel Marshal's house was -called--anything but agreeable to the good clergyman. But then, what -could he do? He looked in the boy's face. It was like that of a -corpse. Not a sign of returning animation showed itself. He had heard -of persons dying under such sudden affections of the mind; and so -still, so death-like, was the form and countenance before him, as he -laid the lad down for a moment on the bench at the cottage door, that -his heart misgave him, and a trembling feeling of dread came over his -old frame. He hesitated no longer, but after a moment's pause to gain -breath, caught young Hastings up in his arms again, and hurried away -with him toward Colonel Marshal's house.</p> - -<p class="normal">I have said that is was a modern mansion; that is to imply, that it -was modern in that day. Heaven only knows what has become of it now; -but Louis Quatorze, though he had no hand in the building of it, had -many of its sins to answer for--and the rest belonged to Mansard. It -was the strangest possible contrast to the old-fashioned country seat -of Sir John Hastings, who had his joke at it, and at the owner -too--for he, too, could jest in a bitter way--and he used to say that -he wondered his neighbor had not added his own name to the building, -to distinguish it from all other courts; and then it would have been -Court Marshal. Many were the windows of the house; many the ornaments; -pilasters running up between the casements, with sunken panels, -covered over with quaint wreaths of flowers, as if each had an -embroidered waistcoat on; and a large flight of steps running down -from the great doorway, decorated with Cupids and cornucopias running -over with this most indigestible kind of stone-fruit.</p> - -<p class="normal">The path from the gates up to the house was well graveled, and ran in -and out amongst sundry parterres, and basins of water, with the -Tritons, &c., of the age, all spouting away as hard as a large -reservoir on the top of the neighboring slope could make them. But for -serviceable purposes these basins were vain, as the water was never -suffered to rise nearly to the brim; and good Dr. Paulding gazed on -them without hope, as he passed on toward the broad flight of steps.</p> - -<p class="normal">There, however, he found something of a more comfortable aspect. The -path he had been obliged to take had one convenience to the dwellers -in the mansion. Every window in that side of the house commanded a -view of it, and the Doctor and his burden were seen by one pair of -eyes at least.</p> - -<p class="normal">Running down the steps without any of the frightful appendages of the -day upon her head, but her own bright beautiful hair curling wild like -the tendrils of a vine, came a lovely girl of fourteen or fifteen, -just past the ugly age, and blushing in the spring of womanhood. There -was eagerness and some alarm in her face: for the air and haste of the -worthy clergyman, as well as the form he carried in his arms, spoke as -plainly as words could have done that some accident had happened; and -she called to him, at some distance, to ask what was the matter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Matter, child! matter!" cried the clergyman, "I believe I have half -killed this poor boy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Killed him!" exclaimed the girl, with a look of doubt as well as -surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, Mistress Rachael," replied the old man, "killed him by unkindly -and rashly telling him of his brother's death, without preparation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You intended it for kind, I am sure," murmured the girl in a sweet -low tone, coming down the steps, and gazing on his pale face, while -the clergyman carried the lad up the steps.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, Miss Marshal, do not stay staring," said Dr. Paulding; "but -pray call some of the lackeys, and bid them bring water or hartshorn, -or something. Your lady-mother must have some essences to bring -folks out of swoons. There is nothing but swooning at Court, I am -told--except gaming, and drinking, and profanity."</p> - -<p class="normal">The girl was already on her way, but she looked back, saying, "My -father and mother are both out; but I will soon find help."</p> - -<p class="normal">When the lad opened his eyes, there was something very near, which -seemed to him exceedingly beautiful--rich, warm coloring, like that of -a sunny landscape; a pair of liquid, tender eyes, deeply fringed and -full of sympathy; and the while some sunny curls of bright brown hair -played about his cheek, moved by the hay-field breath of the sweet -lips that bent close over him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where am I?" he said. "What is the matter? What has happened? Ah! now -I recollect. My brother--my poor brother! Was it a dream?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush, hush!" said a musical voice. "Talk to him, sir. Talk to him, -and make him still."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is but too true, my dear Philip," said the old clergyman; "your -brother is lost to us. But recollect yourself, my son. It is weak to -give way in this manner. I announced your misfortune somewhat -suddenly, it is true, trusting that your philosophy was stronger than -it is--your Christian fortitude. Remember, all these dispensations are -from the hand of the most merciful God. He who gives the sunshine, -shall he not bring the clouds? Doubt not that all is merciful; and -suffer not the manifestations of His will to find you unprepared or -unsubmissive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been very weak," said the young man, "but it was so sudden! -Heaven! how full of health and strength he looked when he went away! -He was the picture of life--almost of immortality. I was but as a reed -beside him--a weak, feeble reed, beside a sapling oak."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'One shall be taken, and the other left,'" said the sweet voice of -the young girl; and the eyes both of the youth and the old clergyman -turned suddenly upon her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip Hastings raised himself upon his arm, and seemed to meditate -for a moment or two. His thoughts were confused and indistinct. He -knew not well where he was. The impression of what had happened was -vague and indefinite. As eyes which have been seared by the lightning, -his mind, which had lost the too vivid impression, now perceived -everything in mist and confusion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been very weak," he said, "too weak. It is strange. I thought -myself firmer. What is the use of thought and example, if the mind -remains thus feeble? But I am better now I will never yield thus -again;" and flinging himself off the sofa on which they had laid him, -he stood for a moment on his feet, gazing round upon the old clergyman -and that beautiful young girl, and two or three servants who had been -called to minister to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">We all know--at least, all who have dealt with the fiery things of -life--all who have felt and suffered, and struggled and conquered, and -yielded and grieved, and triumphed in the end--we all know how -short-lived are the first conquests of mind over body, and how much -strength and experience it requires to make the victory complete. To -render the soul the despot, the tyranny must be habitual.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip Hastings rose, as I have said, and gazed around him. He -struggled against the shock which his mere animal nature had received, -shattered as it had been by long and intense study, and neglect of all -that contributes to corporeal power. But everything grew hazy to his -eyes again. He felt his limbs weak and powerless; even his mind -feeble, and his thoughts confused. Before he knew what was coming, he -sunk fainting on the sofa again, and when he woke from the dull sort -of trance into which he had fallen, there were other faces around him; -he was stretched quietly in bed in a strange room, a physician and a -beautiful lady of mature years were standing by his bedside, and he -felt the oppressive lassitude of fever in every nerve and in every -limb.</p> - -<p class="normal">But we must turn to good Doctor Paulding. He went back to his rectory -discontented with himself, leaving the lad in the care of Lady -Annabelle Marshal and her family. The ordinary--as the man who carried -the letters, was frequently called in those days--was to depart in an -hour, and he knew that Sir John Hastings expected his only remaining -eon in London to attend the body of his brother down to the family -burying place. It was impossible that the lad could go, and the old -clergyman had to sit down and write an account of what had occurred.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was nothing upon earth, or beyond the earth, which would have -induced him to tell a lie. True, his mind might be subject to such -self-deceptions as the mind of all other men. He might be induced to -find excuses to his own conscience for anything he did that was -wrong--for any mistake or error in judgment; for, willfully, he never -did what was wrong; and it was only by the results that he knew it. -But yet he was eagerly, painfully upon his guard against himself. He -knew the weakness of human nature--he had dealt with it often, and -observed it shrewdly, and applied the lesson with bitter severity to -his own heart, detecting its shrinking from candor, its hankering -after self-defense, its misty prejudices, its turnings and windings to -escape conviction; and he dealt with it as hardly as he would have -done with a spoiled child.</p> - -<p class="normal">Calmly and deliberately he sat down to write to Sir John Hastings a -full account of what had occurred, taking more blame to himself than -was really his due. I have his feet, gazing round upon the old -clergyman called it a full account, though it occupied but one page of -paper, for the good doctor was anything but profuse of words; and -there are some men who can say much in small space. He blamed himself -greatly, anticipating reproach; but the thing which he feared the most -to communicate was the fact that the lad was left ill at the house of -Colonel Marshal, and at the house of a man so very much disliked by -Sir John Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">There are some men--men of strong mind and great abilities--who go -through life learning some of its lessons, and totally neglecting -others--pre-occupied by one branch of the great study, and seeing -nothing in the course of scholarship but that. Dr. Paulding had no -conception of the change which the loss of their eldest son had -wrought in the heart of Sir John and Lady Hastings. The second--the -neglected one--had now become not only the eldest, but the only one. -His illness, painfully as it affected them, was a blessing to them. It -withdrew their thoughts from their late bereavement. It occupied their -mind with a new anxiety. It withdrew it from grief and from -disappointment. They thought little or nothing of whose house he was -at, or whose care he was under; but leaving the body of their dead -child to be brought down by slow and solemn procession to the country, -they hurried on before, to watch over the one that was left.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir John Hastings utterly forgot his ancient feelings toward Colonel -Marshal. He was at the house every day, and almost all day long, and -Lady Hastings was there day and night.</p> - -<p class="normal">Wonderful how--when barriers are broken down--we see the objects -brought into proximity under a totally different point of view from -that in which we beheld them at a distance. There might be some -stiffness in the first meeting of Colonel Marshal and Sir John -Hastings, but it wore off with exceeding rapidity. The Colonel's -kindness and attention to the sick youth were marked. Lady Annabelle -devoted herself to him as to one of her own children. Rachael Marshal -made herself a mere nurse. Hard hearts could only withstand such -things. Philip was now an only child, and the parents were filled with -gratitude and affection.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER III.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The stone which covered the vault of the Hastings family had -been -raised, and light and air let into the cold, damp interior. A ray of -sunshine, streaming through the church window, found its way across -the mouldy velvet of the old coffins as they stood ranged along in -solemn order, containing the dust of many ancestors of the present -possessors of the manor. There, too, apart from the rest were the -coffins of those who had died childless; the small narrow -resting-place of childhood, where the guileless infant, the father's -and mother's joy and hope, slept its last sleep, leaving tearful eyes -and sorrowing hearts behind, with naught to comfort but the blessed -thought that by calling such from earth, God peoples heaven with -angels; the coffins, too, of those cut off in the early spring of -manhood, whom the fell mower had struck down in the flower before the -fruit was ripe. Oh, how his scythe levels the blossoming fields of -hope! There, too, lay the stern old soldier, whose life had been given -up to his country's service, and who would not spare one thought or -moment to soften domestic joys; and many another who had lived, -perhaps and loved, and passed away without receiving love's reward.</p> - -<p class="normal">Amongst these, close at the end of the line, stood two tressels, ready -for a fresh occupant of the tomb, and the church bell tolled heavily -above, while the old sexton looked forth from the door of the church -toward the gates of the park, and the heavy clouded sky seemed to -menace rain.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Happy the bride the sun shines upon: happy the corpse the heaven -rains upon!" said the old man to himself. But the rain did not come -down; and presently, from the spot where he stood, which overlooked -the park-wall, he saw come on in slow and solemn procession along the -great road to the gates, the funeral train of him who had been lately -heir to all the fine property around. The body had been brought from -London after the career of youth had been cut short in a moment of -giddy pleasure, and father and mother, as was then customary, with a -long line of friends, relations, and dependents, now conveyed the -remains of him once so dearly loved, to the cold grave.</p> - -<p class="normal">Only one of all the numerous connections of the family was wanting on -this occasion, and that was the brother of the dead; but he lay slowly -recovering from the shock he had received, and every one had been told -that it was impossible for him to attend. All the rest of the family -had hastened to the hall in answer to the summons they had received, -for though Sir John Hastings was not much loved, he was much respected -and somewhat feared--at least, the deference which was paid to him, no -one well knew why, savored somewhat of dread.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is a strange propensity in many old persons to hang about the grave -to which they are rapidly tending, when it is opened for another, and -to comment--sometimes even with a bitter pleasantry--upon an event -which must soon overtake themselves. As soon as it was known that the -funeral procession had set out from the hall door, a number of aged -people, principally women, but comprising one or two shriveled men, -tottered forth from the cottages, which lay scattered about the -church, and made their way into the churchyard, there to hold -conference upon the dead and upon the living.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay!" said one old woman, "he has been taken at an early time; but -he was a fine lad, and better than most of those hard people."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, Peggy would praise the devil himself if he were dead," said an -old man, leaning on a stick, "though she has never a good word for the -living. The boy is taken away from mischief, that is the truth of it. -If he had lived to come down here again, he would have broken the -heart of my niece's daughter Jane, or made a public shame of her. What -business had a gentleman's son like that to be always hanging about a -poor cottage girl, following her into the corn-fields, and luring her -out in the evenings?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith! she might have been proud enough of his notice," said an old -crone; "and I dare say she was, too, in spite of all your conceit, -Matthew. She is not so dainty as you pretend to be; and we may see -something come of it yet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At all events," said another, "he was better than this white-faced, -spiritless boy that is left, who is likely enough to be taken earlier -than his brother, for he looks as if breath would blow him away."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will live to do something yet, that will make people talk of him;" -said a woman older than any of the rest, but taller and straighter; -"there is a spirit in him, be it angel or devil, that is not for death -so soon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay! they're making a pomp of it, I warrant," said another old woman, -fixing her eyes on the high road under the park wall, upon which the -procession now entered. "Marry, there are escutcheons enough, and -coats of arms! One would think he was a lord's son, with all this to -do! But there is a curse upon the race anyhow; this man was the last -of eleven brothers, and I have heard say, his father died a bad death. -Now his eldest son must die by drowning--saved the hangman something, -perchance--we shall see what comes of the one that is left. 'Tis a -curse upon them ever since Worcester fight, when the old man, who is -dead and gone, advised to send the poor fellows who were taken, to -work as slaves in the colonies."</p> - -<p class="normal">As she spoke, the funeral procession advanced up the road, and -approached that curious sort of gate with a penthouse over it, erected -probably to shelter the clergyman of the church while receiving the -corpse at the gate of the burial-ground, which was then universally to -be found at the entrance to all cemeteries. She broke off abruptly, as -if there was something still on her mind which she had not spoken, and -ranging themselves on each side of the church-yard path, the old men -and women formed a lane down which good Dr. Paulding speedily moved -with book in hand. The people assembled, whose numbers had been -increased by the arrival of some thirty or forty young and -middle-aged, said not a word as the clergymen marched on, but when the -body had passed up between them, and the bereaved father followed as -chief-mourner, with a fixed, stern, but tearless eye, betokening more -intense affliction perhaps, in a man of his character, than if his -cheeks had been covered with drops of womanly sorrow, several voices -were heard saying aloud. "God bless and comfort you, Sir John."</p> - -<p class="normal">Strange, marvelously strange it was, that these words should come from -tongues, and from those alone, which had been so busily engaged in -carping censure and unfeeling sneers but the moment before. It was the -old men and women alone who had just been commenting bitterly upon the -fate, history, and character of the family, who now uttered the unfelt -expressions of sympathy in a beggar-like, whining tone. It was those -who really felt compassion who said nothing.</p> - -<p class="normal">The coffin had been carried into the church, and the solemn rites, the -beautiful service of the Church of England, had proceeded some way, -when another person was added to the congregation who had not at first -been there. All eyes but those of the father of the dead and the lady -who sat weeping by his side, turned upon the new-comer, as with a face -as pale as death, and a faltering step, he took his place on one of -the benches somewhat remote from the rest. There was an expression of -feeble lassitude in the young man's countenance, but of strong -resolution, which overcame the weakness of the frame. He looked as if -each moment he would have fainted, but yet he sat out the whole -service of the Church, mingled with the crowd when the body was -lowered into the vault, and saw the handful of earth hurled out upon -the velvet coffin, as if in mockery of the empty pride of all the pomp -and circumstance which attended the burial of the rich and high.</p> - -<p class="normal">No tear came into his eyes--no sob escaped from his bosom; a slight -quivering of the lip alone betrayed that there was strong agitation -within. When all was over, and the father still gazing down into the -vault, the young lad crept quietly back into a pew, covered his face -with his hand, and wept.</p> - -<p class="normal">The last rite was over. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust were committed. -Sir John Hastings drew his wife's arm through his own, and walked with -a heavy, steadfast, and unwavering step down the aisle. Everybody drew -back respectfully as he passed; for generally, even in the hardest -hearts, true sorrow finds reverence. He had descended the steps from -the church into the burying ground, and had passed half way along the -path toward his carriage, when suddenly the tall upright old woman -whom I have mentioned thrust herself into his way, and addressed him -with a cold look and somewhat menacing tone--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, Sir John Hastings," she said, "will you do me justice about that -bit of land? By your son's grave I ask it. The hand of heaven has -smitten you. It may, perhaps, have touched your heart. You know the -land is mine. It was taken from my husband by the usurper because he -fought for the king to whom he had pledged his faith. It was given to -your father because he broke his faith to his king and brought evil -days upon his country. Will you give me back the land, I say? Out man! -It is but a garden of herbs, but it is mine, and in God's sight I -claim it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Away out of my path," replied Sir John Hastings angrily. "Is this a -time to talk of such things? Get you gone, I say, and choose some -better hour. Do you suppose I can listen to you now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have never listened, and you never will," replied the old woman, -and suffering him to pass without further opposition, she remained -upon the path behind him muttering to herself what seemed curses -bitter and deep, but the words of which were audible only to herself.</p> - -<p class="normal">The little crowd gathered round her, and listened eagerly to catch the -sense of what she said, but the moment after the old sexton laid his -hand upon her shoulder and pushed her from the path, saying, "Get -along with you, get along with you, Popish Beldam. What business have -you here scandalizing the congregation, and brawling at the church -door? You should be put in the stocks!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I pity you, old worm," replied the old woman, "you will be soon among -those you feed upon," and with a hanging head and dejected air she -quitted the church-yard.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile Dr. Paulding had remained gazing down into the vault, -while the stout young men who had come to assist the sexton withdrew -the broad hempen bands by which the coffin had been lowered, from -beneath it, arranged it properly upon the tressels in its orderly -place among the dead, and then mounted by a ladder into the body of -the church, again preparing to replace the stone over the mouth of the -vault. He then turned to the church door and looked out, and then -quietly approached a pew in the side aisle.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Philip, this is very wrong," he said; "your father never wished or -intended you should be here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He did not forbid me," replied the young man. "Why should I only be -absent from my brother's funeral?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because you are sick. Because, by coming, you may have risked your -life," replied the old clergyman.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is life to a duty?" replied the lad. "Have you not taught me, -sir, that there is no earthly thing--no interest of this life, no -pleasure, no happiness, no hope, that ought not to be sacrificed at -once to that which the heart says is right?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"True--true," replied the old clergyman, almost impatiently; "but in -following precept so severely, boy, you should use some -discrimination. You have a duty to a living father, which is of more -weight than a mere imaginary one to a dead brother. You could do no -good to the latter; as the Psalmist wisely said, 'You must go to him, -but he can never come back to you.' To your father, on the contrary, -you have high duties to perform; to console and cheer him in his -present affliction; to comfort and support his declining years. When a -real duty presents itself, Philip, to yourself, to your fellow men, to -your country, or to your God--I say again, as I have often said, do it -in spite of every possible affection. Let it cut through everything, -break through every tie, thrust aside every consideration. There, -indeed, I would fain see you act the old Roman, whom you are so fond -of studying, and be a Cato or a Brutus, if you will. But you must make -very sure that you do not make your fancy create unreal duties, and -make them of greater importance in your eyes than the true ones. But -now I must get you back as speedily as possible, for your mother, ere -long, will be up to see you, and your father, and they must not find -you absent on this errand."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lad made no reply, but readily walked back toward the court with -Dr. Paulding, though his steps were slow and feeble. He took the old -man's arm, too, and leaned heavily upon it; for, to say the truth, he -felt already the consequences of the foolish act he had committed; and -the first excitement past, lassitude and fever took possession once -more of every limb, and his feet would hardly bear him to the gates.</p> - -<p class="normal">The beautiful girl who had been the first to receive him at that -house, met the eyes both of the young man and the old one, the moment -they entered the gardens. She looked wild and anxious, and was -wandering about with her head uncovered; but as soon as she beheld the -youth, she ran toward him, exclaiming, "Oh, Philip, Philip, this is -very wrong and cruel of you. I have been looking for you everywhere. -You should not have done this. How could you let him, Dr. Paulding?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did not let him, my dear child," replied the old man, "he came of -his own will, and would not be let. But take him in with you; send him -to bed as speedily as may be; give him a large glass of the -fever-water he was taking, and say as little as possible of this rash -act to any one."</p> - -<p class="normal">The girl made the sick boy lean upon her rounded arm, led him away -into the house, and tended him like a sister. She kept the secret of -his rashness, too, from every one; and there were feelings sprang up -in his bosom toward her during the next few hours which were never to -be obliterated. She was so beautiful, so tender, so gentle, so full of -all womanly graces, that he fancied, with his strong imagination, that -no one perfection of body or mind could be wanting; and he continued -to think so for many a long year after.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER IV.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Enough of boyhood and its faults and follies. I sought but to -show the -reader, as in a glass, the back of a pageant that has past. Oh, how I -sometimes laugh at the fools--the critics--God save the mark! who see -no more in the slight sketch I choose to give, than a mere daub of -paint across the canvas, when that one touch gives effect to the whole -picture. Let them stand back, and view it as a whole; and if they can -find aught in it to make them say "Well done," let them look at the -frame. That is enough for them; their wits are only fitted to deal -with "leather, and prunella."</p> - -<p class="normal">I have given you, reader--kind and judicious reader--a sketch of the -boy, that you may be enabled to judge rightly of the man. Now, take -the lad as I have moulded him--bake him well in the fiery furnace of -strong passion, remembering still that the form is of hard -iron--quench and harden him in the cold waters of opposition, and -disappointment, and anxiety--and bring him forth tempered, but too -highly tempered for the world he has to live in--not pliable--not -elastic; no watch-spring, but like a graver's tool, which must cut -into everything opposed to it, or break under the pressure.</p> - -<p class="normal">Let us start upon our new course some fifteen years after the period -at which our tale began, and view Philip Hastings as that which he had -now become.</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Paulding had passed from this working day world to another and a -better--where we hope the virtues of the heart may be weighed against -vices of the head--a mode of dealing rare here below. Sir John -Hastings and his wife had gone whither their eldest son had gone -before them; and Philip Hastings was no longer the boy. Manhood had -set its seal upon his brow only too early; but what a change had come -with manhood!--a change not in the substance, but in its mode.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oh, Time! thy province is not only to destroy! Thou worker-out of -human destinies--thou new-fashioner of all things earthly--thou -blender of races--thou changer of institutions--thou discoverer--thou -concealer--thou builder up--thou dark destroyer; thy waters as they -flow have sometimes a petrifying, sometimes a solvent power, hardening -the soft, melting the strong, accumulating the sand, undermining the -rock! What had been thine effect upon Philip Hastings?</p> - -<p class="normal">All the thoughts had grown manly as well as the body. The slight -youth had been developed into the hardy and powerful man; somewhat -inactive--at least so it seemed to common eyes--more thoughtful than -brilliant, steady in resolution, though calm in expression, giving way -no more to bursts of boyish feeling, somewhat stern, men said somewhat -hard, but yet extremely just, and resolute for justice. The poetry of -life--I should have said the poetry of young life--the brilliancy of -fancy and hope, seemed somewhat dimmed in him--mark, I say seemed, for -that which seems too often is not; and he might, perhaps, have learnt -to rule and conceal feelings which he could not altogether conquer or -resist.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still there were many traces of his old self visible: the same love of -study, the same choice of books and subjects of thought, the same -subdued yet strong enthusiasms. The very fact of mingling with the -world, which had taught him to repress those enthusiasms, seemed to -have concentrated and rendered them more intense.</p> - -<p class="normal">The course of his studies; the habits of his mind; his fondness for -the school of the stoics, it might have been supposed, would rather -have disgusted him with the society in which he now habitually -mingled, and made him look upon mankind--for it was a very corrupt -age--with contempt, if not with horror.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such, however, was not the case. He had less of the cynic in him than -his father--indeed he had nothing of the cynic in him at all. He loved -mankind in his own peculiar way. He was a philanthropist of a certain -sort; and would willingly have put a considerable portion of his -fellow-creatures to death, in order to serve, and elevate, and improve -the rest.</p> - -<p class="normal">His was a remarkable character--not altogether fitted for the times in -which he lived; but one which in its wild and rugged strength, -commanded much respect and admiration even then. Weak things clung to -it, as ivy to an oak or a strong wall: and its power over them was -increased by a certain sort of tenderness--a protecting pity, which -mingled strangely with his harder and ruder qualities. He seemed to be -sorry for everything that was weak, and to seek to console and comfort -it, under the curse of feebleness. It seldom offended him--he rather -loved it, it rarely came in his way; and his feeling toward it might -approach contempt but never rose to anger.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was capable too of intense and strong affections, though he could -not extend them to many objects. All that was vigorous and powerful in -him concentrated itself in separate points here and there; and general -things were viewed with much indifference.</p> - -<p class="normal">See him as he walks up and down there before the old house, which I -have elsewhere described. He has grown tall and powerful in frame: and -yet his gait is somewhat slovenly and negligent, although his step is -firm and strong. He is not much more than thirty-one years of age; but -he looks forty at the least; and his hair is even thickly sprinkled -with gray. His face is pale, with some strong marked lines and -indentations in it; yet, on the whole, it is handsome, and the slight -habitual frown, thoughtful rather than stern, together with the -massive jaw, and the slight drawing down of the corners of the mouth, -give it an expression of resolute firmness, that is only contradicted -by the frequent variation of the eye, which is sometimes full of deep -thought, sometimes of tenderness; and sometimes is flashing with a -wild and almost unearthly fire.</p> - -<p class="normal">But there is a lady hanging on his arm which supports her somewhat -feeble steps. She seems recovering from illness; the rose in her cheek -is faint and delicate; and an air of languor is in her whole face and -form. Yet she is very beautiful, and seems fully ten years younger -than her husband, although, in truth, she is of the same age--or -perhaps a little older. It is Rachael Marshal, now become Lady -Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">Their union did not take place without opposition; all Sir John -Hastings' prejudices against the Marshal family revived as soon as his -son's attachment to the daughter of the house became apparent. Like -most fathers, he saw too late; and then sought to prevent that which -had become inevitable. He sent his son to travel in foreign lands; he -even laid out a scheme for marrying him to another, younger, and as he -thought fairer. He contrived that the young man should fall into the -society of the lady he had selected, and he fancied that would be -quite sufficient; for he saw in her character, young as she was, -traits, much more harmonious, as he fancied, with those of his son, -than could be found in the softer, gentler, weaker Rachael Marshal. -There was energy, perseverance, resolution, keen and quick -perceptions--perhaps a little too much keenness. More, he did not stay -to inquire; but, as is usual in matters of the heart, Philip Hastings -loved best the converse of himself. The progress of the scheme was -interrupted by the illness of Sir John Hastings, which recalled his -son from Rome. Philip returned, found his father dead, and married -Rachael Marshal.</p> - -<p class="normal">They had had several children; but only one remained; that gay, light, -gossamer girl, like a gleam darting along the path from sunny rays -piercing through wind-borne clouds. On she ran with a step of light -and careless air, yet every now and then she paused suddenly, gazed -earnestly at a flower, plucked it, pored into its very heart with her -deep eyes, and, after seeming to labor under thought for a moment, -sprang forward again as light as ever.</p> - -<p class="normal">The eyes of the father followed her with a look of grave, thoughtful, -intense affection. The mother's eyes looked up to him, and then -glanced onward to the child.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was between nine and ten years old--not very handsome, for it is -not a handsome age. Yet there were indications of future beauty--fine -and sparkling eyes, rich, waving, silky hair, long eyelashes, a fine -complexion, a light and graceful figure, though deformed by the stiff -fashions of the day.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a sparkle too in her look--that bright outpouring of the -heart upon the face which is one of the most powerful charms of youth -and innocence. Ah! how soon gone by! How soon checked by the thousand -loads which this heavy laboring world casts upon the buoyancy of -youthful spirits--the chilling conventionality--the knowledge, and the -fear of wrong--the first taste of sorrow--the anxieties, cares, -fears--even the hopes of mature life, are all weights to bear down the -pinions of young, lark-like joy. After twenty, does the heart ever -rise up from her green sod and fling at Heaven's gate as in childhood? -Never--eh, never! The dust of earth is upon the wing of the sky -songster, and will never let her mount to her ancient pitch.</p> - -<p class="normal">That child was a strange combination of her father and her mother. She -was destined to be their only one; and it seemed as if nature had -taken a pleasure in blending the characters of both in one. Not that -they were intimately mingled, but that they seemed like the twins of -Laconia, to rise and set by turns.</p> - -<p class="normal">In her morning walk: in her hours of sportive play; when no subject of -deep thought, no matter that affected the heart or the imagination was -presented to her, she was light and gay as a butterfly; the child--the -happy child was in every look, and word, and movement. But call her -for a moment from this bright land of pleasantness--present something -to her mind or to her fancy which rouses sympathies, or sets the -energetic thoughts at work, and she was grave, meditative, studious, -deep beyond her years.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was a subject of much contemplation, some anxiety, some wonder to -her father. The brightness of her perceptions, her eagerness in the -pursuit of knowledge, her vigorous resolution even as a child, when -convinced that she was right, showed him his own mind reflected in -hers. Even her tenderness, her strong affections, he could comprehend; -for the same were in his own heart, and though he believed them to be -weaknesses, he could well understand their existence in a child and in -a woman.</p> - -<p class="normal">But that which he did not understand--that which made him marvel--was -her lightness, her gayety, her wild vivacity--I might almost say, her -trifling, when not moved by deep feeling or chained down by thought.</p> - -<p class="normal">This was beyond him. Yet strange! the same characteristics did not -surprise nor shook him in her mother--never had surprised or shocked -him; indeed he had rather loved her for those qualities, so unlike his -own. Perhaps it was that he thought it strange, his child should, in -any mood, be so unlike himself; or perhaps it was the contrast between -the two sides of the same character that moved his wonder when he saw -it in his child, he might forget that her mother was her parent as -well as himself; and that she had an inheritance from each.</p> - -<p class="normal">In his thoughtful, considering, theoretical way, he determined -studiously to seek a remedy for what he considered the defect in his -child--to cultivate with all the zeal and perseverance of paternal -affection, supported by his own force of character, those qualities -which were most like his own--those, in short, which were the least -womanly. But nature would not be baffled. You may divert her to a -certain degree; but you cannot turn her aside from her course -altogether.</p> - -<p class="normal">He found that he could not--by any means which his heart would let him -employ--conquer what he called, the frivolity of the child. Frivolity! -Heaven save us! There were times when she showed no frivolity, but on -the contrary, a depth and intensity far, far beyond her years. Indeed, -the ordinary current of her mind was calm and thoughtful. It was but -when a breeze rippled it that it sparkled on the surface. Her father, -too, saw that this was so; that the wild gayety was but occasional. -But still it surprised and pained him--perhaps the more because it was -occasional. It seemed to hie eyes an anomaly in her nature. He would -have had her altogether like himself. He could not conceive any one -possessing so much of his own character, having room in heart and -brain for aught else. It was a subject of constant wonder to him; of -speculation, of anxious thought.</p> - -<p class="normal">He often asked himself if this was the only anomaly in his child--if -there were not other traits, yet undiscovered, as discrepant as this -light volatility with her general character: and he puzzled himself -sorely.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still he pursued her education upon his own principles; taught her -many things which women rarely learned in those days; imbued her mind -with thoughts and feelings of his own; and often thought, when a -season of peculiar gravity fell upon her, that he made progress in -rendering her character all that he could wish it. This impression -never lasted long, however; for sooner or later the bird-like spirit -within her found the cage door open, and fluttered forth upon some gay -excursion, leaving all his dreams vanished and his wishes -disappointed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless he loved her with all the strong affection of which his -nature was capable; and still he persevered in the course which he -thought for her benefit. At times, indeed, he would make efforts to -unravel the mystery of her double nature, not perceiving that the only -cause of mystery was in himself: that what seemed strange in his -daughter depended more upon his own want of power to comprehend her -variety than upon anything extraordinary in her. He would endeavor to -go along with her in her sportive moods--to let his mind run free -beside hers in its gay ramble to find some motive for them which he -could understand; to reduce them to a system; to discover the rule by -which the problem was to be solved. But he made nothing of it, and -wearied conjecture in vain.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings sometimes interposed a little; for in unimportant things -she had great influence with her husband. He let her have her own way -wherever he thought it not worth while to oppose her; and that was -very often. She perfectly comprehended the side of her daughter's -character which was all darkness to the father; and strange to say, -with greater penetration than his own, she comprehended the other side -likewise. She recognized easily the traits in her child which she knew -and admired in her husband, but wished them heartily away in her -daughter's case, thinking such strength of mind, joined with whatever -grace and sweetness, somewhat unfeminine.</p> - -<p class="normal">Though she was full of prejudices, and where her quickness of -perception failed her, altogether unteachable by reason, yet she was -naturally too virtuous and good to attempt even to thwart the objects -of the father's efforts in the education of his child. I have said -that she interfered at times, but it was only to remonstrate against -too close study, to obtain frequent and healthful relaxation, and to -add all those womanly accomplishments on which she set great value. In -this she was not opposed. Music, singing, dancing, and a knowledge of -modern languages, were added to other branches of education, and Lady -Hastings was so far satisfied.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER V.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The Italian singing-master was a peculiar man, and well worthy -of a -few words in description. He was tall and thin, but well built; and -his face had probably once been very handsome, in that Italian style, -which, by the exaggeration of age, grows so soon into ugliness. The -nose was now large and conspicuous, the eyes bright, black, and -twinkling, the mouth good in shape, but with an animal expression -about it, the ear very voluminous.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was somewhat more than fifty years of age, and his hair was -speckled with gray; but age was not apparent in wrinkles and furrows, -and in gait he was firm and upright.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first Sir Philip Hastings did not like him at all. He did not like -to have him there. It was against the grain he admitted him into the -house. He did it, partly because he thought it right to yield in some -degree to the wishes of his wife; partly from a grudging deference to -the customs of society.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the Signor was a shrewd and world-taught man, accustomed to -overcome prejudices, and to make his way against disadvantages; and he -soon established himself well in the opinion of both father and -mother. It was done by a peculiar process, which is well worth the -consideration of all those who seek _les moyens de parvenir_.</p> - -<p class="normal">In his general and ordinary intercourse with his fellow-men, he had a -happy middle tone,--a grave reticent manner, which never compromised -him to anything. A shrewd smile, without an elucidatory remark, served -to harmonize him with the gay and vivacious; a serious tranquillity, -unaccompanied by any public professions, was enough to make the sober -and the decent rank him amongst themselves. Perhaps that class of -men--whether pure at heart or not--have always overestimated decency -of exterior.</p> - -<p class="normal">All this was in public however. In private, in a _tête-à-tête_, Signor -Guardini was a very different man. Nay more, in each and every -_tête-à-tête_ he was a different man from what he appeared in the other. -Yet, with a marvelous art, he contrived to make both sides of his -apparent character harmonize with his public and open appearance. Or -rather perhaps I should say that his public demeanor was a middle tint -which served to harmonize the opposite extremes of coloring displayed -by his character. Nothing could exemplify this more strongly than the -different impressions he produced on Sir Philip and Lady Hastings. The -lady was soon won to his side. She was predisposed to favor him; and a -few light gay sallies, a great deal of conventional talk about the -fashionable life of London, and a cheerful bantering tone of -persiflage, completely charmed her. Sir Philip was more difficult to -win. Nevertheless, in a few short sentences, hardly longer than those -which Sterne's mendicant whispered in the ear of the passengers, he -succeeded in disarming many prejudices. With him, the Signor was a -stoic; he had some tincture of letters, though a singer, and had read -sufficient of the history of his own land, to have caught all the -salient points of the glorious past.</p> - -<p class="normal">Perhaps he might even feel a certain interest in the antecedents of -his decrepit land--not to influence his conduct, or to plant ambitious -or nourish pure and high hopes for its regeneration--but to waken a -sort of touchwood enthusiasm, which glowed brightly when fanned by the -stronger powers of others. Yet before Sir Philip had had time to -communicate to him one spark of his own ardor, he had as I have said -made great progress in his esteem. In five minutes' conversation he -had established for himself the character of one of a higher and -nobler character whose lot had fallen in evil days.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In other years," thought the English gentleman, "this might have been -a great man--the defender unto death of his country's rights--the -advocate of all that is ennobling, stern, and grand."</p> - -<p class="normal">What was the secret of all this? Simply that he, a man almost without -character, had keen and well-nigh intuitive perceptions of the -characters of others; and that without difficulty his pliable nature -and easy principles would accommodate themselves to all.</p> - -<p class="normal">He made great progress then in the regard of Sir Philip, although -their conversations seldom lasted above five minutes. He made greater -progress still with the mother. But with the daughter he made -none--worse than none.</p> - -<p class="normal">What was the cause, it may be asked. What did he do or say--how did he -demean himself so as to produce in her bosom a feeling of horror and -disgust toward him that nothing could remove?</p> - -<p class="normal">I cannot tell. He was a man of strong passions and no principles: that -his after--perhaps his previous--life would evince. There is a -touchstone for pure gold in the heart of an innocent and high-minded -woman that detects all baser metals: they are discovered in a moment: -they cannot stand the test.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, whether his heart-cankering corruption, his want of faith, -honesty, and truth, made themselves felt, and were pointed out by the -index of that fine barometer, without any overt act at all--or whether -he gave actual cause of offense, I do not know--none has ever known.</p> - -<p class="normal">Suddenly, however, the gay, the apparently somewhat wayward girl, now -between fifteen and sixteen, assumed a new character in her father's -and mother's eyes. With a strange frank abruptness she told them she -would take no more singing lessons of the Italian; but she added no -explanation.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings was angry, and expostulated warmly; but the girl was -firm and resolute. She heard her mother's argument, and answered in -soft and humble tones that she would not,--could not learn to sing any -longer--that she was very sorry to grieve or to offend her mother; but -she had learned long enough, and would learn no more.</p> - -<p class="normal">More angry than before, with the air of indignant pride in which -weakness so often takes refuge, the mother quitted the room; and the -father then, in a calmer spirit, inquired the cause of her resolution.</p> - -<p class="normal">She blushed like the early morning sky; but there was a sort of -bewildered look upon her face as she replied, "I know no cause--I can -give no reason, my dear father; but the man is hateful to me. I will -never see him again."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her father sought for farther explanation, but he could obtain none. -Guardini had not said anything nor done anything, she admitted, to -give her offense; but yet she firmly refused to be his pupil any -longer.</p> - -<p class="normal">There are instincts in fine and delicate minds, which, by signs and -indications intangible to coarser natures discover in others thoughts -and feelings, wishes and designs, discordant--repugnant to themselves. -They are instincts, I say, not amenable to reason, escaping analysis, -incapable of explanation--the warning voice of God in the heart, -bidding them beware of evil.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings was not a man to allow aught for such impulses--to -conceive or understand them in the least. He had been accustomed to -delude himself with reasons, some just, others very much the reverse, -but he had never done a deed or entertained a thought for which he -could not give some reason of convincing power to his own mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not understand his daughter's conduct at all; but he would not -press her any farther. She was in some degree a mysterious being to -him. Indeed, as I have before shown, she had always been a mystery; -for he had no key to her character in his own. It was written in the -unknown language.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, did he love or cherish her the less? Oh no! Perhaps a deeper -interest gathered round his heart for her, the chief object of his -affections. More strongly than ever he determined to cultivate and -form her mind on his own model, in consequence of what he called a -strange caprice, although he could not but sometimes hope and fancy -that her resolute rejection of any farther lessons from Signor -Guardini arose from her distaste to what he himself considered one of -the frivolous pursuits of fashion.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet she showed no distaste for singing: for somehow every day she -would practice eagerly, till her sweet voice, under a delicate taste, -acquired a flexibility and power which charmed and captivated her -father, notwithstanding his would-be cynicism. He was naturally fond -of music; his nature was a vehement one, though curbed by such strong -restraints; and all vehement natures are much moved by music. He -would sit calmly, with his eyes fixed upon a book, but listening all -the time to that sweet voice, with feelings working in him--emotions, -thrilling, deep, intense, which he would have felt ashamed to expose -to any human eye.</p> - -<p class="normal">All this however made her conduct toward Guardini the more mysterious; -and her father often gazed upon her beautiful face with a look of -doubting inquiry, as one may look on the surface of a bright lake, and -ask, What is below?</p> - -<p class="normal">That face was now indeed becoming very beautiful. Every feature had -been refined and softened by time. There was soul in the eyes, and a -gleam of heaven upon the smile, besides the mere beauties of line and -coloring. The form too had nearly reached perfection. It was full of -symmetry and grace, and budding charms; and while the mother marked -all these attractions, and thought how powerful they would prove in -the world, the father felt their influence in a different manner: with -a sort of abstract admiration of her loveliness, which went, no -farther than a proud acknowledgment to his own heart that she was -beautiful indeed. To him her beauty was as a gem, a picture, a -beautiful possession, which he had no thought of ever parting -with--something on which his eyes would rest well pleased until they -closed forever. How blessed he might have been in the possession of -such a child could he have comprehended her--could he have divested -his mind of the idea that there was something strange and inharmonious -in her character! Could he have made his heart a woman's heart for but -one hour, all mystery would have been dispelled; but it was -impossible, and it remained.</p> - -<p class="normal">No tangible effect did it produce at the time; but preconceptions of -another's character are very dangerous things. Everything is seen -through their medium, everything is colored and often distorted. That -which produced no fruit at the time, had very important results at an -after period.</p> - -<p class="normal">But I must turn now to other scenes and more stirring events, having I -trust made the reader well enough acquainted with father, mother, and -daughter, at least sufficiently for all the purposes of this tale. It -is upon the characters of two of them that all the interest if there -be any depends. Let them be marked then and remembered, if the reader -would derive pleasure from what follows.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER VI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Reader, can you go back for twenty years? You do it every day. -You -say, "Twenty years ago I was a boy--twenty years ago I was a -youth--twenty years ago I played at peg-top and at marbles--twenty -years ago I wooed--was loved--I sinned--I suffered!"</p> - -<p class="normal">What is there in twenty years that should keep us from going back -over them? You go on so fast, so smoothly, so easily on the forward -course--why not in retrogression? But let me tell you: it makes a very -great difference whether Hope or Memory drives the coach.</p> - -<p class="normal">But let us see what we can do. Twenty years before the period at which -the last chapter broke off, Philip Hastings, now a father of a girl of -fifteen, was a lad standing by the side of his brother's grave. Twenty -years ago Sir John Hastings was the living lord of these fine lands -and broad estates. Twenty years ago he passed, from the mouth of the -vault in which he had laid the clay of the first-born, into the open -splendor of the day, and felt sorrow's desolation in the sunshine. -Twenty years age, he had been confronted on the church-yard path by a -tall old woman, and challenged with words high and stern, to do her -right in regard to a paltry rood or two of land. Twenty years ago he -had given her a harsh, cold answer, and treated her menaces with -impatient scorn.</p> - -<p class="normal">Do you remember her, reader? Well, if you do, that brings us to the -point I sought to reach in the dull flat expanse of the far past; and -we can stand and look around us for awhile.</p> - -<p class="normal">That old woman was not one easily to forget or lightly to yield her -resentments. There was something perdurable in them as well as in her -gaunt, sinewy frame. As she stood there menacing him, she wanted but -three years of seventy. She had battled too with many a storm--wind -and weather, suffering and persecution, sorrow and privation, had beat -upon her hard--very hard. They had but served to stiffen and wither -and harden, however.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her corporeal frame, shattered as it seemed, was destined to outlive -many of the young and fair spirit-tabernacles around it--to pass over, -by long years, the ordinary allotted space of human life; and it -seemed as if even misfortune had with her but a preserving power. It -is not wonderful, however, that, while it worked thus upon her body, -it should likewise have stiffened and withered and hardened her heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">I am not sure that conscience itself went untouched in this searing -process. It is not clear at all that even her claim upon Sir John -Hastings was not an unjust one; but just or unjust his repulse sunk -deep and festered.</p> - -<p class="normal">Let us trace her from the church-yard after she met him. She took her -path away from the perk and the hamlet, between two cottages, the -ragged boys at the doors of which called her "Old Witch," and spoke -about a broomstick.</p> - -<p class="normal">She heeded them little: there were deeper offences rankling at her -heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">She walked on, across a corn-field and a meadow, and then she came -upon some woodlands, through which a little sandy path wound its way, -round stumps of old trees long cut down, amidst young bushes and -saplings just springing up, and catching the sunshine here and there -through the bright-tinted foliage overhead. Up the hill it went, over -the slope on which the copse was scattered, and then burst forth again -on the opposite side of wood and rise, where the ground fell gently -the other way, looking down upon the richly-dressed grounds of Colonel -Marshall, at the distance of some three miles.</p> - -<p class="normal">Not more than a hundred yards distant was a poor man's cottage, with -an old gray thatch which wanted some repairing, and was plentifully -covered with herbs, sending the threads of their roots into the straw. -A. little badly-cultivated garden, fenced off from the hill-side by a -loose stone wall, surrounded the horse, and a gate without hinges gave -entrance to this inclosed space.</p> - -<p class="normal">The old woman went in and approached the cottage door. When near it -she stopped and listened, lifting one of the flapping ears of her -cotton cap to aid the dull sense of hearing. There were no voices -within; but there was a low sobbing sound issued forth as if some one -were in bitter distress.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should not wonder if she were alone," said the old woman; "the -ruffian father is always out; the drudging mother goes about this time -to the town. They will neither stay at home, I wot, to grieve for him -they let too often into that door, nor to comfort her he has left -desolate. But it matters little whether they be in or out. It were -better to talk to her first. I will give her better than -comfort--revenge, if I judge right. They must play their part -afterwards."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus communing with herself, she laid her hand upon the latch and -opened the door. In an attitude of unspeakable grief sat immediately -before her a young and exceedingly beautiful girl, of hardly seventeen -years of age.</p> - -<p class="normal">The wheel stood still by her side; the spindle had fallen from her -hands; her head was bowed down as with sorrow she could not bear up -against; and her eyes were dropping tears like rain.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment she heard the door open she started, and looked up with -fear upon her face, and strove to dash the tears from her eyes; but -the old women bespoke her softly, saying, "Good even, my dear; is your -mother in the place?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," replied the girl; "she has gone to sell the lint, and father is -out too. It is very lonely, and I get sad here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not wonder at it, poor child," said the old woman; "you have had -a heavy loss, my dear, and may well cry. You can't help what is past, -you know; but we can do a good deal for what is to come, if we but -take care and make up our minds in time."</p> - -<p class="normal">Many and strange were the changes of expression which came upon the -poor girl's face as she heard these few simple words. At first her -cheek glowed hot, as with the burning blush of shame; then she turned -pale and trembled, gazing inquiringly in her visitor's face, as if she -would have asked, "Am I detected?" and then she cast down her eyes -again, still pale as ashes, and the tears rolled forth once more and -fell upon her lap.</p> - -<p class="normal">The old woman sat down beside her, and talked to her tenderly; but, -alas! very cunningly too. She assumed far greater knowledge than she -possessed. She persuaded the poor girl that there was nothing to -conceal from her; and what neither father nor mother knew, was told -that day to one comparatively a stranger. Still the old woman spoke -tenderly--ay, very tenderly; excused her fault--made light of her -fears--gave her hope--gave her strength. But all the time she -concealed her full purpose. That was to be revealed by degrees. -Whatever had been the girl's errors, she was too innocent to be made a -party to a scheme of fraud and wrong and vengeance at once. All that -the woman communicated was blessed comfort to a bruised and bleeding -heart; and the poor girl leaned her head upon her old companion's -shoulder, and, amidst bitter tears and sobs and sighs, poured out -every secret of her heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">But what is that she says, which makes the old woman start with a look -of triumph?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Letters!" she exclaimed; "two letters: let me see them, child--let me -see them! Perhaps they may be more valuable than you think."</p> - -<p class="normal">The girl took them from her bosom, where she kept them as all that she -possessed of one gone that day into the tomb.</p> - -<p class="normal">The old woman read them with slow eyes, but eager attention; and then -gave them back, saying, "That one you had better destroy as soon as -possible--it tells too much. But this first one keep, as you value -your own welfare--as you value your child's fortune, station, and -happiness. You can do much with this. Why, here are words that may -make your father a proud man. Hark! I hear footsteps coming. Put them -up--we must go to work cautiously, and break the matter to your -parents by degrees."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was the mother of the girl who entered; and she seemed faint and -tired. Well had the old woman called her a drudge, for such she was--a -poor patient household drudge, laboring for a hard, heartless, idle, -and cunning husband, and but too tenderly fond of the poor girl whose -beauty had been a snare to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">She seemed somewhat surprised to see the old woman there; for they -were of different creeds, and those creeds made wide separation in the -days I speak of. Perhaps she was surprised and grieved to see the -traces of tears and agitation on her daughter's face; but of that she -took no notice; for there were doubts and fears at her heart which she -dreaded to confirm. The girl was more cheerful, however, than she had -been for the last week--not gay, not even calm; but yet there was a -look of some relief.</p> - -<p class="normal">Often even after her mother's entrance, the tears would gather thick -in her eyes when she thought of the dead; but it was evident that hope -had risen up: that the future was not all darkness and terror. This -was a comfort to her; and she spoke and looked cheerfully. She had -sold all the thread of her and her daughter's spinning, and she had -sold it well. Part she hid in a corner to keep a pittance for bread -from her husband's eyes; part she reserved to give up to him for the -purchase of drink: but while she made all these little arrangements, -she looked somewhat anxiously at the old woman, from time to time, as -if she fain would have asked, "What brought you here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The crone was cautious, however, and knew well with whom she had to -deal. She talked in solemn and oracular tones, as if she had possessed -all the secrets of fate, but she told nothing, and when she went away -she said in a low voice but authoritative manner, "Be kind to your -girl--be very kind; for she will bring good luck and fortune to you -all." The next day she laid wait for the husband, found and forced him -to stop and hear her. At first he was impatient, rude, and brutal; -swore, cursed, and called her many and evil names. But soon he -listened eagerly enough: looks of intelligence and eager design passed -between the two, and ere they parted they perfectly understood each -other.</p> - -<p class="normal">The man was then, on more than one day, seen going down to the hall. -At first he was refused admission to Sir John Hastings; for his -character was known. The next day, however, he brought a letter, -written under his dictation by his daughter, who had been taught at a -charitable school of old foundation hard by; and this time he was -admitted. His conversation with the Lord of the Manor was long; but no -one knew its import. He came again and again, and was still admitted.</p> - -<p class="normal">A change came over the cottage and its denizens. The fences were put -in order, the walls were repaired, the thatch renewed, another room or -two was added; plenty reigned within; mother and daughter appeared in -somewhat finer apparel; and money was not wanting.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the end of some months there was the cry of a young child in the -house. The neighbors were scandalized, and gossips spoke censoriously -even in the father's ears; but he stopped them fiercely, with proud -and mysterious words; boasted aloud of what they had thought his -daughter's shame; and claimed a higher place for her than was -willingly yielded to her companions. Strange rumors got afloat, but -ere a twelvemonth had passed, the father had drank himself to death. -His widow and her daughter and her grandson moved to a better house, -and lived at ease on money none knew the source of, while the cottage, -now neat and in good repair, became the dwelling of the old woman, who -had been driven with scorn from Sir John's presence. Was she -satisfied--had she sated herself? Not yet.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER VII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">There was a lady, a very beautiful lady indeed, came to a -lonely -house, which seemed to have been tenanted for several years by none -but servants, about three years after the death of Sir John Hastings. -That house stood some miles to the north of the seat of that -gentleman, which now had passed to his son; and it was a fine-looking -place, with a massive sort of solemn brick-and-mortar grandeur -about it, which impressed the mind with a sense of the wealth and -long-standing of its owners.</p> - -<p class="normal">The plural has slipped from my pen, and perhaps it is right; for the -house looked as if it had had many owners, and all of them had been -rich.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, there was but one owner,--the lady who descended from that -lumbering, heavy coach, with the two great leathern wings on each side -of the door. She was dressed in widow's weeds, and she had every right -to wear them. Though two-and-twenty only, she stood there orphan, -heiress, and widow. She had known many changes of condition, but not -of fate, and they did not seem to have affected her much. Of high-born -and proud parentage, she had been an only child for many years before -her parents' death. She had been spoiled, to use a common, but not -always appropriate phrase; for there are some people who cannot be -spoiled, either because the ethereal essence within them is -incorruptible, or because there is no ethereal essence to spoil at -all. However, she had been spoiled very successfully by fate, fortune, -and kind friends. She had never been contradicted in her life; she had -never been disappointed--but once. She had travelled, seen strange -countries--which was rare in those days with women--had enjoyed many -things. She had married a handsome, foolish man, whom she chose--few -knew rightly why. She had lost both her parents not long after; got -tired of her husband, and lost him too, just when the loss could leave -little behind but a decent regret, which she cultivated as a slight -stimulant to keep her mind from stagnating. And now, without husband, -child, or parents, she returned to the house of her childhood, which -she had not seen for five long years.</p> - -<p class="normal">Is that all her history? No, not exactly all. There is one little -incident which may as well be referred to here. Her parents had -entered into an arrangement for her marriage with a very different man -from him whom she afterwards chose,--Sir Philip Hastings; and -foolishly they had told her of what had been done, before the -young man's own assent had been given. She did not see much of -him--certainly not enough to fall in love with him. She even thought -him a strange, moody youth; but yet there was something in his -moodiness and eccentricity which excited her fancy. The reader knows -that he chose for himself; and the lady also married immediately -after.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus had passed for her a part of life's pageant; and now she came to -her own native dwelling, to let the rest march by as it might. At -first, as she slowly descended from the carriage, her large, dark, -brilliant eyes were fixed upon the ground. She had looked long at the -house as she was driving towards it, and it seemed to have cast her -into a thoughtful mood. It is hardly possible to enter a house where -we have spent many early years, without finding memory suddenly seize -upon the heart and possess it totally. What a grave it is! What a long -line of buried ancestors may not _the present_ always contemplate -there.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nor are there many received into the tomb worth so much respect as one -dead hour. All else shall live again: lost hours have no resurrection.</p> - -<p class="normal">There were old servants waiting around, to welcome her, new ones -attending upon her orders; but for a moment or two she noticed no one, -till at length the old housekeeper, who knew her from a babe, spoke -out, saying, "Ah, madam I do not wonder to see you a little sad on -first coming to the old place again, after all that has happened."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, indeed, Arnold," replied the lady, "many sad things have happened -since we parted. But how are you, Goody? You look blooming:" and -walking into the house, she heard the reply in the hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">From the hall, the old housekeeper led her lady through the house, and -mightily did she chatter and gossip by the way. The lady listened -nearly in silence; for Mrs. Arnold was generous in conversation, and -spared her companion all expense of words. At length, however, -something she said seemed to rouse her mistress, and she exclaimed -with a somewhat bitter laugh, "And so the good people declared I was -going to be married to Sir Philip Hastings?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"_Mr_. Hastings he was then, madam," answered the housekeeper "to be -sure they did. All the country around talked of it, and the tenants -listened at church to hear the banns proclaimed."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady turned very red, and the old woman went on to say, "Old Sir -John seemed quite sure of it; but he reckoned without his host, I -fancy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He did indeed," said the lady with an uncheerful smile, and there the -subject dropped for the time. Not long after, however, the lady -herself brought the conversation back to nearly the same point, asked -after Sir Philip's health and manner of living, and how he was liked -in the neighborhood, adding, "He seemed a strange being at the time I -saw him, which was only once or twice--not likely to make a very -pleasant husband, I thought."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh dear, yes, madam, he does," answered Mrs. Arnold, "many a worse, I -can assure you. He is very fond of his lady indeed, and gives up more -to her than one would think. He is a little stern, they say, but very -just and upright; and no libertine fellow, like his brother who was -drowned--which I am sure was a providence, for if he was so bad when -he was young, what would he have been when he was old?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Better, perhaps," replied her mistress, with a quiet smile; "but was -he so very wicked? I never heard any evil of him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh dear me, madam! do not you know?" exclaimed the old woman; and -then came the whole story of the cotter's daughter on the hill, and -how she and her father and old Mother Danby--whom people believed to -be a witch--had persuaded or threatened Sir John Hastings into making -rich people of them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Persuaded or threatened Sir John Hastings!" said the lady in a tone -of doubt. "I knew him better than either of his sons; and never did I -see a man so little likely to yield to persuasion or to bow to menace;" -and she fell into a deep fit of musing, which lasted long, while the -old housekeeper rambled on from subject to subject, unlistened to, but -very well content.</p> - -<p class="normal">Let us dwell a little on the lady, and on her character. There is -always something to interest, something to instruct, in the character -of a woman. It is like many a problem in Euclid, which seems at first -sight as plain and simple as the broad sunshine; but when we come to -study it, we find intricacies beneath which puzzle us mightily to -resolve. It is a fine, curious, delicate, complicated piece of -anatomy, a woman's heart. I have dissected many, and I know the fact. -Take and lay that fibre apart--take care, for heaven's sake! that you -do not tear the one next to it; and be sure you do not dissever the -fragments which bind those most opposite parts together! See, here -lies a muscle of keen sensibility; and there--what is that? A -cartilage, hard as a nether millstone. Look at those light, irritable -nerves, quivering at the slightest touch; and then see those tendons, -firm, fixed, and powerful as the resolution of a martyr. Oh, that -wonderful piece of organization who can describe it accurately?</p> - -<p class="normal">I must not pretend to do so; but I will give a slight sketch of the -being before me.</p> - -<p class="normal">There she stands, somewhat above the usual height, but beautifully -formed, with every line rounded and flowing gracefully into the -others. There is calmness and dignity in the whole air, and in every -movement; but yet there is something very firm, very resolute, very -considerate, in the fall of that small foot upon the carpet. She -cannot intend her foot to stay there for ever; and yet, when she sets -it down, one would be inclined to think she did. Her face is very -beautiful--every feature finely cut--the eyes almost dazzling in their -dark brightness. How chaste, how lovely the fine lines of that mouth. -Yet do you see what a habit she has of keeping the pearly teeth close -shut--one pure row pressed hard against the other. The slight -sarcastic quiver of the upper lip does not escape you; and the -expanded nostril and flash of the eye, contradicted by the fixed -motionless mouth.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such is her outward appearance, such is she too within--though the -complexion there is somewhat darker. Much that, had it been cultivated -and improved, would have blossomed into womanly virtue; a capability -of love, strong, fiery, vehement, changeless--not much tenderness--not -much pity,--no remorse--are there. Pride, of a peculiar character, but -strong, ungovernable, unforgiving, and a power of hate and thirst of -vengeance, which only pride can give, are there likewise. Super-add a -shrewdness--a policy--a cunning--nay, something greater--something -approaching the sublime--a divination, where passion is to be -gratified, that seldom leads astray from the object.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yes, such is the interior of that fair temple, and yet, how calm, -sweet, and promising it stands.</p> - -<p class="normal">I have omitted much perhaps; for the human heart is like the caldron -of the witches in Macbeth, and one might go on throwing in ingredients -till the audience became tired of the song. However, what I have said -will be enough for the reader's information; and if we come upon any -unexplained phenomena, I must endeavor to elucidate them hereafter.</p> - -<p class="normal">Let us suppose the lady's interview with her housekeeper at an -end--all her domestic arrangements made--the house restored to its air -of habitation--visits received and paid. Amongst the earliest visitors -were Sir Philip and Lady Hastings. He came frankly, and in one of his -most happy moods, perfectly ignorant that she had ever been made aware -of there having been a marriage proposed between himself and her and -she received him and his fair wife with every appearance of -cordiality. But as soon as these visits and all the ceremonies were -over, the lady began to drive much about the country, and to collect -every tale and rumor she could meet with of all the neighboring -families. Her closest attention, however, centred upon those affecting -the Hastings' race; and she found the whole strange story of the -cottage girl confirmed, with many another particular added. She smiled -when she heard this--smiled blandly--it seemed to give her pleasure. -She would fain have called upon the girl and her mother too. She -longed to do so, and to draw forth with skill, of which she possessed -no small share, the key secret of the whole. But her station, her -reputation, prevented her from taking a step which she knew might be -noised abroad and create strange comments.</p> - -<p class="normal">She resolved upon another move, however, which she thought would do as -well. There would be no objection to her visiting her poorer -neighbors, to comfort, to relieve; and she went to the huts of many. -At length one early morning, on a clear autumn day, the carriage was -left below on the high road, and the lady climbed the hill alone -towards the cottage, where the girl and her parents formerly lived. -She found the old woman, who was now its occupant, busily cooking her -morning meal; and sitting down, she entered into conversation with -her. At first she could obtain but little information; the old woman -was in a sullen mood, and would not speak of any thing she did not -like. Money was of no avail to unlock her eloquence.</p> - -<p class="normal">She had never asked or taken charity, the old woman said, and now she -did not need it.</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady pondered for a few minutes, considering the character of her -ancient hostess, trying it by her experience and intuition; and thus -she boldly asked her for the whole history of young John Hastings and -the cottage girl.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell me all," she said, "for I wish to know it--I have an interest in -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay?" said the old woman, gazing at her, "then you are the pretty lady -Sir Philip was to have married, but would not have her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The same," replied the visitor, and for an instant a bright red spot -arose upon her cheek--a pang like a knife passed through her heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">That was the price she paid for the gratification of her curiosity. -But it probably was gratified, for she stayed nearly an hour and a -half in the cottage--so long, indeed, that her servants, who were with -the carriage, became alarmed, and one of the footmen walked up the -hill. He met his lady coming down.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Poor thing," she said, as if speaking of the old woman she had just -left, "her senses wander a little; but she is poor, and has been much -persecuted. I must do what I can for her. Whenever she comes to the -house, see she is admitted."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old woman did come often, and always had a conference with the -lady of the mansion; but here let us leave them for the present. They -may appear upon the stage again.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER VIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"MY DEAR SIR PHILIP:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have not seen you or dear Lady Hastings for many months; nor your -sweet Emily either, except at a distance, when one day she passed my -carriage on horseback, sweeping along the hill-side like a gleam of -light. My life is a sad, solitary one here; and I wish my friends -would take more compassion upon me and let me see human faces -oftener--especial faces that I love.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I know that you are very inexorable in these respects, and, -sufficient to yourself, cannot readily conceive how a lone woman can -pine for the society of other more loving friends than books or -nature. I must, therefore, attack the only accessible point I know -about you, meaning your compassion, which you never refuse to those -who really require it. Now I do require it greatly; for I am at this -present engaged in business of a very painful and intricate nature, -which I cannot clearly understand, and in which I have no one to -advise me but a country attorney, whose integrity as well as ability I -much doubt. To whom can I apply so well as to you, when I need the -counsel and assistance of a friend, equally kind, disinterested, and -clear-headed? I venture to do so, then, in full confidence, and ask -you to ride over as soon as you can, to give me your advice, or rather -to decide for me, in a matter where a considerable amount of property -is at stake, and where decision is required immediately. I trust when -you do come you will stay all night, as the business is, I fear, of so -complicated a nature, that it may occupy more than one day of your -valuable time in the affairs of</p> - -<p class="normal">Your faithful and obliged servant, -CAROLINE HAZLETON."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is Mrs. Hazleton's messenger waiting?" asked Sir Philip Hastings, -after having read the letter and mused for a moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">The servant answered in the affirmative; and his master rejoined, -"Tell him I will not write an answer, as I have some business to -attend to; but I beg he will tell his mistress that I will be with her -in three hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings uttered a low-toned exclamation of surprise. She did not -venture to ask any question--indeed she rarely questioned her husband -on any subject; but when anything excited her wonder, or, as was more -frequently the case, her curiosity, she was accustomed to seek for -satisfaction in a somewhat indirect way, by raising her beautiful -eyebrows with a doubtful sort of smile, or, as in the present -instance, by exclaiming, "Good gracious! Dear me!" or giving voice to -some other little vocative, with a note of interrogation strongly -marked after it.</p> - -<p class="normal">In this case there was more than one feeling at the bottom of her -exclamation. She was surprised; she was curious; and she was, -moreover, in the least degree in the world, jealous. She had her share -of weaknesses, as I have said; and one of them was of a kind less -uncommon than may be supposed. Of her husband's conduct she had no -fear--not the slightest suspicion. Indeed, to have entertained any -would have been impossible--but she could not bear to see him liked, -admired, esteemed, by any woman--mark, me, I say by _any woman_; for -no one could feel more triumphant joy than she did when she saw him -duly appreciated by men. She was a great monopolizer: she did not wish -one thought of his to be won away from her by another woman; and a -sort of irritable feeling came upon her even when she saw him seated -by any young and pretty girl, and paying her the common attentions of -society. She was too well bred to display such sensations except by -those slight indications, or by a certain petulance of manner, which -he was not close observer enough of other people's conduct to remark.</p> - -<p class="normal">Not to dwell too long on such things, Sir Philip Hastings, though -perfectly unconscious of what was going on in her heart, rarely kept -her long in suspense, when he saw any signs of curiosity. He perhaps -might think it a point of Roman virtue to spoil his wife, although she -had very little of the Portia in her character. On the present -occasion, he quietly handed over to her the letter of Mrs. Hazleton; -and then summoned a servant and gave orders for various preparations.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Had not I and Emily better go with you?" asked Lady Hastings, -pointing out to him the passage in the letter which spoke of the long -absence of all the family.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not when I am going on business," replied her husband gravely, and -quitted the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">An hour after, Philip Hastings was on horseback with a servant -carrying a valise behind him, and riding slowly through the park. The -day was far advanced, and the distance was likely to occupy about an -hour and a half in travelling; but the gentleman had fallen into a -reverie, and rode very slowly. They passed the park gates; they took -their way down the lane by the church and near the parsonage. Here Sir -Philip pulled in his horse suddenly, and ordered the man to ride on -and announce that he would be at Mrs. Hazleton's soon after. He then -fastened his horse to a large hook, put up for the express purpose on -most country houses of that day in England, and walked up to the door. -It was ajar, and without ceremony he walked in, as he was often -accustomed to do, and entered the little study of the rector.</p> - -<p class="normal">The clergyman himself was not there; but there were two persons in the -room, one a young and somewhat dashing-looking man, one or two and -twenty years of age, exceedingly handsome both in face and figure; -the other personage past the middle age, thin, pale, eager and -keen-looking, in whom Sir Philip instantly recognized a well known, -but not very well reputed attorney, of a country town about twenty -miles distant. They had one of the large parish books before them, and -were both bending over it with great appearance of earnestness.</p> - -<p class="normal">The step of Sir Philip Hastings roused them, and turning round, the -attorney bowed law, saying, "I give you good day, Sir Philip. I hope I -have the honor of seeing you well."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite so," was the brief reply, and it was followed by an inquiry for -the pastor, who it seemed had gone into another room for some papers -which were required.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time the younger of the two previous occupants of the room -had been gazing at Sir Philip Hastings with a rude, familiar stare, -which the object of it did not remark; and in another moment the -clergyman himself appeared, carrying a bundle of old letters in his -hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was a heavy, somewhat timid man, the reverse of his predecessor in -all things, but a very good sort of person upon the whole. On seeing -the baronet there, however, something seemed strangely to affect -him--a sort of confused surprise, which, after various stammering -efforts, burst forth as soon as the usual salutation was over, in the -words, "Pray, Sir Philip, did you come by appointment?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings, as the reader already knows, was a somewhat -unobservant man of what was passing around him in the world. He had -his own deep, stern trains of thought, which he pursued with a -passionate earnestness almost amounting to monomania. The actions, -words, and even looks of those few in whom he took an interest, he -could sometimes watch and comment on in his own mind with intense -study. True, he watched without understanding, and commented wrongly; -for he had too little experience of the motives of others from outward -observation, and found too little sympathy with the general motives of -the world, in his own heart, to judge even those he loved rightly. But -the conduct, the looks, the words of ordinary men, he hardly took the -trouble of remarking; and the good parson's surprise and hesitation, -passed like breath upon a mirror, seen perhaps, but retaining no hold -upon his mind for a moment. Neither did the abrupt question surprise -him; nor the quick, angry look which it called up on the face of the -attorney attract his notice; but he replied quietly to Mr. Dixwell, "I -do not remember having made any appointment with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">The matter was all well so far; and would have continued well; but the -attorney, a meddling fellow, had nearly spoiled all, by calling the -attention of Philip Hastings more strongly to the strangeness of the -clergyman's question.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps," said the man of law, interrupting the baronet in the midst, -"Perhaps Mr. Dixwell thought, Sir Philip, that you came here to speak -with me on the business of the Honorable Mrs. Hazleton. She told me -she would consult you, and I can explain the whole matter to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the clergyman instantly declared that he meant nothing of the -kind; and at the same moment Sir Philip Hastings said, "I beg you will -not, sir. Mrs. Hazleton will explain what she thinks proper to me, -herself. I desire no previous information, as I am now on my way to -her. Why my good friend here should suppose I came by appointment, I -cannot tell. However, I did not; and it does not matter. I only wish, -Mr. Dixwell, to say, that I hear the old woman Danley is ill and -dying. She is a papist, and the foolish people about fancy she is a -witch. Little help or comfort will she obtain from them, even if they -do not injure or insult her. As I shall be absent all night, and -perhaps all to-morrow, I will call at her cottage as I ride over to -Mrs. Hazleton's and inquire into her wants. I will put down on paper, -and leave there, what I wish my people to do for her; but there is one -thing which I must request you to do, namely, to take every means, by -exhortation and remonstrance, to prevent the ignorant peasantry from -troubling this poor creature's death-bed. Her sad errors in matters of -faith should only at such a moment make us feel the greater compassion -for her."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Dixwell thought differently, for though a good man, he was a -fanatic. He did not indeed venture to think of disobeying the -injunction of the great man of the parish--the man who now held both -the Hastings and the Marshal property; but he would fain have detained -Sir Philip to explain and make clear to him the position--as clear as -a demonstration in Euclid to his own mind--that all Roman Catholics -ought to be, at the very least, banished from the country for ever.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Sir Philip Hastings was not inclined to listen, and although the -good man began the argument in a solemn tone, his visitor, falling -into a fit of thought, walked slowly out of the room, along the -passage, through the door, and mounted his horse, without effectually -hearing one word, though they were many which Mr. Dixwell showered -upon him as he followed.</p> - -<p class="normal">At his return to his little study, the parson found the young man and -the lawyer, no longer looking at the book, but conversing together -very eagerly, with excited countenances and quick gestures. The moment -he entered, however, they stopped, the young man ending with an oath, -for which the clergyman reproved him on the spot.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is very well, Mr. Dixwell," said the attorney, "and my young -friend here will be much the better for some good admonition; and for -sitting under your ministry, as I trust he will, some day soon; but we -must go I fear directly. However, there is one thing I want to say; -for you had nearly spoiled every thing to-day. No person playing at -cards--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I never touch them," said the parson, with a holy horror in his face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, others do," said the attorney, "and those who do never show -their hand to their opponent. Now, law is like a game of cards--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In which the lawyer is sure to get the odd trick," observed the young -man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And we must not have Sir Philip Hastings know one step that we are -taking," continued the lawyer. "If you have conscience, as I am sure -you have, and honor, as I know you have, you will not suffer any thing -that we have asked you, or said to you, to transpire; for then, of -course, Sir Philip would take every means to prevent our obtaining -information."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not think it," said the parson.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And justice and equity would be frustrated," proceeded the attorney, -"which you are bound by your profession to promote. We want nothing -but justice, Mr. Dixwell: justice, I say; and no one can tell what -card Sir Philip may play."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will trump it with the knave," said the young man to himself; and -having again cautioned the clergyman to be secret, not without some -obscure menaces of danger to himself, if he failed, the two gentlemen -left him, and hurried down, as fast as they could go, to a small -alehouse in the village, where they had left their horses. In a few -minutes, a well known poacher, whose very frequent habitation was the -jail or the cage, was seen to issue forth from the door of the -ale-house, then to lead a very showy looking horse from the stable, -and then to mount him and take his way over the hill. The poacher had -never possessed a more dignified quadruped than a dog or a donkey in -his life; so that it was evident the horse could not be his. That he -was not engaged in the congenial but dangerous occupation of stealing -it, was clear from the fact of the owner of the beast gazing quietly -at him out of the window while he mounted; and then turning round to -the attorney, who sat at a table hard by, and saying, "he is off, I -think."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, let him go," replied the lawyer, "but I do not half like it, -Master John. Every thing in law should be cool and quiet. No -violence--no bustle."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But this is not a matter of law," replied the younger man, "it is a -matter of safety, you fool. What might come of it, if he were to have -a long canting talk with the old wretch upon her death-bed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very little," replied the attorney, in a calm well-assured tone, "I -know her well. She is as hard as a flint stone. She always was, and -time has not softened her. Besides, he has no one with him to take -depositions, and if what you say is true, she'll not live till -morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I tell you, she is getting frightened, as she comes near death!" -exclaimed the young man. "She has got all sorts of fancies into her -head; about hell, and purgatory, and the devil knows what; and she -spoke to my mother yesterday about repentance, and atonement, and a -pack of stuff more, and wanted extreme unction, and to confess to a -priest. It would be a fine salve, I fancy, that could patch up the -wounds in her conscience; but if this Philip Hastings were to come to -her with his grave face and solemn tone, and frighten her still more, -he would get any thing out of her he pleased."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't think it," answered the lawyer deliberately; "hate, Master -John, is the longest lived passion I know. It lasts into the grave, -as I have often seen in making good men's wills when they were -dying--sanctified, good men, I say. Why I have seen a man who has -spent half his fortune in charity, and built alms-houses, leave a -thoughtless son, or a runaway daughter, or a plain-spoken nephew, to -struggle with poverty all his life, refusing to forgive him, and -comforting himself with a text or a pretence. No, no; hate is the only -possession that goes out of the world with a man: and this old witch, -Danby, hates the whole race of Hastings with a goodly strength that -will not decay as her body does. Besides, Sir Philip is well-nigh as -puritanical as his father--a sort of cross-breed between an English -fanatic and an old Roman cynic. She abominates the very sound of his -voice, and nothing would reconcile her to him but his taking the mass -and abjuring the errors of Calvin. Ha! ha! ha! However, as you have -sent the fellow, it cannot be helped. Only remember I had nothing to -do with it if violence follows. That man is not to be trusted, and I -like to keep on the safe side of the law."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, doubtless, doubtless," answered the youth, somewhat thoughtfully; -"it is your shield; and better stand behind than before it. However, I -don't doubt Tom Cutter in the least. Besides, I only told him to -interrupt them in their talk, and take care they had no private -gossip; to stick there till he was gone, and all that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir Philip is not a man to bear such interruption," said the -attorney, gravely; "he is as quiet looking as the deep sea on a -summer's day; but there can come storms, I tell you, John, and then -woe to those who have trusted the quiet look."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, if he gets in a passion, and mischief comes of it," replied the -young man, with a laugh, "the fault is his, you know, Shanks."</p> - -<p class="normal">"True," answered the attorney, meditating, "and perhaps, by a little -clever twisting and timing, we might make something of it if he did, -were there any other person concerned but this Tom Cutter, and we had -a good serviceable witness or two. But this man is such a rogue that -his word is worth nothing; and to thrash him--though the business of -the beadle--would be no discredit to the magistrate. Besides, he is -sure to give the provocation, and one word of Sir Philip's would be -worth a thousand oaths of Tom Cutter's, in any court in the kingdom."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As to thrashing him, that few can do," replied the youth; "but only -remember, Shanks, that I gave no orders for violence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was not present," replied the attorney, with a grin; "you had -better, by a great deal, trust entirely to me, in these things, Master -John. If you do, I will bring you safely through, depend upon it; but -if you do not, nobody can tell what may come. Here comes Folwell, the -sexton. Now hold your tongue, and let me manage him, sir. You are not -acquainted with these matters."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER IX.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Did you ever examine an ant-hill, dear reader? What a -wonderful little -cosmos it is--what an epitome of a great city--of the human race! See -how the little fellows run bustling along upon their several -businesses--see how some get out of each other's way, how others -jostle, and others walk over their fellows' heads! But especially mark -that black gentleman, pulling hard to drag along a fat beetle's leg -and thigh, three times as large as his own body. He cannot get it on, -do what he will; and yet he tugs away, thinking it a very fine haunch -indeed. He does not perceive, what is nevertheless the fact, that -there are two others of his own race pulling at the other end, and -thus frustrating all his efforts.</p> - -<p class="normal">And thus it is with you, and me, and every one in the wide world. We -work blindly, unknowing the favoring or counteracting causes that are -constantly going on around us, to facilitate or impede our endeavors. -The wish to look into futurity is vain, irrational, almost impious; -but what a service would it be to any man if he could but get a sight -into Fate's great workshop, and see only that part in which the events -are on the anvil that affect our own proceedings. Still, even if we -did, we might not understand the machinery after all, and only burn or -pinch our fingers in trying to put pieces together which fate did not -intend to fit.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time--that is to say while the attorney and his companion -were talking together at the alehouse--Sir Philip Hastings rode -quietly up the hill to the cottage I have before described, and -therefore shall not describe again, merely noticing that it now -presented an appearance of neatness and repair which it had not before -possessed. He tied his horse to the palings, walked slowly up the -little path, gazing right and left at the cabbages and carrots on -either side, and then without ceremony went in.</p> - -<p class="normal">The cottage had two tenants at this time, the invalid old woman, and -another, well-nigh as old but less decrepit, who had been engaged to -attend upon her in her sickness. How she got the money to pay her no -one knew, for her middle life and the first stage of old age had been -marked by poverty and distress; but somehow money seems to have a -natural affinity for old age. It grows upon old people, I think, like -corns; and certainly she never wanted money now.</p> - -<p class="normal">There she was, lying in her bed, a miserable object indeed to see. She -was like a woman made of fungus--not of that smooth, putty-like, -fleshy fungus which grows in dank places, but of the rough, rugged, -brown, carunculated sort which rises upon old stumps of trees and -dry-rot gate-posts. Teeth had departed nearly a quarter of a century -before, and the aquiline features had become more hooked and beaky for -their loss; but the eyes had now lost their keen fire, and were dull -and filmy.</p> - -<p class="normal">The attorney was quite right. Hate was the last thing to go out in the -ashes where the spark of life itself lingered, but faintly. At first -she could not see who it was entered the cottage; for the sight now -reached but a short distance from her own face. But the sound of his -voice, as he inquired of the other old woman how she was going on, at -once showed her who it was, and hate at least roused "the dull cold -ear of death."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment or two she lay muttering sounds which seemed to have no -meaning; but at length she said, distinctly enough, "Is that Philip -Hastings?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, my poor woman," said the baronet; "is there any thing I can do -for you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come nearer, come nearer," she replied, "I cannot see you plainly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am close to you, nevertheless," he answered. "I am touching the bed -on which you lie."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me feel you," continued she--"give me your hand."</p> - -<p class="normal">He did as she asked him; and holding by his hand, she made a great -struggle to raise herself in bed; but she could not, and lay exhausted -for a minute before she spoke again.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, however, she raised her voice louder and shriller than -before--"May a curse rest upon this hand and upon that head!" she -exclaimed; "may the hand work its own evil, and the head its own -destruction! May the child of your love poison your peace, and make -you a scoff, and a by-word, and a shame! May the wife of your bosom -perish by----"</p> - -<p class="normal">But Sir Philip Hastings withdrew his hand suddenly, and an unwonted -flush came upon his cheek.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For shame!" he said, in a low stern tone, "for shame!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The next moment, however, he recovered himself perfectly; and turning -to the nurse he added, "Poor wretch! my presence only seems to excite -evil feelings which should long have passed away, and are not fit -counsellors for the hour of death. If there be any thing which can -tend to her bodily comfort that the hall can supply, send up for it. -The servants have orders. Would that any thing could be done for her -spiritual comfort; for this state is terrible to witness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She often asks for a priest, your worship," said the nurse. "Perhaps -if she could see one she might think better before she died."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas, I doubt it," replied the visitor; "but at all events we cannot -afford her that relief. No such person can be found here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know, Sir Philip," said the old woman, with a good deal of -hesitation; "they do say that at Carrington, there is--there is what -they call a seminary."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do not mean a papist college!" exclaimed the baronet, with -unfeigned surprise and consternation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, dear, no sir," replied the nurse, "only a gentleman--a -seminary--a seminary priest, I think they call it; a papist certainly; -but they say he is a very good gentleman, all but that."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip mused for a minute or two, and then turned to the door, -saying, "Methinks it is hard that a dying woman cannot have the -consolations of the rites of her own faith--mummery though they be. As -a magistrate, my good woman, I can give no authority in this business. -You must do as you think fit. I myself know of no priest in this -neighborhood, or I should be bound to cause his apprehension. I shall -take no notice of your word, however, and as to the rest, you must, as -I have said, act as you think fit. I did not make the laws, and I may -think them cruel. Did I make them, I would not attempt to shackle the -conscience of any one. Farewell," and passing through the door, he -remounted his horse and rode away.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was in the early autumn time of the year, and the scene was -peculiarly lovely. I have given a slight description of it before, but -I must pause and dwell upon it once more, even as Sir Philip Hastings -paused and dwelt upon its loveliness at that moment, although he had -seen and watched it a thousand times before. He was not very -impressible by fine scenery. Like the sages of Laputa, his eyes were -more frequently turned inwards than outwards; but there was something -in that landscape which struck a chord in his heart, that is sure to -vibrate easily in the heart of every one of his countrymen.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was peculiarly English--I might say singularly English; for I have -never seen any thing of exactly the same character anywhere else but -in Old England--except indeed in New England, where I know not whether -it be from the country having assimilated itself to the people, or -from the people having chosen the country from the resemblance to -their own paternal dwelling place, many a scene strikes the eye which -brings back to the wandering Englishman all the old, dear feelings of -his native land, and for a moment he may well forget that the broad -Atlantic rolls between him and and the home of his youth.</p> - -<p class="normal">But let me return to my picture. Sir Philip Hastings sat upon his -horse's back, very nearly at the summit of the long range of hills -which bisected the county in which he dwelt. I have described, in -mentioning his park, the sandy character of the soil on the opposite -slope of the rise; but here higher up, and little trodden by -pulverizing feet, the sandstone rock itself occasionally broke out in -rugged maps, diversifying the softer characteristics of the scene. -Wide, and far away, on either hand, the eye could wander along the -range, catching first upon some bold mass of hill, or craggy piece of -ground, assuming almost the character of a cliff, seen in hard and -sharp distinctness, with its plume of trees and coronet of yellow -gorse, and then, proceeding onward to wave after wave, the sight -rested upon the various projecting points, each softer and softer as -they receded, like the memories of early days, till the last lines of -the wide sweep left the mind doubtful whether they were forms of earth -or clouds, or merely fancy.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was the scene on either hand, but straightforward it was very -different, but still quite English. Were you ever, reader, borne to -the top of a very high wave in a small boat, and did you ever, looking -down the watery mountain, mark how the steep descent, into the depth -below, was checkered by smaller waves, and these waves again by -ripples? Such was the character of the view beneath the feet of the -spectator. There was a gradual, easy descent from the highest point of -the whole county down to a river-nurtured valley, not unbroken, but -with lesser and lesser waves of earth, varying the aspect of the -scene. These waves again were marked out, first by scattered and -somewhat stunted trees, then by large oaks and chestnuts, not -undiversified by the white and gleaming bark of the graceful birch. A -massive group of birches here and there was seen; a scattered cottage, -too, with its pale bluish wreath of smoke curling up over the -tree-tops. Then, on the lower slope of all, came hedgerows of elms, -with bright green rolls of verdant turf between; the spires of -churches; the roofs and white walls of many sorts of man's -dwelling-places, and gleams of a bright river, with two or three -arches of a bridge. Beyond that again appeared a rich wide valley--I -might almost have called it a plain, all in gay confusion, with -fields, and houses, and villages, and trees, and streams, and towns, -mixed altogether in exquisite disorder, and tinted with all the -variety of colors and shades that belong to autumn and to sunset.</p> - -<p class="normal">Down the descent, the eye of Sir Philip Hastings could trace several -roads and paths, every step of which he knew, like daily habits. There -was one, a bridle-way from a town about sixteen miles distant, which, -climbing the hills almost at its outset, swept along the whole range, -about midway between the summit and the valley. Another, by which he -had come, and along which he intended to proceed, traversed the crest -of the hills ere it reached the cottage, and then descended with a -wavy line into the valley, crossing the bridle-path I have mentioned. -A wider path--indeed it might be called a road, though it was not a -turnpike--came over the hills from the left, and with all those easy -graceful turns which Englishmen so much love in their highways, and -Frenchmen so greatly abhor, descended likewise into the valley, to the -small market-town, glimpses of which might be caught over the tops of -the trees. As the baronet sat there on horseback, and looked around, -more than one living object met his eye. To say nothing of some sheep -wandering along the uninclosed part of the hill, now stopping to -nibble the short grass, now trotting forward for a sweeter bite,--not -to notice the oxen in the pastures below, there was a large cart -slowly winding its way along an open part of the road, about half a -mile distant, and upon the bridle-path which I have mentioned, the -figure of a single horseman was seen, riding quietly and easily along, -with a sauntering sort of air, which gave the beholder at once the -notion that he was what Sterne would have called a "picturesque -traveller," and was enjoying the prospect as he went.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the road that came over the hill from the left, was another rider -of very different demeanor, going along at a rattling pace, and -apparently somewhat careless of his horse's knees.</p> - -<p class="normal">The glance which Sir Philip Hastings gave to either of them was but -slight and hasty. His eyes were fixed upon the scene before him, -feeling, rather than understanding, its beauties, while he commented -In his mind, after his own peculiar fashion. I need not trace the -procession of thought through his brain. It ended, however, with the -half uttered words,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Strange, that such a land should have produced so many scoundrels, -tyrants, and knaves!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He then slowly urged his horse forward, down the side of the hill, -soon reached some tall trees, where the inclosures and hedgerows -commenced, and was approaching the point at which the road he was -travelling, crossed the bridle-path, when he heard some loud, and as -it seemed to him, angry words, passing between two persons he could -not see.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will soon teach you that;" cried a loud, coarse tongue, adding an -exceedingly blasphemous oath, which I will spare the reader.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My good friend," replied another milder voice, "I neither desire to -be taught any thing, just now, nor would you be the teacher I should -chose, if I did, though perchance, in case of need, I might give you a -lesson, which would be of some service to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip rode on, and the next words he heard were spoken by the -first voice, to the following effect; "Curse me, if I would not try -that, only my man might get off in the mean time; and I have other -business in hand than yours. Otherwise I would give you such a licking -in two minutes, you would be puzzled to find a white spot on your skin -for the neat month."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Two minutes would not detain you long," replied the calmer voice, -"and, as I have never had such a beating, I should like to see, first, -whether you could give it, and secondly, what it would be like."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my soul, you are cool!" exclaimed the first speaker with another -oath.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perfectly," replied the second; and, at the same moment, Sir Philip -Hastings emerged from among the trees, at the point where the two -roads crossed, and where the two speakers were face to face before his -eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">The one, who was in truth the sauntering traveller whom he has seen -wending along the bridle-path, was a tall, good-looking young man, of -three or four and twenty years of age. In the other, the Baronet had -no difficulty in recognizing at once, Tom Cutter, the notorious -poacher and bruiser, whom he had more than once had the satisfaction -of committing to jail. To see him mounted on a very fine powerful -horse, was a matter of no slight surprise to Sir Philip; but, -naturally concluding that he had stolen it, and was making off with -his prize for sale to the neighboring town, he rode forward and put -himself right in the way, determined to stop him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay! Here is my man!" cried Tom Cutter, as soon as he saw him. "I -will settle with him first, and then for you, my friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, to an old proverb, first come must be first served," replied -the traveller, pushing his horse forward a few steps.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Keep the peace, in the King's name!" exclaimed Sir Philip Hastings. -"I, as a magistrate, charge you, sir, to assist me in apprehending -this man!--Thomas Cutter, get off that horse!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The only reply was a coarse and violent expletive, and a blow with a -thick heavy stick, aimed right at Sir Philip's head. The magistrate -put up his arm, which received the blow, and was nearly fractured by -it; but at the same moment, the younger traveller spurred forward his -horse upon the ruffian, and with one sweep of his arm struck him to -the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">Tom Cutter was upon, his feet again in a moment. He was accustomed to -hard blows, and like the immortal hero of Butler, could almost tell -the quality of the stick he was beat withal. He was not long in -discovering, therefore, that the fist which struck him was of no -ordinary weight, and was directed with skill as well as with vigor; -but he was accustomed to make it his boast, that he had never taken a -licking "from any man," which vanity caused him at once to risk such -another blow, in the hope of having his revenge.</p> - -<p class="normal">Rushing upon the young stranger then, stick in hand, he prepared to -knock him from his horse; for the other appeared to have no defensive -arms, but a slight hazel twig, pulled from a hedge.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will jump off the other side of his horse," thought Tom Cutter; -"and then, if he do, I'll contrive to knock the nag over upon him. I -know that trick, well enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the stranger disappointed him. Instead of opposing the horse -between him and his assailant, he sprung with one bound out of the -saddle, on the side next to the ruffian himself, caught the uplifted -stick with one hand, and seized the collar of the bruiser's coat with -the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">Tom Cutter began to suspect he had made a mistake; but, knowing that -at such close quarters the stick would avail him little, and that -strength of thews and sinews would avail him much, he dropped the -cudgel, and grappled with the stranger in return.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was all the work of a moment. Sir Philip Hastings had no time to -interfere. There was a momentary struggle, developing the fine -proportions and great strength and skill of the wrestlers; and then, -Tom Cutter lay on his back upon the ground. The next instant, the -victor put his foot upon his chest, and kept the ruffian forcibly -down, notwithstanding all his exclamations of "Curse me, that isn't -fair! When you give a man a fall, let him get up again!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If he is a fair fighter, I do," replied the other; "but when he plays -pirate, I don't--" Then turning to Sir Philip Hastings, who had by -this time dismounted, he said, "What is to be done with this fellow, -sir? It seems he came here for the express purpose of assaulting you, -for he began his impertinence, with asking if you had passed, giving a -very accurate description of your person, and swearing you should find -every dog would have his day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"His offence towards myself," replied the Baronet, "I will pass over, -for it seems to me, he has been punished enough in his own way; but I -suspect he has stolen this horse. He is a man of notoriously bad -character, who can never have obtained such an animal by honest -means."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I didn't steal him, I vow and swear," cried the ruffian, in a -piteous tone; for bullies are almost always cravens; "he was lent to -me by Johny Groves--some call him another name; but that don't -signify.--He lent him to me, to come up here, to stop your gab with -the old woman, Mother Danty; and mayhap to give you a good basting -into the bargain. But I didn't steal the horse no how; and there he -is, running away over the hill-side, and I shall never catch him; for -this cursed fellow has well nigh broken my back."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Served you quite right, my friend," replied the stranger, still -keeping him tightly down with his foot. "How came you to use a cudgel -to a man who had none? Take my advice, another time, and know your man -before you meddle with him."</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time Sir Philip Hastings had fallen into a profound -reverie, only repeating to himself the words "John Groves." Now the -train of thought which was awakened in his mind, though not quite new, -was unpleasant to him; for the time when he first became familiar with -that name was immediately subsequent to the opening of his father's -will, in which had been found a clause ordering the payment of a -considerable sum of money to some very respectable trustees, for the -purpose of purchasing an annuity in favor of one John Groves, then a -minor.</p> - -<p class="normal">There had been something about the clause altogether which the son and -heir of Sir John Hastings could not understand, and did not like. -However, the will enjoined him generally to make no inquiry whatsoever -into the motives of any of the bequests, and with his usual stern -rigidity in what he conceived right, he had not only asked no -questions, but had stopped bluntly one of the trustees, who was about -to enter into some explanations. The money was paid according to -directions received, and he had never heard the name of John Groves -from that moment till it issued from the lips of the ruffian upon the -present occasion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What the man says may be true," said Sir Philip Hastings, at length; -"there is a person of the name he mentions. I know not how I can have -offended him. It may be as well to let him rise and catch his horse if -he can; but remember, Master Cutter, my eye is upon you; two competent -witnesses have seen you in possession of that horse, and if you -attempt to sell him, you will hang for it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know better than to do that," said the bruiser, rising stiffly from -the ground as the stranger withdrew his foot; "but I can tell you, Sir -Philip, others have their eyes upon you, so you had better look to -yourself. You hold your head mightily top high, just now: but it may -chance to come down."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings did not condescend to reply, even by a look; but -turning to the stranger, as if the man's words had never reached his -ear, he said, "I think we had better ride on, sir. You seem to be -going my way. Night is falling fast, and in this part of the country -two is sometimes a safer number to travel with than one."</p> - -<p class="normal">The other bowed his head gravely, and remounting their horses they -proceeded on the way before them, while Tom Cutter, after giving up -some five minutes to the condemnation of the eyes, limbs, blood, and -soul of himself and several other persons, proceeded to catch the -horse which he had been riding as fast as he could. But the task -proved a difficult one.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER X.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The two horsemen rode on their way. Neither spoke for several -minutes. -Sir Philip Hastings pondering sternly on all that had passed, and his -younger companion gazing upon the scene around flooded with the -delicious rays of sunset, as if nothing had passed at all.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip, as I have shown the reader, had a habit of brooding over -any thing which excited much interest in his breast--nay more, of -extracting from it, by a curious sort of alchemy, essence very -different from its apparent nature, sometimes bright, fine, and -beneficial, and others dark and maleficent. The whole of the -transaction just past disturbed him much; it puzzled him; it set his -imagination running upon a thousand tracks, and most of them wrong -ones; and thought was not willing to be called from her vagaries to -deal with any other subject than that which preoccupied her.</p> - -<p class="normal">The young stranger, on the other hand, seemed one of those characters -which take all things much more lightly. In the moment of action, he -had shown skill, resolution, and energy enough, but as he sat there on -his horse's back, looking round at every point of any interest to an -admirer of nature with an easy, calm and unconcerned air, no one who -saw him could have conceived that he had been engaged the moment -before in so fierce though short a struggle. There was none of the -heat of the combatant or the triumph of the victor in his air or -countenance, and his placid and equable expression of face contrasted -strongly with the cloud which sat upon the brow of his companion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I beg your pardon, sir, for my gloomy silence," said Sir Philip -Hastings, at length, conscious that his demeanor was not very -courteous, "but this affair troubles me. Besides certain relations -which it bears to matters of private concernment, I am not satisfied -as to how I should deal with the ruffian we have suffered to depart so -easily. His assault upon myself I do not choose to treat harshly; but -the man is a terror to the country round, committing many an act to -which the law awards a very insufficient punishment, but with cunning -sufficient to keep within that line, the passage beyond which would -enable society to purge itself of such a stain upon it; how to deal -with him, I say, embarrasses me greatly. I have committed him two or -three times to prison already; and I am inclined to regret that I did -not, on this occasion, when he was in the very act of breaking the -law, send my sword through him, and I should have been well justified -in doing so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, sir, methinks that would have been too much," replied his -companion; "he has had a fall, which, if I judge rightly, will be a -sufficient punishment for his assault upon you. According to the very -_lex talionis_, he has had what he deserves. If he has nearly broke -your arm, I think I have nearly broken his back."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not his punishment for any offence to myself, sir, I seek," -replied the baronet; "it is a duty to society to free it from the load -of such a man whenever he himself affords the opportunity of doing so. -Herein the law would have justified me, but even had it not been so, I -can conceive many cases where it may be necessary for the benefit of -our country and society to go beyond what the law will justify, and to -make the law for the necessity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Brutus, and a few of his friends, did so," replied the young stranger -with a smile, "and we admire them very much for so doing, but I am -afraid we should hang them, nevertheless, if they were in a position -to try the thing over again. The illustration of the gibbet and the -statue might have more applications than one, for I sincerely believe, -if we could revive historical characters, we should almost in all -cases erect a gallows for those to whom we now raise a monument."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings turned and looked at him attentively, and saw his -face was gay and smiling. "You take all these things very lightly -sir," he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"With a safe lightness," replied the stranger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, with something more," rejoined his companion; "in your short -struggle with that ruffian, you sprang upon him, and overthrew him -like a lion, with a fierce activity which I can hardly imagine really -calmed down so soon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"O yes it is, my dear sir," replied the stranger, "I am somewhat of a -stoic in all things. It is not necessary that rapidity of thought and -action, in a moment of emergency, should go one line beyond the -occasion, or sink one line deeper than the mere reason. The man who -suffers his heart to be fluttered, or his passions to be roused, by -any just action he is called upon to do, is not a philosopher. -Understand me, however; I do not at all pretend to be quite perfect in -my philosophy; but, at all events, I trust I schooled myself well -enough not to suffer a wrestling match with a contemptible animal like -that, to make my pulse beat a stroke quicker after the momentary -effort is over."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings was charmed with the reply; for though it was a -view of philosophy which he could not and did not follow, however much -he might agree to it, yet the course of reasoning and the sources of -argument were so much akin to those he usually sought, that he fancied -he had at length found a man quite after his own heart. He chose to -express no farther opinion upon the subject, however, till he had seen -more of his young companion; but that more he determined to see. In -the mean time he easily changed the conversation, saying, "You seemed -to be a very skilful and practised wrestler, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was brought up in Cornwall," replied the other, "though not a -Cornish man, and having no affinity even with the Terse and the -Tees--an Anglo Saxon, I am proud to believe, for I look upon that race -as the greatest which the world has yet produced."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, superior to the Roman?" asked Sir Philip.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, even so," answered the stranger, "with as much energy, as much -resolution, less mobility, more perseverance, with many a quality -which the Roman did not possess. The Romans have left us many a fine -lesson which we are capable of practising as well as they, while we -can add much of which they had no notion."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should like much to discuss the subject with you more at large," -said Sir Philip Hastings, in reply; "but I know not whether we have -time sufficient to render it worth while to begin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I really hardly know, either," answered the young stranger; "for, in -the first place, I am unacquainted with the country, and in the next -place, I know not how far you are going. My course tends towards a -small town called Hartwell--or, as I suspect it ought to be Hartswell, -probably from some fountain a which hart and hind used to come and -drink."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am going a little beyond it," replied Sir Philip Hastings, "so that -our journey will be for the next ten miles together;" and with this -good space of time before him, the baronet endeavored to bring his -young companion back to the subject which had been started, a very -favorite one with him at all times.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the stranger seemed to have his hobbies as well as Sir Philip, and -having dashed into etymology in regard to Hartwell, he pursued it with -an avidity which excluded all other topics.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I believe," he said, not in the least noticing Sir Philip's -dissertation on Roman virtues--"my own belief is, that there is not a -proper name in England, except a few intruded upon us by the Normans, -which might not easily be traced to accidental circumstances in the -history of the family or the place. Thus, in the case of Aylesbury, or -Eaglestown, from which it is derived, depend upon it the place has -been noted as a resort for eagles in old times, coming thither -probably for the ducks peculiar to that place. Bristol, in Anglo -Saxon, meaning the place of a bridge, is very easily traceable; and -Costa, or Costaford, meaning in Anglo Saxon the tempter's ford, -evidently derives its name from monk or maiden having met the enemy of -man or womankind at that place, and having had cause to rue the -encounter. All the Hams, all the Tons, and all the Sons, lead us at -once to the origin of the name, to say nothing of all the points of -the compass, all the colors of the rainbow, and every trade that the -ingenuity of man has contrived to invent."</p> - -<p class="normal">In vain Sir Philip Hastings for the next half hour endeavored to bring -him back to what he considered more important questions. He had -evidently had enough of the Romans for the time being, and indulged -himself in a thousand fanciful speculations upon every other subject -but that, till Sir Philip, who at one time had rated his intellect -very highly, began to think him little better than a fool. Suddenly, -however, as if from a sense of courtesy rather than inclination, the -young man let his older companion have his way in the choice of -subject, and in his replies showed such depth of thought, such a -thorough acquaintance with history, and such precise and definite -views, that once more the baronet changed his opinion, and said to -himself, "This is a fine and noble intellect indeed, nearly spoiled by -the infection of a corrupt and frivolous world, but which might be -reclaimed, if fortune would throw him in the way of those whose -principles have been fixed and tried."</p> - -<p class="normal">He pondered upon the matter for some short time. It was now completely -dark, and the town to which the stranger was going distant not a -quarter of a mile. The little stars were looking out in the heavens, -peering at man's actions like bright-eyed spies at night; but the moon -had not risen, and the only light upon the path was reflected from the -flashing, dancing stream that ran along beside the road, seeming to -gather up all the strong rays from the air, and give them back again -with interest.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are coming very near Hartwell," said Sir Philip, at length; "but -it is somewhat difficult to find from this road, and being, but little -out of my way, I will accompany you thither, and follow the high road -onwards."</p> - -<p class="normal">The stranger was about to express his thanks, but the Baronet stopped -him, saying, "Not in the least, my young friend. I am pleased with -your conversation, and should be glad to cultivate your acquaintance -if opportunity should serve. I am called Sir Philip Hastings, and -shall be glad to see you at any time, if you are passing near my -house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall certainly wait upon you, Sir Philip, if I stay any time in -this county," replied the other. "That, however, is uncertain, for I -come here merely on a matter of business, which may be settled in a -few hours--indeed it ought to be so, for it seems to me very simple. -However, it may detain me much longer, and then I shall not fail to -take advantage of your kind permission."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke gravely, and little more was said till they entered the small -town of Hartwell, about half through which a large gibbet-like bar was -seen projecting from the front of a house, suspending a large board, -upon which was painted a star. The light shining from the windows of -an opposite house fell upon the symbol, and the stranger, drawing in -his rein, said, "Here is my inn, and I will now wish you good night, -with many thanks, Sir Philip."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Methinks it is I should thank you," replied the Baronet, "both for a -pleasant journey, and for the punishment you inflicted on the ruffian -Cutter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As for the first," said the stranger, "that has been more than -repaid, if indeed it deserved thanks at all; and as for the other, -that was a pleasure in itself. There is a great satisfaction to me in -breaking down the self-confidence of one of these burly bruisers."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, he dismounted, again wishing Sir Philip good night, and -the latter rode on upon his way. His meditations, as he went, were -altogether upon the subject of the young stranger; for, as I have -shown, Sir Philip rarely suffered two ideas to get any strong grasp of -his mind at the same time. He revolved, and weighed, and dissected -every thing the young man had said, and the conclusion that he came to -was even more favorable than at first. He seemed a man after his own -heart, with just sufficient differences of opinion and diversities of -character to make the Baronet feel a hankering for some opportunity of -moulding and modelling him to his own standard of perfection. Who he -could be, he could not by any means divine. That he was a gentleman in -manners and character, there could be no doubt. That he was not rich, -Sir Philip argued from the fact of his not having chosen the best inn -in the little town, and he might also conclude that he was of no very -distinguished family, as he had not thought fit to mention his own -name in return for the Baronet's frank invitation.</p> - -<p class="normal">Busy with these thoughts Sir Philip rode on but slowly, and took -nearly half an hour to reach the gates of Mrs. Hazleton's park, though -they stood only two miles' distance from the town. He arrived before -them at length, however, and rang the bell. The lodge-keeper opened -them but slowly, and putting his horse to a quicker pace, Sir Philip -trotted up the avenue towards the house. He had not reached it, -however, when he heard the sound of horses feet behind him, and, as he -was dismounting at the door, his companion of the way rode quickly up -and sprang to the ground, saying, with a laugh--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I find, Sir Philip, that we are both to enjoy the same quarters -to-night, for, on my arrival at Hartwell, I did not expect to visit -this house till to-morrow morning. Mrs. Hazleton, however, has very -kindly had my baggage brought up from the inn, and therefore I have no -choice but to intrude upon her to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke the doors of the house were thrown open, servants came -forth to take the horses, and the two gentlemen were ushered at once -into Mrs. Hazleton's receiving-room.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton was looking as beautiful as she had been at -twenty--perhaps more so; for the few last years before the process of -decay commences, sometimes adds rather than detracts from woman's -loveliness. She was dressed with great skill and taste too; nay, even -with peculiar care. The hair, which had not yet even one silver thread -in its wavy mass, was so arranged as to hide, in some degree, that -height and width of forehead which gave almost too intellectual an -expression to her countenance--which, upon some occasions, rendered -the expression (for the features were all feminine) more that of a man -than that of a woman. Her dress was very simple in appearance though -costly in material; but it had been chosen and fitted by the nicest -art, of colors which best harmonized with her complexion, and in forms -rather to indicate beauties than to display them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus attired, with grace and dignity in every motion, she advanced to -meet Sir Philip Hastings, frankly holding out her hand to him, and -beaming on him one of her most lustrous smiles. It was all thrown away -upon him indeed; but that did not matter. It had its effect in another -quarter. She then turned to the younger gentleman with a greater -degree of reserve in manner, but yet, as she spoke to him and welcomed -him to her house, the color deepened on her cheek with a blush that -would not have been lost to Sir Philip if he had been at all in the -custom of making use of them. They had evidently met before, but not -often and her words, "Good evening, Mr. Marlow, I am glad to see you -at my house at length," were said in the tone if one who was really -glad, but did not wish to show it too plainly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have come with my friend, Sir Philip Hastings," she added; "I did -not know you were acquainted."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nor were we, my dear madam, till this evening," replied the Baronet, -speaking for himself and his companion of the road, "till we met by -accident on the hill-side on our way hither. We had a somewhat -unpleasant encounter with a notorious personage of the name of Tom -Cutter, which brought us first into acquaintance; though, till you -uttered it, my young friend's name was unknown to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tom Cutter! is that the man who poaches all my game?" said the lady, -in a musing tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nor was she musing of Tom Cutter, or the lost game, or of the sins and -iniquities of poaching; neither one or the other. The exclamation and -inquiry taken together were only one of those little half-unconscious -stratagems of human nature, by which we often seek to amuse the other -parties in conversation--and sometimes amuse our own outward man -too--while the little spirit within is busily occupied with some -question which we do not wish our interlocutors to have any thing to -do with. She was asking herself, in fact, what had been the -conversation with which Sir Philip Hastings and Mr. Marlow had -beguiled the way--whether they had talked of her--whether they had -talked of her affairs--and how she could best get some information on -the subject without seeming to seek it.</p> - -<p class="normal">She soon had an opportunity of considering the matter more at leisure, -for Sir Philip Hastings, with some remark as to "dusty dresses not -being fit for ladies' drawing-rooms," retired for a time to the -chamber prepared for him. The fair lady of the house detained Mr. -Marlow indeed for a few minutes, talking with him in a pleasant and -gentle tone, and making her bright eyes do their best in the way of -captivating. She expressed regret that she had not seen him more -frequently, and expressed a hope, in very graceful terms, that even -the painful question, which those troublesome men of law had started -between them, might be a means of ripening their acquaintance into -friendship.</p> - -<p class="normal">The young gentleman replied with all gallantry, but with due -discretion, and then retired to his room to change his dress. He -certainly was a very good-looking young man; finely formed, and with a -pleasing though not regularly handsome countenance; and perhaps he -left Mrs. Hazleton other matters to meditate of than the topics of his -conversation with Sir Philip Hastings. Certain it is, that when the -baronet returned very shortly after, he found his beautiful hostess in -a profound reverie, from which his sudden entrance made her start with -a bewildered look not common to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am very glad to talk to you for a few moments alone, my dear -friend," said Mrs. Hazleton, after a moment's pause. "This Mr. Marlow -is the gentleman who claims the very property on which you now stand;" -and she proceeded to give her hearer, partly by spontaneous -explanations, partly by answers to his questions, her own view of the -case between herself and Mr. Marlow; laboring hard and skilfully to -prepossess the mind of Sir Philip Hastings with a conviction of her -rights as opposed to that of her young guest.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you mean to say, my dear madam," asked Sir Philip, "that he claims -the whole of this large property? That would be a heavy blow indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, dear, no," replied the lady; "the great bulk of the property is -mine beyond all doubt, but the land on which this house stands, and -rather more than a thousand acres round it, was bought by my poor -father before I was born, I believe, as affording the most eligible -site for a mansion. He never liked the old house near your place, and -built this for himself. Mr. Marlow's lawyers now declare that his -grand-uncle, who sold the land to my father, had no power to sell it; -that the property was strictly entailed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will be easily ascertained," said Sir Philip Hastings; "and I am -afraid, my dear madam, if that should prove the case, you will have no -remedy but to give up the property."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But is not that very hard?" asked Mrs. Hazleton, "the Marlows -certainly had the money."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will make no difference," replied Sir Philip, musing; "this -young man's grand-uncle may have wronged your father; but he is not -responsible for the act, and I am very much afraid, moreover, that his -claim may not be limited to the property itself. Back rents, I -suspect, might be claimed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that is what my lawyer, Mr. Shanks, says," replied Mrs. Hazleton, -with a bewildered look; "he tells me that if Mr. Marlow is successful -in the suit, I shall have to pay the whole of the rents of the land. -But Shanks added that he was quite certain of beating him if we could -retain for our counsel Sargeant Tutham and Mr. Doubledo."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Shanks is a rogue," said Sir Philip Hastings, in a calm, equable -tone; "and the two lawyers you have named bear the reputation of being -learned and unscrupulous men. The first point, my dear madam, is to -ascertain whether this young gentleman's claim is just, and then to -deal with him equitably, which, in the sense I affix to the term, may -be somewhat different from legal."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I really do not know what to do," cried Mrs. Hazleton, with a slight -laugh, as if at her own perplexity. "I Was never in such a situation -in my life;" and then she added, very rapidly and in a jocular tone, -as if she were afraid of pausing upon or giving force to any one word, -"if my poor father had been alive, he would have settled it all after -his own way soon enough. He was a great match-maker you know, Sir -Philip, and he would have proposed, in spite of all obstacles, a -marriage between the two parties, to settle the affair by matrimony -instead of by law," and she laughed again as if the very idea was -ridiculous.</p> - -<p class="normal">Unlearned Sir Philip thought so too, and most improperly replied, "The -difference of age would of course put that out of the question;" nor -when he had committed the indiscretion, did he perceive the red spot -which came upon Mrs. Hazleton's fair brow, and indicated sufficiently -enough the effect his words had produced. There was an ominous silent -pause, however, for a minute, and then the Baronet was the person to -resume the discourse in his usual calm, argumentative tone. "I do not -think," he said, "from Mr. Marlow's demeanor or conversation, that he -is likely to be very exacting in this matter. His claim, however, must -be looked to in the first place, before we admit any thing on your -part. If the property was really entailed, he has undoubtedly a right -to it, both in honesty and in law; but methinks there he might limit -his claim if his sense of real equity be strong; but the entail must -be made perfectly clear before you can admit so much as that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, sir," said Mrs. Hazleton, hastily, for she heard a step -on the outer stairs, "I will leave it entirely to you, Sir Philip, I -am sure you will take good care of my interests."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip did not altogether like the word interests, and bowing his -head somewhat stiffly, he added, "and of your honor, my dear madam."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton liked his words as little as he did hers, and she -colored highly. She made no reply, indeed, but his words that night -were never forgotten.</p> - -<p class="normal">The next moment Mr. Marlow entered the room with a quiet, easy air, -evidently quite unconscious of having been the subject of -conversation. During the evening he paid every sort of polite -attention to his fair hostess, and undoubtedly showed signs and -symptoms of thinking her a very beautiful and charming woman. Whatever -was her game, take my word for it, reader, she played it skilfully, -and the very fact of her retiring early, at the very moment when she -had made the most favorable impression, leaving Sir Philip Hastings to -entertain Mr. Marlow at supper, was not without its calculation.</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as the lady was gone, Sir Philip turned to the topic of Mrs. -Hazleton's business with his young companion, and managed the matter -more skilfully than might have been expected. He simply told him that -Mrs. Hazleton had mentioned a claim made upon her estate by his -lawyers, and had thought it better to leave the investigation of the -affair to her friend, rather than to professional persons.</p> - -<p class="normal">A frank good-humored smile came upon Mr. Marlow's face at once. "I am -not a rich man, Sir Philip," he said, "and make no professions of -generosity, but, at the same time, as my grand-uncle undoubtedly had -this money from Mrs. Hazleton's father, I should most likely never -have troubled her on the subject, but that this very estate is the -original seat of our family, on which we can trace our ancestors back -through many centuries. The property was undoubtedly entailed, my -father and my uncle were still living when it was sold, and performed -no disentailing act whatever. This is perfectly susceptible of proof, -and though my claim may put Mrs. Hazleton to some inconvenience, I am -anxious to avoid putting her to any pain. Now I have come down with a -proposal which I confidently trust you will think reasonable. Indeed, -I expected to find her lawyer here rather than an independent friend, -and I was assured that my proposal would be accepted immediately, by -persons who judged of my rights more sanely perhaps than I could."</p> - -<p class="normal">"May I hear what the proposal is?" asked Sir Philip.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Assuredly," replied Mr. Marlow, "it is this: that in the first place -Mrs. Hazleton should appoint some gentleman of honor, either at the -bar or not, as she may think fit, to investigate my claim, with myself -or some other gentleman on my part, with right to call in a third as -umpire between them. I then propose that if my claim should be -distinctly proved, Mrs. Hazleton should surrender to me the lands in -question, I repaying her the sum which my grand-uncle received, and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay," said Sir Philip Hastings, "are you aware that the law would -not oblige you to do that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perfectly," replied Mr. Marlow, "and indeed I am not very sure that -equity would require it either, for I do not know that my father ever -received any benefit from the money paid to his uncle. He may have -received a part however, without my knowing it, for I would rather err -on the right side than on the wrong. I then propose that the rents of -the estate, as shown by the leases, and fair interest upon the value -of the ground surrounding this house, should be computed during the -time that it has been out of our possession, while on the other hand -the legal interest of the money paid for the property should be -calculated for the same period, the smaller sum deducted from the -larger, and the balance paid by me to Mrs. Hazleton or by Mrs. -Hazleton to me, so as to replace every thing in the same state as if -this unfortunate sale had never taken place."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings mused without reply for more than one minute. That -is a long time to muse, and many may be the thoughts and feelings -which pass through the breast of man during that space. They were many -in the present instance, and it would not be very easy to separate or -define them. Sir Philip thought of all the law would have granted to -the young claimant under the circumstances of the case: the whole -property, all the back rents, every improvement that had been made, -the splendid mansion in which they were then standing, without the -payment on his part of a penny: he compared these legal rights with -what he now proposed, and he saw that he had indeed gone a great way -on the generous side of equity. There was something very fine and -noble in this conduct, something that harmonized well with his own -heart and feelings. There was no exaggeration, no romance about it: he -spoke in the tone of a man of business doing a right thing well -considered, and the Baronet was satisfied in every respect but one. -Mrs. Hazleton's words I must not say had created a suspicion, but had -suggested the idea that other feelings might be acting between her and -his young companion, notwithstanding the difference of age which he -had so bluntly pointed out, and he resolved to inquire farther.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time, however, Mr. Marlow somewhat misinterpreted his -silence, and he added, after waiting longer than was pleasant, "Of -course you understand, Sir Philip, that if two or three honest men -decide that my case is unfounded--although I know that cannot be the -case--I agree to drop it at once and renounce it for ever. My -solicitors and counsel in London judged the offer a fair one at -least."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so do I," said Sir Philip Hastings, emphatically; "however, I -must speak with Mrs. Hazleton upon the subject, and express my opinion -to her. Pray, have you the papers regarding your claim with you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have attested copies," replied Mr. Marlow, "and I can bring them to -you in a moment. They are so unusually clear, and seem to put the -matter so completely beyond all doubt, that I brought them down to -satisfy Mrs. Hazleton and her solicitor, without farther trouble, that -my demand at least had some foundation in justice."</p> - -<p class="normal">The papers were immediately brought, and sitting down deliberately, -Sir Philip Hastings went through them with his young friend, carefully -weighing every word. They left not even a doubt on his mind; they -seemed not to leave a chance even for the chicanery of the law, they -were clear, precise, and definite. And the generosity of the young -man's offer stood out even more conspicuously than before.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For my part, I am completely satisfied," said Sir Philip Hastings, -when he had done the examination, "and I have no doubt that Mrs. -Hazleton will be so likewise. She is an excellent and amiable person, -as well as a very beautiful woman. Have you known her long? have you -seen her often?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only once, and that about a year ago," replied Mr. Marlow; "she is -indeed very beautiful as you say--for a woman of her period of life -remarkably so; she puts me very much in mind of my mother, whom I in -the confidence of youthful affection used to call 'my everlasting.' I -recollect doing so only three days before the hand of death wrote upon -her brow the vanity of all such earthly thoughts."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings was satisfied. There was nothing like passion -there. Unobservant as he was in most things, he was more clear-sighted -in regard to matters of love, than any other affection of the human -mind. He had himself loved deeply and intensely, and he had not -forgotten it.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was necessary, before any thing could be concluded, to wait for -Mrs. Hazleton's rising on the following morning; and, bidding Mr. -Marlow good night with a warm grasp of the hand, Sir Philip Hastings -retired to his room and passed nearly an hour in thought, pondering -the character of his new acquaintance, recalling every trait he had -remarked, and every word he had heard. It was a very satisfactory -contemplation. He never remembered to have met with one who seemed so -entirely a being after his own heart. There might be little flaws, -little weaknesses perhaps, but the confirming power of time and -experience would, he thought, strengthen all that was good, and -counsel and example remedy all that was weak or light.</p> - -<p class="normal">"At all events," thought the Baronet, "his conduct on this occasion -shows a noble and equitable spirit. We shall see how Mrs. Hazleton -meets it to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">When that morrow came, he had to see the reverse of the picture, but -it must be reserved for another chapter.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton was up in the morning early. She was at all -times an -early riser, for she well knew what a special conservator of beauty is -the morning dew, but on this occasion certain feelings of impatience -made her a little earlier than usual. Besides, she knew that Sir -Philip Hastings was always a matutinal man, and would certainly be in -the library before she was down. Nor was she disappointed. There she -found the Baronet reaching up his hand to take down Livy, after having -just replaced Tacitus.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a most extraordinary thing, my dear madam," said Sir Philip, -after the salutation of the morning, "and puzzles me more than I can -explain."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton fancied that her friend had discovered some very knotty -point in the case with Mr. Marlow, and she rejoiced, for her object -was not, to emulate but to entangle. Sir Philip, however, went on to -put her out of all patience by saying, "How the Romans, so sublimely -virtuous at one period of their history, could fall into so debased -and corrupt a state as we find described even by Sallust, and depicted -in more frightful colors still by the latter historians of the -empire."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton, as I have said, was out of all patience, and ladies in -that state sometimes have recourse to homely illustration. "Their -virtue got addled, I suppose," she replied, "by too long keeping. -Virtue is an egg that won't bear sitting upon--but now do tell me, Sir -Philip, had you any conversation with Mr. Marlow last night upon this -troublesome affair of mine?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had, my dear madam," replied Sir Philip, with a very faint smile, -for Sir Philip could not well bear any jesting on the Romans. "I did -not only converse with Mr. Marlow on the subject, but I examined -carefully the papers he brought down with him, and perceived at once -that you have not the shadow of a title to the property in question."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton's brow grew dark, and she replied in a somewhat sullen -tone, "You decided against me very rapidly, Sir Philip. I hope you did -not let Mr. Marlow see your strong prepossession--opinion I mean to -say--in his favor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Entirely," replied Sir Philip Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton was silent, and gazed down upon the carpet as if she -were counting the threads of which it was composed, and finding the -calculation by no means satisfactory.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip let her gaze on for some time, for he was not very easily -moved to compassion in cases where he saw dishonesty of purpose as -well as suffering. At length, however, he said, "My judgment is not -binding upon you in the least; I tell you simply, my dear madam, what -is my conclusion, and the law will tell you the same."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We shall see," muttered Mrs. Hazleton between her teeth; but then -putting on a softer air she asked, "Tell me, Sir Philip, would you, if -you were in my situation, tamely give up a property which was honestly -bought and paid for, without making one struggle to retain it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The moment I was convinced I had no legal right to it," replied Sir -Philip. "However, the law is still open to you, if you think it better -to resist; but before you take your determination, you had better hear -what Mr. Marlow proposes, and you will pardon me for expressing to you -what I did not express to him: an opinion that his proposal is founded -upon the noblest view of equity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed," said Mrs. Hazleton, with her eyes brightening, "pray let me -hear this proposal."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip explained it to her most distinctly, expecting that she -would be both surprised and pleased, and never doubted that she would -accept it instantly. Whether she was surprised or not, did not appear, -but pleased she certainly was not to any great extent, for she did not -wish the matter to be so soon concluded. She began to make objections -immediately. "The enormous expense of building this house has not been -taken into consideration at all, and it will be very necessary to have -the original papers examined before any thing is decided. There are -two sides to every question, my dear Sir Philip, and we cannot tell -that other papers may not be found, disentailing this estate before -the sale took place."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is impossible," answered Sir Philip Hastings, "if the papers -exhibited to me are genuine, for this young gentleman, on whom, as his -father's eldest son, the estate devolved by the entail, was not born -when the sale took place. By his act only could it be disentailed, and -as he was not born, he could perform no such act."</p> - -<p class="normal">He pressed her hard in his cold way, and it galled her sorely.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps they are not genuine," she said at length.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are all attested," replied Sir Philip, "and he himself proposes -that the originals should be examined as the basis of the whole -transaction."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is absolutely necessary," said Mrs. Hazleton, well satisfied to -put off decision even for a time. But Sir Philip would not leave her -even that advantage.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think," he said; "you must at once decide whether you accept his -proposal, on condition that the examination of the papers proves the -justice of his claim to the satisfaction of those you may appoint to -examine it. If there are any doubts and difficulties to be raised -afterwards, he might as well proceed by law at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then let him go to law," exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton with a flashing eye. -"If he do, I will defend every step to the utmost of my power."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Incur enormous expense, give yourself infinite pain and -mortification, and ruin a fine estate by a spirit of unnecessary and -unjust resistance," added Sir Philip, in a calm and somewhat -contemptuous tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Really, Sir Philip, you press me too hard," exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton -in a tone of angry mortification, and, sitting down to the table, she -actually wept.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I only press you for your own good," answered the Baronet, not at all -moved, "you are perhaps not aware that if this gentleman's claim is, -just, and you resist it, the whole costs will fall upon you. All that -could be expected of him was to submit his claim to arbitration, but -he now does more; he proposes, if arbitration pronounce it just, to -make sacrifices of his legal rights to the amount of many thousand -pounds. He is not bound to refund one penny paid for this estate, he -is entitled to back rents for a considerable number of years, and yet -he offers to repay the money, and far from demanding the back rents, -to make compensation for any loss of interest that may have been -sustained by this investment. There are few men in England, let me -tell you, who would have made such a proposal, and if you refuse it -you will never have such another."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not you think, Sir Philip," asked Mrs. Hazleton sharply, "that he -never would have made such a proposal if he had not known there was -something wrong about his title?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Now there was something in this question which doubly provoked Sir -Philip Hastings. He never could endure a habit which some ladies have -of recurring continually to points previously disposed of, and -covering the reiteration by merely putting objections in a new form. -Now the question as to the validity of Mr. Marlow's title, he looked -upon as entirely disposed of by the proposal of investigation and -arbitration. But there was something more than this; the very question -which the lady put showed an incapacity for conceiving any generous -motive, which thoroughly disgusted him, and, turning with a quiet step -to the window, he looked down upon the lawn which spread far away -between two ranges of tall fine wood, glowing in the yellow sunshine -of a dewy autumnal morning. It was the most favorable thing he could -have done for Mrs. Hazleton. Even the finest and the strongest and the -stoutest minds are more frequently affected unconsciously by external -things than any one is aware of. The sweet influences or the -irritating effects of fine or bad weather, of beautiful or tame -scenery, of small cares and petty disappointments, of pleasant -associations or unpleasant memories, nay of a thousand accidental -circumstances, and even fancies themselves, will affect considerations -totally distinct and apart, as the blue or yellow panes of a stained -glass window cast a melancholy hue or a yellow splendor upon the -statue and carvings of the cold gray stone.</p> - -<p class="normal">As Sir Philip gazed forth upon the fair scene before his eyes, and -thought what a lovely spot it was, how calm, how peaceful, how -refreshing in its influence, he said to himself, "No wonder she is -unwilling to part with it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then again, there was a hare gambolling upon the lawn, at a distance -of about a hundred yards from the house, now scampering along and -beating up the dew from the morning grass, now crouched nearly flat so -as hardly to be seen among the tall green blades, then hopping quietly -along with an awkward, shuffling gait, or sitting up on its hind legs, -with raised ears, listening to some distant sound; but still as it -resumed its gambols, again going round and round, tracing upon the -green sward a labyrinth of meandering lines. Sir Philip watched it for -several moments with a faint smile, and then said to himself, "It is -the beast's nature--why not a woman's?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Turning himself round he saw Mrs. Hazleton, sitting at the table with -her head leaning in a melancholy attitude upon her hand, and he -replied to her last words, though he had before fully made up his mind -to give them no answer whatever.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The question in regard to title, my dear madam," he said, "is one -which is to be decided by others. Employ a competent person, and he -will insure, by full investigation, that your rights are maintained -entire. Your acceptance of Mr. Marlow's proposals contingent on the -full recognition of his claim, will be far from prejudicing your case, -should any flaw in your title be discovered. On the contrary, should -the decision of a point Of law be required, it will put you well with -the court. By frankly doing so, you also meet him in the same spirit -in which I am sure he comes to you; and as I am certain he has a very -high sense of equity, I think he will be well inclined to enter into -any arrangement which may be for your convenience. From what he has -said himself, I do not believe he can afford to keep such an -establishment as is necessary for this house, and if you cling to it, -as you may well do, doubtless it may remain your habitation as long as -you please at a very moderate rent. Every other particular I think may -be settled in the same manner, if you will but show a spirit of -conciliation, and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sure I have done that," said Mrs. Hazleton, interrupting him. -"However, Sir Philip, I will leave it all to you. You must act for me -in this business. If you think it right, I will accept the proposal -conditionally as you mention, and the title can be examined fully -whenever we can fix upon the time and the person. All this is very -hard upon me, I do think; but I suppose I must submit with a good -grace."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is certainly the best plan," replied Sir Philip; and while Mrs. -Hazleton retired to efface the traces of tears from her eyelids, the -Baronet walked into the drawing-room, where he was soon after joined -by Mr. Marlow. He merely told him, however, that he had conversed with -the lady of the house, and that she would give him her answer in -person. Now, whatever were Mrs. Hazleton's wishes or intentions, she -certainly was not well satisfied with the precise and rapid manner in -which Sir Philip brought matters of business to an end. His last -words, however, had afforded her a glimmering prospect of somewhat -lengthy and frequent communication between herself and Mr. Marlow, and -one thing is certain, that she did not at all desire the transaction -between them to be concluded too briefly. At the same time, it was not -her object to appear otherwise than in the most favorable light to his -eyes; and consequently, when she entered the drawing-room she held out -her hand to him with a gracious though somewhat melancholy smile, -saying, "I have had a long conversation with Sir Philip this morning, -Mr. Marlow, concerning the very painful business which brought you -here. I agree at once to your proposal in regard to the arbitration -and the rest;" and she then went on to speak of the whole business as -if she had made not the slightest resistance whatever, but had been -struck at once by the liberality of his proposals, and by the sense of -equity which they displayed. Sir Philip took little notice of all -this; for he had fallen into one of his fits of musing, and Mr. Marlow -had quitted the room to bring some of the papers for the purpose of -showing them to Mrs. Hazleton, before the Baronet awoke out of his -reverie. The younger gentleman returned a moment after, and he and Sir -Philip and Mrs. Hazleton were busily looking at a long list of -certificates of births, deaths and marriages, when the door opened, -and Mr. Shanks, the attorney, entered the room, booted, spurred, and -dusty as if from a long ride. He was a man to whom Sir Philip had a -great objection; but he said nothing, and the attorney with a tripping -step advanced towards Mrs. Hazleton.</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady looked confused and annoyed, and in a hasty manner put back -the papers into Mr. Marlow's hand. But Mr. Shanks was one of the keen -and observing men of the world. He saw every thing about him as if he -had been one of those insects which have I do not know how many -thousand pair of lenses in each eye. He had no scruples or hesitation -either; he was all sight and all remark, and a lady of any kind was -not at all the person to inspire him with reverence.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was, in short, all law, and loved nothing, respected nothing, but -law.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear me, Mrs. Hazleton," he exclaimed, "I did not expect to find you -so engaged. These seem to be law papers--very dangerous, indeed, -madam, for unprofessional persons to meddle with such things. Permit -me to look at them;" and he held out his hand towards Mr. Marlow, as -if expecting to receive the papers without a word of remonstrance. But -Mr. Marlow held them back, saying, in a very calm, civil tone, "Excuse -me, sir! We are conversing over the matter in a friendly manner; and I -shall show them to a lawyer only at Mrs. Hazleton's request."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very improper--that is, I mean to say very unprofessional!" exclaimed -Mr. Shanks, "and let me say very hazardous too," rejoined the lawyer -abruptly; but Mrs. Hazleton herself interposed, saying in a marked -tone and with an air of dignity which did not always characterize her -demeanor towards her "right hand man," as she was accustomed sometimes -to designate Mr. Shanks, "We do not desire any interference at this -moment, my good sir. I appointed you at twelve o'clock. It is not yet -nine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"O I can see, I can see," replied Mr. Shanks, while Sir Philip -Hastings advanced a step or two, "his worship here never was a friend -of mine, and has no objection to take a job or two out of my hands at -any time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We have nothing to do with jobs, sir," said Sir Philip Hastings, in -his usual dry tone, "but at all events we do not wish you to make a -job where there is none."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must take the liberty, however, of warning that lady, sir," said -Mr. Shanks, with the pertinacity of a parrot, which he so greatly -resembled, "as her legal adviser, sir, that if----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That if she sends for an attorney, she wants him at the time she -appoints," interposed Sir Philip; "that was what you were about to -say, I suppose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not at all, sir, not at all," exclaimed the lawyer; for very shrewd -and very oily lawyers will occasionally forget their caution and their -coolness when they see the prospect of a loss of fees before them. "I -was going to say no such thing. I was going to warn her not to meddle -with matters of business of which she can understand nothing, by the -advice of those who know less, and who may have jobs of their own to -settle while they are meddling with hers."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I warn you to quit this room, sir," said Sir Philip Hastings, a -bright spot coming into his usually pale cheek; "the lady has already -expressed her opinion upon your intrusion, and depend upon it, I will -enforce mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall do no such thing, sir, till I have fully----"</p> - -<p class="normal">He said no more, for before he could conclude the sentence, the hand -of Sir Philip Hastings was upon his collar with the grasp of a giant, -and although he was a tall and somewhat powerful man, the Baronet -dragged him to the door in despite of his half-choking struggles, as a -nurse would haul along a baby, pulled him across the stone hall, and -opening the outer door with his left hand, shot him down the steps -without any ceremony; leaving him with his hands and knees upon the -terrace.</p> - -<p class="normal">This done, the Baronet returned into the house again, closing the door -behind him. He then paused in the hall for an instant, reproaching -himself for certain over-quick beatings of the heart, tranquillized -his whole look and demeanor, and then returning to the drawing-room, -resumed the conversation with Mrs. Hazleton, as if nothing had ever -occurred to interrupt it.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton was or affected to be a good deal flustered by -the event -which had just taken place, but after a number of certain graceful -attitudes, assumed without the slightest appearance of affectation, -she recovered her calmness, and proceeded with the business in hand. -That business was soon terminated, so far as the full and entire -acceptance of Mr. Marlow's proposal went, and immediately after the -conclusion of breakfast, Sir Philip Hastings ordered his horses to -depart. Mrs. Hazleton fain would have detained him, for she foresaw -that his going might be a signal for Mr. Marlow's going also, and it -was not a part of her policy to assume the matronly character so -distinctly as to invite him to remain in her house alone. Sir Philip -however was inexorable, and returned to his own dwelling, renewing his -invitation to his new acquaintance.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton bade him adieu, with the greatest appearance of -cordiality; but I am very much afraid, if one had possessed the power -of looking into her heart, one would have a picture very different -from that presented by her face. Sir Philip Hastings had said and done -things since he had entered her dwelling the night before, which Mrs. -Hazleton was not a woman to forget or forgive. He had thwarted her -schemes, he had mortified her vanity, he had wounded her pride; and -she was one of those women who bide their time, but have a strong -tenacity of resentments.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he was gone, however, she played a new game with Mr. Marlow. She -insisted upon his remaining for the day, but with a fine sense of -external proprieties, she informed him that she expected a charming -elderly lady of her acquaintance to pass a few days with her, to whom -she should particularly like to introduce him.</p> - -<p class="normal">This was false, be it remarked; but she immediately took measures to -make it true. Now, there is in every neighborhood more than one of -that class called good creatures. For this office, an abundant store -of real or assumed soft stupidity is required; but it is a somewhat -difficult part to play, for with this stupidity there must also be a -considerable portion of fine tact, to guard the performer against any -of those blunders into which good-natured people are continually -plunging. Drill and discipline are also necessary, in order to be -always on the look out for hints, to appreciate them properly, to -comprehend that friends may say one thing and mean another, and to ask -no questions of any kind. There were no less than three of these good -creatures in this Mrs. Hazleton's immediate neighborhood; and during a -few moments' retreat to her own little writing-room, she laid her -finger upon her fair temple, and thought them well over. Mrs. Winifred -Edgeby was the first who suggested herself to the mind of the fair -lady. She had many of the requisites. She dressed well, talked well, -and had an air of style and fashion about her; was perfectly -innocuous, and skilful in divining the purposes and wishes of a friend -or patron; but there was an occasional touch of subacrid humor about -her which Mrs. Hazleton did not half like. It gave an impression of -seeing too clearly, of perceiving much more than she pretended to -perceive.</p> - -<p class="normal">The second was Mrs. Warmington, a widow, not very rich, and not indeed -very refined; gay, talkative, somewhat boisterous, yet full of a sound -discretion in never committing herself or a friend. She had also much -experience, for she had been twice married, and twice a widow, and -thus had had her misfortunes. The third was a Miss Goodenough, the -most silent, quiet, stilly person in the world, moving about the house -with the step of a cat, and a face of infinite good nature to the -whole human race. She was to all appearance the pink of gentleness and -weak good nature; but her silence was invaluable.</p> - -<p class="normal">After some consideration Mrs. Hazleton decided upon the widow, and -instantly dispatched a note with her own carriage, begging Mrs. -Warmington to come over immediately and spend a few days with her, as -a young gentleman had arrived upon a visit, and it would be indecorous -to entertain him alone.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Warmington understood it all in an instant. She said to her. If, -"Ho, ho! a young gentleman come to stay--wanted a duenna! Matrimony in -the wind! Heigho! she must be six and thirty--six and thirty from two -and fifty leave sixteen points against me, and long odds. Well, -well,--I have had my share;" and Mrs. Warmington laughed aloud. -However, she would neither keep Mrs. Hazleton's carriage waiting, nor -Mrs. Hazleton herself in suspense, for there were various little -comforts and conveniences in the good will of that lady which Mrs. -Warmington was eager to cultivate. She had, too, a shrewd suspicion -that the enmity of Mrs. Hazleton might become a thing to be seriously -dreaded; and therefore, whichever side of the question she looked at, -she saw reasons for seeking the beautiful widow's good graces. Her -maid was called, her clothes packed up, and she entered the carriage -and drove away, while in the mean time Mrs. Hazleton had been -expatiating to Mr. Marlow upon all the high qualities and points of -excellence in her friend Mrs. Warmington. She was too skilful, -moreover, to bring her good taste and judgment into question with her -young friend, by raising expectations which might be disappointed. She -therefore threw in insinuations of a few faults and failings in dear -Madam Warmington's manner and demeanor. But then she said she was such -a good creature at heart, that although the very fastidious affected -to censure, she herself forgot all little blemishes in the inherent -excellence of the person.</p> - -<p class="normal">Moreover, upon the plea of looking at the ground which was the subject -of Mr. Marlow's claim, she led him out for a long, pleasant ramble -through the park. She took him amongst old hawthorn trees, through -groves of chestnuts by the banks of the stream, and along paths where -the warm sunshine played through the brown and yellow leaves above, -gilding their companions which had fallen earlier than themselves to -the sward below. It was a very lover-like walk indeed--one where -nature speaks to the heart, wakening sweet influences, and charming -the spirit up from hard and cold indifference. Mrs. Hazleton felt sure -that Mr. Marlow would not forget that walk, and she took care to -impress it as deeply as possible upon his memory. Nor did she want any -of the means to do so. Her mind was highly cultivated for the age in -which she lived, her taste fine, her information extensive. She could -discourse of foreign lands, of objects and scenes of deep interest, -great beauty, and rich associations,--of courts and cities far away, -of music, painting, flowers in other lands, of climates rich in -sunshine and of genial warmth; and through the whole she had the art -to throw a sort of magic glow from her own mind which brightened all -she spoke of.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was very charming that day, indeed, and Mr. Marlow felt the spell, -but he did not fall in love.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now what was the object of using all these powers upon him? Was Mrs. -Hazleton a person very susceptible, or very covetous of the tender -passion? Since her return to England she had refused some half-dozen -very eligible offers from handsome, agreeable, estimable men, and the -world in general had set her down for a person as cold as a stone. It -might be so, but there are some stones, which, when you heat them, -acquire intense fervor, and retain it longer than any other substance. -Every body in the world has his peculiarities, his whims, caprices, -crochets if you will. Mrs. Hazleton had gazed over the handsome, the -glittering and the gay, with the most perfect indifference. She had -listened to professions of love with a tranquil, easy balance power, -which weighed to a grain the advantages of matrimony and widowhood, -without suffering the dust of passion to give even a shake to the -scale. Before the preceding night she had only seen Mr. Marlow once, -but the moment she set eyes upon him--the moment she heard his voice, -she had said to herself, "If ever I marry again, that is the man." -There is no explaining these sympathetic attractions, impulses, or -whatever they may be called; but I think, from some observation of -human nature, it will be found that in those persons where they are -the least frequent, they are the most powerful and persevering when -they do exist.</p> - -<p class="normal">Not long after their first meeting, some intimation occurred -of a claim on the part of Mr. Marlow to a portion of the lady's -property--that portion that she loved best. The very idea of parting -with it at all, of being forced to give it up, was most painful and -distressing to her. Yet that made no difference whatever in her -feelings towards Mr. Marlow. Communications of various kinds took -place between lawyers, and the opposite counsel were as firm as a -rock. Mrs. Hazleton thought it very hard, very unjust, very wrong; but -that changed not in the least her feelings towards Mr. Marlow. Nay -more, with that delicate art of combination in which ladies are formed -to excel, she conceived and manipulated with great dexterity a scheme -for bringing herself and Mr. Marlow into frequent personal -communication, and for causing somebody to suggest to him a marriage -with her own beautiful self, as the best mode of settling the disputed -claim.</p> - -<p class="normal">O those fine and delicate threads of intrigue, how frail they are, and -how much depends upon every one of them, be it in the warp or the woof -of a scheme! We have seen that in this case, one of them gave way -under the rough handling of Sir Philip Hastings, and the whole fabric -was in imminent danger of running down and becoming nothing but a -raveled skein. Mrs. Hazleton was resolved that it should not be so, -and now she was busily engaged in the attempt to knot together the -broken thread, and to lay all the others straight and in right order -again. This was the secret of the whole matter.</p> - -<p class="normal">She exerted all her charms, and could Waller but have seen her we -should have had such an account of the artillery of her eyes, the -insidious attack of her smile, and the whole host of powerful -adversaries brought to bear against the object of her assault in her -gracefully moving form and heaving bosom, that Saccharissa would have -melted away like a wet lump of sugar in the comparison.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then again when she had produced an effect, and saw clear and -distinctly that he thought her lovely, and very charming too, she -seemed to fall into a pleasant sort of languid melancholy, which was -even more charming still. The brook was bubbling and murmuring at -their feet, dashing clear and bright over its stony bed, and changing -the brown rock, the water weed, or the leaf beneath, into gems by the -magic of its own brightness. The boughs were waving over head, covered -with many-colored foliage, and the sun, glancing through, not only -enriched the tints above, but checkered the mossy path along which -they wandered like a chess-board of brown and gold. Some of the late -autumn birds uttered their short sweet songs from the copse hard by, -and the musical wind came sighing up from the valley, as if nature had -furnished Eolus with a harp. It was in short quite a scene, and a -moment for a widow to make love to a young man. They were silent for -some little time, and then Mrs. Hazleton said, with her soft, sweet, -round voice, "Is not all this very charming, Mr. Marlow?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Her tone was quite a sad one, but not with that sort of pleasant -sadness which often mingles with our happiest moments, giving them -even a higher zest, like the flattened notes when a fine piece of -music passes gently from the major into the minor key, but really sad, -profoundly sad.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very charming, indeed," replied her young companion, looking round to -her face with some surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And what am I to do without it, when you turn me out of my house!" -said the lady, answering his glance with a melancholy smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Turn you out of your house!" exclaimed Mr. Marlow; "I hope you do not -suppose, my dear madam, that I could dream of such a thing. Oh, no! I -would not for the world deprive such a scene of its brightest -ornament. Some arrangement can be easily effected, even if my claim -should prove satisfactory to those you appoint to investigate it, by -which the neighborhood will not be deprived of the happiness of your -presence."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton felt that she had made a great step, and as she well -knew that there was no chance of his proposing then and there, she -resolved not to risk losing ground by any farther advance, even while -she secured some present benefits from that which was gained. "Well, -well," she said, "Mr. Marlow, I am quite sure you are very kind and -very generous, and we can talk of that matter hereafter. Only there is -one thing you must promise me, which is, that in regard to any -arrangements respecting the house you will not leave them to be -settled by cold lawyers or colder friends, who cannot enter into my -feelings in regard to this place, or your own liberal and kindly -feelings either. Let us settle it some day between ourselves," she -added, with a light laugh, "in a tête-à-tête like this. I do not -suppose you are afraid of being overreached by me in a bargain. But -now let us turn our steps back towards the house, for I expect Mrs. -Warmington early, and I must not be absent when she arrives."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Warmington was there already; for the tête-à-tête had lasted -longer than Mrs. Hazleton knew. However, Mrs. Hazleton's first task -was to inform her fair friend and counsellor of the cause of Mr. -Marlow's being there; her next to tell her that all had been settled -as to the claim, by that tiresome man Sir Philip Hastings, without -what she considered due deliberation, and that the only thing which -remained to be arranged was in regard to the house, respecting which -Mrs. Hazleton communicated a certain portion of her own inclinations, -and of Mr. Marlow's kind view of the matter.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, strange to say, this was the turning point of fate for Mrs. -Hazleton, Mr. Marlow, and most of the persons mentioned in this -history. It was then that Mrs. Warmington suggested a scheme which she -thought would suit her friend well.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why do you not offer him in exchange--for the time at all -events--your fine old house on the side of Hartwell--Hartwell Place? -It is only seven miles off. It is ready furnished to his hand, and -must be worth a great deal more than the bare walls of this. Besides -it would be pleasant to have him in the neighborhood."</p> - -<p class="normal">Pause, Mrs. Hazleton! pause and meditate over all the consequences; -for be assured much depends upon these few simple words.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton did pause--Mrs. Hazleton did meditate. She ran over in -her head the list of all the families in the neighborhood. In none of -them could she see a probable rival. There were plenty of married -women, old maids, young girls; but she saw nobody to fear, and with a -proud consciousness of her own beauty and worth; she took her -resolution. That very evening she proposed to Mr. Marlow what her -friend had suggested. It was accepted.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton had made one miscalculation, and her fate and Mr. -Marlow's were decided.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XIV.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Occasionally in the life of man, as in the life of the -world--History--or in the course of a stream towards the sea, come -quiet lapses, sunny and calm, reflecting nothing but the still -motionless objects around, or the blue sky and moving clouds above. -Often too we find that this tranquil expanse of silent water follows -quickly after some more rapid movement, comes close upon some spot -where a dashing rapid has diversified the scene, or a cataract, in -roar and confusion and sparkling terror, has broken the course of the -stream.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such a still pause, silent of action--if I may use the term--followed -the events which I have related in the last chapter, extending over a -period of nearly six months. Nothing happened worthy of any minute -detail. Peace and tranquillity dwelt in the various households which I -have noticed in the course of this story, enlivened in that of Sir -Philip Hastings by the gay spirit of Emily Hastings, although somewhat -shadowed by the sterner character of her father; and in the household -of Mrs. Hazleton brightened by the light of hope, and the fair -prospect of success in all her schemes which for a certain time -continued to open before her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow only spent two days at her house, and then went away to -London, but whatever effect her beauty might have produced upon him, -his society, brief as it was, served but to confirm her feelings -towards him, and before he left her, she had made up her mind fully -and entirely, with her characteristic vigor and strength of -resolution, that her marriage with Mr. Marlow was an event which must -and should be. There was under this conviction, but not the less -strong, not the less energetic, not the less vehement, for being -concealed even from herself--a resolution that no sacrifice, no fear, -no hesitation at any course, should stand in the way of her purpose. -She did not anticipate many difficulties certainly; for Mr. Marlow -clearly admired her; but the resolution was, that if difficulties -should arise, she would overcome them at all cost. Hers was one of -those characters of which the world makes its tragedies, having within -itself passions too strong and deep to be frequently excited--as the -more profound waters which rise into mountains when once in motion -require a hurricane to still them--together with that energetic will, -that fixed unbending determination, which like the outburst of a -torrent from the hills, sweeps away all before it. But let it be ever -remembered that her energies were exerted upon herself as well as upon -others, not in checking passion, not in limiting desire, but in -guarding scrupulously every external appearance, guiding every thought -and act with careful art towards its destined object. Mrs. Hazleton -suffered Mr. Marlow to be in London more than a month before she -followed to conclude the mere matters of business between them. It -cost her a great struggle with herself, but in that struggle she was -successful, and when at length she went, she had several interviews -with him. Circumstances--that great enemy of schemes, was against her. -Sometimes lawyers were present at their interviews, sometimes -impertinent friends; but Mrs. Hazleton did not much care: she trusted -to the time he was speedily about to pass in the country, for the full -effect, and in the mean time took care that nothing but the golden -side of the shield should be presented to her knight.</p> - -<p class="normal">The continent was at that time open to Englishmen for a short period, -and Mr. Marlow expressed his determination of going to the Court of -Versailles for a month or six weeks before he came down to take -possession of Hartwell place, everything now having been settled -between them in regard to business.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton did not like his determination, yet she did not much -fear the result; for Mr. Marlow was preeminently English, and never -likely to wed a French woman. Still she resolved that he should see -her under another aspect before he went. She was a great favorite of -the Court of those days; her station, her wealth, her beauty, and her -grace rendered her a brightness and an ornament wherever she came. She -was invited to one of the more private though not less splendid -assemblies at the Palace, and she contrived that Mr. Marlow should be -invited also, though neither by nature or habit a courtier. She -obtained the invitation for him skilfully, saying to the Royal -Personage of whom she asked it, that as he won a lawsuit against her, -she wished to show him that she bore no malice. He went, and found her -the brightest in the brilliant scene; the great and the proud, the -handsome and the gay, all bending down and worshipping, all striving. -for a smile, and obtaining it but scantily. She smiled upon him, -however, not sufficiently to attract remark from others, but quite -sufficiently to mark a strong distinction for his own eyes, if he had -chosen to use them. He went away to France, and Mrs. Hazleton, -returned to the country; the winter passed with her in arranging his -house for him; and, in so doing, she often had to write to him. His -replies were always prompt, kind, and grateful; and at length came the -spring, and the pleasant tidings that he was on his way back to his -beloved England.</p> - -<p class="normal">Alas for human expectation! Alas for the gay day-dream of -youth--maturity--middle age--old age--for they have all their -day-dreams! Every passion which besets man from the cradle to the -grave has its own visionary expectations. Each creature, each animal, -from the tiger to the beetle, has its besetting insect, which preys -upon it, gnaws it, irritates it, and so have all the ages of the soul -and of the heart. Alas for human speculation of all kinds! Alas for -every hope and aspiration! for those that are pure and high, but, -growing out of earth, bear within themselves the bitter seeds of -disappointment; and those that are dark or low produce the germ of -the most poisonous hybrid, where disappointment is united with -remorse.</p> - -<p class="normal">Happy is the man that expecteth nothing, for verily he shall not be -disappointed! It is a quaint old saying; and could philosophy ever -stem the course of God's will, it would be one which, well followed, -might secure to man some greater portion of mortal peace than he -possesses. But to aspire was the ordinance of God; and, viewed -rightly, the withering of the flowers upon each footstep we have taken -upwards, is no discouragement; for if we shape our path aright, there -is a wreath of bright blossoms crowning each craggy peak before us, as -we ascend to snatch the garland of immortal glory, placed just beyond -the last awful leap of death.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton's aspirations, however, were all earthly. She thought of -little beyond this life. She had never been taught so to think. There -are some who are led astray from the path of noble daring, to others -as difficult and more intricate, by some loud shout of passion on the -right or on the left--and seek in vain to return; some who, misled by -an apparent similarity in the course of two paths, although the finger -post says, "Thus shalt thou go!" think that the way so plainly beaten, -and so seemingly easy, must surely lead them to the same point. Others -again never learn to read the right path from the wrong (and she was -one), while others shut their eyes to all direction, fix their gaze -upon the summit, and strain up, now amidst flowers and now amidst -thorns, till they are cast back from the face of some steep precipice, -to perish in the descent or at the foot.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton's aspirations were all earthly; and that was the secret -of her only want in beauty. That divine form, that resplendent face, -beamed with every earthly grace, sparkled forth mind and intellect in -every glance, but they were wanting in soul, in spirit, and in heart. -Life was there, but the life of life, the intense flame of immortal, -over-earthly intelligence, was wanting. She might be the grandest -animal that ever was seen, the most bright and capable intellect that -ever dealt with mortal things; but the fine golden chain which leads -on the electric fire from intellectual eminence to spiritual -preeminence, from mind to soul, from earth to heaven, was wanting, or -had been broken. Her loveliness none could doubt, her charm of manner -none could deny, her intellectual superiority all admitted, her -womanly softness added a grace beyond them all; but there was one -grace wanting--the grace of a high, holy soul, which, in those who -have it, be they fair, be they ugly, pours forth as an emanation from -every look and every action, and surrounds them with a cloud of -radiance, faintly imaged by the artist's glory round a saint.</p> - -<p class="normal">Alas for human aspirations! Alas for the expectations of this fair -frail creature! How eagerly she thought of Mr. Marlow's return how she -had anticipated their meeting again! How she had calculated upon all -that would be said and done during the next few weeks! The first news -she received was that he had arrived, and with a few servants had -taken possession of his new dwelling. She remained all day in her own -house; she ordered no carriage; she took no walk: she tried to read; -she played upon various instruments of music; she thought each instant -he would come, at least for a few minutes, to thank her for all the -care she had bestowed to make his habitation comfortable. The sun -gilded the west; the melancholy moon rose up in solemn splendor; the -hours passed by, and he came not.</p> - -<p class="normal">The next morning, she heard that he had ridden over to the house of -Sir Philip Hastings, and indignation warred with love in her bosom. -She thought he must certainly come that day, and she resolved angrily -to upbraid him for his want of courtesy. Luckily, however, for her, he -did not come that day; and a sort of melancholy took possession of -her. Luckily, I say; for when passion takes hold of a scheme it is -generally sure to shake it to pieces, and that melancholy loosens the -grasp of passion for a time. The next day he did come, and with an air -so easy and unconscious of offence as almost to provoke her into -vehemence again. He knew not what she felt--he had no idea of how he -had been looked for. He was as ignorant that she had ever thought of -him as a husband, as she was that he had ever compared her in his mind -to his own mother.</p> - -<p class="normal">He talked quietly, indifferently, of his having been over to the house -of Sir Philip Hastings, adding merely--not as an excuse, but as a -simple fact--that he had been unable to call there as he had promised -before leaving the country. He dilated upon the kind reception he had -met with from Lady Hastings, for Sir Philip was absent upon business; -and he went on to dwell rather largely upon the exceeding beauty and -great grace of Emily Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oh how Mrs. Hazleton hated her! It requires but a few drops of poison -to envenom a whole well.</p> - -<p class="normal">He did worse: he proceeded to descant upon her character--upon the -blended brightness and deep thought--upon the high-souled emotions and -childlike sparkle of her disposition--upon the simplicity and -complexity, upon the many-sided splendor of her character, which, like -the cut diamond, reflected each ray of light in a thousand varied and -dazzling hues. Oh how Mrs. Hazleton hated her--hated, because for the -first time she began to fear. He had spoken to her in praise of -another woman--with loud encomiums too, with a brightened eye, and a -look which told her more than his words. These were signs not to be -mistaken. They did not show in the least that he loved Emily Hastings, -and that she knew right well; but they showed that he did not love -her; and there was the poison in the cup.</p> - -<p class="normal">So painful, so terrible was the sensation, that, with all her mastery -over herself, she could not conceal the agony under which she writhed. -She became silent, grave, fell into fits of thought, which clouded the -broad brow, and made the fine-cut lip quiver. Mr. Marlow was surprised -and grieved. He asked himself what could be the matter. Something had -evidently made her sorrowful, and he could not trace the sorrow to its -source; for she carefully avoided uttering one word in depreciation of -Emily Hastings. In this she showed no woman's spirit. She could have -stabbed her, had the girl been there in her presence; but she would -not scratch her. Petty spite was too low for her, too small for the -character of her mind. Hers was a heart capable of revenge, and would -be satisfied with nothing less.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow soothed her, spoke to her kindly, tenderly, tried to lead -her mind away, to amuse, to entertain her. Oh, it was all gall and -bitterness to her. He might have cursed, abused, insulted her, -without, perhaps, diminishing her love--certainly without inflicting -half the anguish that was caused by his gentle words. It is impossible -to tell all the varied emotions that went on in her heart--at least -for me. Shakspeare could have done it, but none less than Shakspeare. -For a moment she knew not whether she loved or hated him; but she soon -felt and knew it was love; and the hate, like lightning striking a -rock, and glancing from the solid stone to rend a sapling, all turned -away from him, to fall upon the head of poor unconscious Emily -Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">Though she could not recover from the blow she had received, yet she -soon regained command over herself, conversed, smiled, banished -absorbing thoughts, answered calmly, pertinently, even spoke in her -own bright, brilliant way, with a few more figures and ornaments of -speech than usual; for figures are things rather of the head than of -the heart, and it was from the head that she was now speaking.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length Mr. Marlow took his leave, and for the first time in life -she was glad he was gone.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton gave way to no burst of passion: she shed not a tear; -she uttered no exclamation. That which was within her heart, was too -intense for any such ordinary expression. She seated herself at a -table, leaned her head upon her hand, and fixed her eyes upon one -bright spot in the marquetry. There she sat for more than an entire -hour, without a motion, and in the meantime what were the thoughts -that passed through her brain? We have shown the feelings of her heart -enough.</p> - -<p class="normal">She formed plans; she determined her course; she looked around for -means. Various persons suggested themselves to her mind as -instruments. The three women, I have mentioned in a preceding -chapter--the good sort of friends. But it was an agent she wanted, not -a confidant. No, no, Mrs. Hazleton knew better than to have a -confidant. She was her own best council-keeper, and she knew it. -Nevertheless, these good ladies might serve to act in subordinate -parts, and she assigned to each of them their position in her scheme -with wonderful accuracy and skill. As she did so, however, she -remembered that it was by the advice of Mrs. Warmington that she had -brought Mr. Marlow to Hartwell Place; and in her heart's secret -chamber she gave her fair friend a goodly benediction. She resolved to -use her nevertheless--to use her as far as she could be serviceable; -and she forgot not that she herself had been art and part in the -scheme that had failed. She was not one to shelter herself from blame -by casting the whole storm of disappointment upon another, She took -her own full share. "If she was a fool so to advise," said Mrs. -Hazleton, "'twas a greater fool to follow her advice."</p> - -<p class="normal">She then turned to seek for the agent. No name presented itself but -that of Shanks, the attorney; and she smiled bitterly when she thought -of him. She recollected that Sir Philip Hastings had thrown him -head-foremost down the steps of the terrace, and that was very -satisfactory to her; for, although Mr. Shanks was a man who sometimes -bore injuries very meekly, he never forgot them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, she had somewhat a difficult part to play, for most -agents have a desire of becoming confidants also, and that Mrs. -Hazleton determined her attorney should not be. The task was to -insinuate her purposes rather than to speak them--to act, without -betraying the motive of action--to make another act, without -committing herself by giving directions.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, Mrs. Hazleton arranged it all to her own satisfaction; -and as she did so, amongst the apparently extinct ashes of former -schemes, one small spark of hope began to glow, giving promise for the -time to come. What did she propose? At first, nothing more than to -drive Sir Philip Hastings and his family from the country, mingling -the gratification of personal hatred with efforts for the -accomplishment of her own purposes. It was a bold attempt, but Mrs. -Hazleton had her plan, and she sat down and wrote for Mr. Shanks, the -attorney.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XV.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Decorum came in with the house of Hanover. I know not whether -men and -women in England were more virtuous before--I think not--but they -certainly were more frank in both their virtues and their vices. There -were fewer of those vices of conventionality thrown around the human -heart--fewer I mean to say of those cold restraints, those gilded -chains of society, which, like the ornaments that ladies wear upon -their necks and arms, seem like fetters; but, I fear me, restrain but -little human action, curb not passion, and are to the strong will but -as the green rushes round the limbs of the Hebrew giant. Decorum came -into England with the house of Hanover; but I am speaking of a period -before that, when ladies were less fearful of the tongue of scandal, -when scandal itself was fearful of assailing virtue, when honesty of -purpose and purity of heart could walk free in the broad day, and men -did not venture to suppose evil acts perpetrated whenever, by a -possibility, they could be committed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily Hastings walked quietly along by the side of Mr. Marlow, through -her father's park. There was no one with him, no keen matron's ear to -listen to and weigh their words, no brother to pretend to accompany -them, and either feel himself weary with the task or lighten it by -seeking his own amusement apart. They were alone together, and they -talked without restraint. Ye gods, how they did talk! The dear girl -was in one of her brightest, gayest moods. There was nothing that did -not move her fancy or become a servant to it. The clouds as they shot -across the sky, the blue fixed hills in the distance, the red and -yellow and green coloring of the young budding oaks, the dancing of -the stream, the song of the bird, the whisper of the wind, the misty -spring light which spread over the morning distance, all had -illustrations for her thoughts. It seemed that day as if she could not -speak without a figure--as if she revelled in the flowers of -imagination, like a child tossing about the new mown grass in a -hay-field. And he, with joyous sport, took pleasure in furnishing her -at every moment with new material for the bounding joy of fancy.</p> - -<p class="normal">They had not known each other long; but there was something in the -young man's manner--nay, let me go farther--in his character, which -invited confidence, which besought the hearts around to throw off all -strange disguise, and promised that he would take no base advantage of -their openness. That something was perhaps his earnestness: one felt -that he was true in all he said or did or looked: that his words were -but his spoken feelings: his countenance a paper on which the heart at -once recorded its sensations. But let me not be mistaken. Do not let -it be supposed that when I say he was earnest, I mean that he was even -grave. Oh no! Earnestness can exist as well in the merriest as in the -soberest heart. One can be as earnest, as truthful, even as eager in -joy or sport, as in sorrow or sternness. But he was earnest in all -things, and it was this earnestness which probably found a way for him -to so many dissimilar hearts.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily knew not at all what it was doing with hers; but she felt that -he was one before whom she had no need to hide a thought: that if she -were gay, she might be gay in safety: that if she were inclined to -muse, she might muse on in peace.</p> - -<p class="normal">Onward they walked, talking of every thing on earth but love. It was -in the thoughts of neither. Emily knew nothing about it: the tranquil -expanse of life had never for her been even rippled by the wing of -passion. Marlow might know more; but for the time he was lost in the -enjoyment of the moment. The little enemy might be carrying on the war -against the fortress of each unconscious bosom; but if so, it was by -the silent sap and mine, more potent far than the fierce assault or -thundering cannonade--at least in this sort of warfare.</p> - -<p class="normal">They were wending their way towards a gate, at the very extreme limit -of the park, which opened upon a path leading by a much shorter way to -Mr. Marlow's own dwelling than the road he usually pursued. He had -that morning come to spend but an hour at the house of Sir Philip -Hastings, and he had an engagement at his own house at noon. He had -spent two hours instead of one with Emily and her mother, and -therefore short paths were preferable to long ones for his purpose. -Emily had offered to show him the way to the gate, and her company was -sure to shorten the road, though it might lengthen the time it took to -travel.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now in describing the park of Sir Philip Hastings, I have said that -there was a wide open space around the mansion; but I have also said, -that at some distance the trees gathered thick and sombre. Those -nearest the house gathered together in clumps, confusing the eye in a -wilderness of hawthorns, and bushes, and evergreen oaks, while beyond -appeared a dense mass of wood; and, through the scattered tufts of -trees and thick woodland at the extreme of the park ran several paths -traced by deer, and park-keepers, and country folk. Thus for various -reasons some guidance was needful to Marlow on his way, and for more -reasons still he was well pleased that the guide should be Emily -Hastings. In the course of their walk, amongst many other subjects -they spoke of Mrs. Hazleton, and Marlow expatiated warmly on her -beauty, and grace, and kindness of heart. How different was the effect -of all this upon Emily Hastings from that which his words in her -praise had produced upon her of whom he spoke! Emily's heart was free. -Emily had no schemes, no plans, no purposes. She knew not that there -was one feeling in her bosom with which praise of Mrs. Hazleton could -ever jar. She loved her well. Such eyes as hers are not practised in -seeing into darkness. She had divined the Italian singer--perhaps by -instinct, perhaps by some distinct trait, which occasionally will -betray the most wily. But Mrs. Hazleton was a fellow-woman--a woman of -great brightness and many fine qualities. Neither had she any -superficial defects to indicate a baser metal or a harder within. If -she was not all gold, she was doubly gilt.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily praised her too, warmed with the theme; and eagerly exclaimed, -"She always seems to me like one of those dames of fairy tales, upon -whom some enchanter has bestowed a charm that no one can resist. It is -not her beauty; for I feel the same when I hear her voice and shut my -eyes. It is not her conversation; for I feel the same when I look at -her and she is silent. It seems to breathe from her presence like the -odor of a flower. It is the same when she is grave as when she is -gay."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Aye, and when she is melancholy," replied Marlow. "I never felt it -more powerfully than a few days ago when I spent an hour with her, and -she was not only grave but sad."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Melancholy!" exclaimed Emily. "I never saw her so. Grave I have seen -her--thoughtful, silent--but never sad; and I do not know that she has -not seemed more charming to me in those grave, stiller moods, than in -more cheerful ones. Do you know that in looking at the beautiful -statues which I have seen in London, I have often thought they might -lose half their charm if they would move and speak? Thus, too, with -Mrs. Hazleton; she seems to me even more lovely, more full of grace, -in perfect stillness than at any other time. My father," she added, -after a moment's pause, "is the only one who in her presence seems -spell-proof."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her words threw Marlow into a momentary fit of thought. "Why," he -asked himself, "was Sir Philip Hastings spell-proof when all others -were charmed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Men have a habit of depending much upon men's judgment, whether justly -or unjustly I will not stop to inquire. They rely less upon woman's -judgment in such matters; and yet women are amongst the keenest -discerners--when they are unbiassed by passion. But are they often so? -Perhaps it is from a conviction that men judge less frequently from -impulse, decide more generally from cause, that this presumption of -their accuracy exists. Woman--perhaps from seclusion, perhaps from -nature--is more a creature of instincts than man, They are given her -for defence where reason would act too slowly; and where they do act -strongly, they are almost invariably right. Man goes through the -slower process, and naturally relies more firmly on the result; for -reason demonstrates where instinct leads blindfold. Marlow judged Sir -Philip Hastings by himself, and fancied that he must have some cause -for being spell-proof against the fascinations of Mrs. Hazleton. This -roused the first doubt in his mind as to her being all that she -seemed. He repelled the doubt as injurious, but it returned from time -to time in after days, and at length gave him a clue to an intricate -labyrinth.</p> - -<p class="normal">The walk came to an end, too soon he thought. Emily pointed out the -gate as soon as it appeared in sight, shook hands with him and -returned homeward. He thought more of her after they had parted, than -when she was with him. There are times when the most thoughtful do not -think--when they enjoy. But now, every word, every look of her who -had just left him, came back to memory. Not that he would admit to -himself that there was the least touch of love in his feelings. Oh -no! He had known her too short a time for such a serious passion as -love to have any thing to do with his sensations. He only thought of -her--mused--pondered--recalled all she had said and done, because she -was so unlike any thing he had seen or heard of before--a something -new--a something to be studied.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was but a girl--a mere child, he said; and yet there was something -more than childish grace in that light, but rounded form, where beauty -was more than budding, but not quite blossomed, like a moss-rose in -its loveliest state of loveliness. And her mind too; there was nothing -childish in her thoughts except their playfulness. The morning -dew-drops had not yet exhaled; but the day-star of the mind was well -up in the sky.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was one of those, on whom it is dangerous for a man afraid of love -to meditate too long. She was one the effect of whose looks and words -is not evanescent. That of mere beauty passes away. How many a face do -we see and think it the loveliest in the world; yet shut the eyes an -hour after, and try to recall the features--to paint them to the -mind's eye. You cannot. But there are others that link themselves with -every feeling of the heart, that twine themselves with constantly -recurring thoughts, that never can be effaced--never forgotten--on -which age or time, disease or death, may do its work without effecting -one change in the reality embalmed in memory. Destroy the die, break -the mould, you may; but the medal and the cast remain. Had Marlow -lived a hundred years--had he never seen Emily Hastings again, not one -line of her bright face, not one speaking look, would have passed from -his memory. He could have painted a portrait of her had he been an -artist. Did you ever gaze long at the sun, trying your eyes against -the eagle's? If so, you have had the bright orb floating before your -eyes the whole day after. And so it was with Marlow: throughout the -long hours that followed, he had Emily Hastings ever before him. But -yet he did not love her. Oh dear no, not in the least. Love he thought -was very different from mere admiration. It was a plant of slower -growth. He was no believer in love at first sight. He was an infidel -as to Romeo and Juliet, and he had firmly resolved if ever he did fall -in love, it should be done cautiously.</p> - -<p class="normal">Poor man! he little knew how deep he was in already.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile, Emily walked onward. She was heart-whole at least. -She had never dreamed of love. It had not been one of her studies. Her -father had never presented the idea to her. Her mother had often -talked of marriage, and marriages good and bad; but always put them in -the light of alliances--compacts--negotiated treaties. Although Lady -Hastings knew what love is as well as any one, and had felt it as -deeply, yet she did not wish her daughter to be as romantic as she had -been, and therefore the subject was avoided. Emily thought a good deal -of Mr. Marlow, it is true. She thought him handsome, graceful, -winning--one of the pleasantest companions she had ever known. She -liked him better than any one she had ever seen; and his words rang in -her ears long after they were spoken. But even imagination, wicked -spinner of golden threads as she is, never drew one link between his -fate and hers. The time had not yet come, if it was to come.</p> - -<p class="normal">She walked on, however, through the wood; and just when she was -emerging from the thicker part into the clumps and scattered trees, -she saw a stranger before her, leaning against the stump of an old -hawthorn, and seeming to suffer pain. He was young, handsome, -well-dressed, and there was a gun lying at his feet. But as Emily drew -nearer, she saw blood slowly trickling from his arm, and falling on -the gray sand of the path.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was not one to suffer shyness to curb humanity; and she exclaimed -at once, with a look of alarm, "I am afraid you are hurt, sir. Had you -not better come up to the house?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The young man looked at her, fainted, and answered in a low tone, "The -gun has gone off, caught by a branch, and has shattered my arm. I -thought I could reach the cottage by the park gates, but I feel -faint."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, stay a moment," cried Emily, "I will run to the hall and bring -assistance--people to assist you upon a carriage."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no!" answered the stranger quickly, "I cannot go there--I will -not go there! The cottage is nearer," he continued more calmly. "I -think with a little help I could reach it, if I could staunch the -blood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me try," exclaimed Emily; and with ready zeal, she tied her -handkerchief round his arm, not without a shaking hand indeed, but -with firmness and some skill.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now lean upon me," she said, when she had done; "the cottage is -indeed nearer, but you would have better tendance if you could reach -the hall."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, the cottage," replied the stranger, "I shall do well there."</p> - -<p class="normal">The cottage was perhaps two hundred yards nearer to the spot on which -they stood than the hall; but there was an eagerness about the young -man's refusal to go to the latter, which Emily remarked. Suspicion -indeed was alive to her mind; but those were days when laws concerning -game, which have very year been becoming less and less strict, were -hardly less severe than in the time of William Rufus. Every day, in -the country life which she led, she heard some tale of poaching or its -punishment. The stranger had a gun with him; she had found him in her -father's park; he was unwilling even in suffering and need of help to -go up to the hall for succor; and she could not but fancy that for -some frolic, perhaps some jest, or some wild whim, he had been -trespassing upon the manor in pursuit of game. That he was an ordinary -poacher she could not suppose; his dress, his appearance forbade such -a supposition.</p> - -<p class="normal">But there was something more.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the young man's face--more in its expression than its features -perhaps--more in certain marking lines and sudden glances than in the -general whole--there was something familiar to her--something that -seemed akin to her. He was handsomer than her father; of a more -perfect though less lofty character of beauty; and yet there was a -strange likeness, not constant, but flashing occasionally upon her -brow, in what, when, she could hardly determine.</p> - -<p class="normal">It roused another sort of sympathy from any she had felt before; and -once more she asked him to go up to the hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you have been taking your sport," she said, "where perhaps you -ought not, I am sure my father will look over it without a word, when -he sees how you are hurt. Although people sometimes think he is stern -and severe, that is all a mistake. He is kind and gentle, I assure -you, when he does not feel that duty requires him to be rigid."</p> - -<p class="normal">The stranger gave a quick start, and replied in a tone which would -have been haughty and fierce, had not weakness subdued it, "I have -been shooting only where I have a right to shoot. But I will not go up -to the hall, till--but I dare say I can get down to the cottage -without help, Mistress Emily. I have been accustomed to do without -help in the world;" and he withdrew his arm from that which supported -him. The next moment, however, he tottered, and seemed ready to fall, -and Emily again hurried to help him. There were no more words spoken. -She thought his manner somewhat uncivil; she would not leave him, and -the necessity for her kindness was soon apparent. Ere they were within -a hundred yards of the cottage, he sunk slowly down. His face grew -pale and death-like, and his eyes closed faintly as he lay upon the -turf. Emily ran on like lightning to the cottage, and called out the -old man who lived there. The old man called his son from the little -garden, and with his and other help, carried the fainting man in.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, master John, master John," exclaimed the old cottager, as he laid -him in his own bed; "one of your wild pranks, I warrant!"</p> - -<p class="normal">His wife, his son, and he himself tended the young man with care; and -a young boy was sent off for a surgeon.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily did not know what to do; but compassion kept her in the cottage -till the stranger recovered his consciousness, and then after -inquiring how he felt, she was about to withdraw, intending to send -down further aid from the hall. But the stranger beckoned her faintly -to come nearer, and said in tones of real gratitude, "Thank you a -thousand times, Mistress Emily; I never thought to need such kindness -at your hands. But now do me another, and say not a word to any one at -the mansion of what has happened. It will be better for me, for you, -for your father, that you should not speak of this business."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not! do not! Mistress Emily!" cried the old man, who was standing -near. "It will only make mischief and bring about evil."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke evidently under strong apprehension, and Emily was much -surprised, both to find that one quite a stranger to her knew her at -once, and to find the old cottager, a long dependant upon her family, -second so eagerly his strange injunction.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will say nothing unless questions are asked me," she replied; "then -of course I must tell the truth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Better not," replied the young man gloomily.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot speak falsely," replied the beautiful girl "I cannot deal -doubly with my parents or any one," and she was turning away.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the stranger besought her to stop one moment, and said, "I have -not strength to explain all now; but I shall see you again, and then I -will tell you why I have spoken as you think strangely. I shall see -you again. In common charity you will come to ask if I am alive or -dead. If you knew how near we are to each other, I am sure you would -promise!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can make no such promise," replied Emily; but the old cottager -seemed eager to end the interview; and speaking for her, he exclaimed, -"Oh, she will come, I am sure, Mistress Emily will come;" and hurried -her away, seeing her back to the little gate in the park wall.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XVI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton found Mr. Shanks, the attorney, the most -difficult -person to deal with whom she had ever met in her life. She had -remarked that he was keen, active, intelligent, unscrupulous, -confident in his own powers, bold as a lion in the wars of quill, -parchment, and red tape; without fear, without hesitation, without -remorse. There was nothing that he scrupled to do, nothing that he -ever repented having done. She had fancied that the only difficulty -which she could have to encounter was that of concealing from him, at -least in a degree, the ultimate objects and designs which she herself -had in view.</p> - -<p class="normal">So shrewd people often deceive themselves as to the character of other -shrewd people. The difficulty was quite different. It was a peculiar -sort of stolidity on the part of Mr. Shanks, for which she was utterly -unprepared.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now the attorney was ready to do any thing on earth which his fair -patroness wished. He would have perilled his name on the roll in her -service; and was only eager to understand what were her desires, even -without giving her the trouble of explaining them. Moreover, there was -no point of law or equity, no manner of roguery or chicanery, no -object of avarice, covetousness, or ambition, which he could not have -comprehended at once. They were things within his own ken and scope, -to which the intellect and resources of his mind were always open. But -to other passions, to deeper, more remote motives and emotions, Mr. -Shanks was as stolid as a door-post. It required to hew a way as it -were to his perceptions, to tunnel his mind for the passage of a new -conception.</p> - -<p class="normal">The only passion which afforded the slightest cranny of an opening was -revenge; and after having tried a dozen other ways of making him -comprehend what she wished without committing herself, Mrs. Hazleton -got him to understand that she thought Sir Philip Hastings had -injured--at all events, that he had offended--her, and that she sought -vengeance. From that moment all was easy. Mr. Shanks could understand -the feeling, though not its extent. He would himself have given ten -pounds out of his own pocket--the largest sum he had ever given in -life for any thing but an advantage--to be revenged upon the same man -for the insult he had received; and he could perceive that Mrs. -Hazleton would go much further, without, indeed, being able to -conceive, or even dream of, the extent to which she was prepared to -go.</p> - -<p class="normal">However, when he had once got the clue, he was prepared to run along -the road with all celerity; and now she found him every thing she had -expected. He was a man copious in resources, prolific of schemes. His -imagination had exercised itself through life, in devising crooked -paths; but in this instance the road was straight-forward before him. -He would rather it had been tortuous, it is true; but for the sake of -his dear lady he was ready to follow even a plain path, and he -explained to her that Sir Philip Hastings stood in a somewhat -dangerous position.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was proceeding to enter into the details, but Mrs. Hazleton -interrupted him, and, to his surprise, not only told him, but showed -him, that she knew all the particulars.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The only question is, Mr. Shanks," she said, "can you prove the -marriage of his elder brother to this woman before the birth of the -child?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"We think we can, madam," replied the attorney, "we think we can. -There is a very strong letter, and there has been evidently--"</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused and hesitated, and Mrs. Hazleton demanded, "There has been -what, Mr. Shanks?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There has been evidently a leaf torn out of the register," replied -the lawyer.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was something in his manner which made the lady gaze keenly in -his face; but she would ask no questions on that subject, and she -merely said, "Then why has not the case gone on, as it was put in your -hands six months ago?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, you see, my dear madam," replied Shanks, "law is at best -uncertain. One wants two or three great lawyers to make a case. Money -was short; John and his mother had spent all last year's annuity. -Barristers won't plead without fees, and besides--"</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused again, but an impatient gesture from the lady urged him on. -"Besides," he said, "I had devised a little scheme, which, of course, -I shall abandon now, for marrying him to Mistress Emily Hastings. He -is a very handsome young fellow, and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have seen him," said Mrs. Hazleton, thoughtfully, "but why should -you abandon this scheme, Mr. Shanks? It seems to me by no means a bad -one."</p> - -<p class="normal">The poor lawyer was now all at sea again, and fancied himself as wide -of the lady's aim as ever.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton suffered him to remain in this dull suspense for some -time. Wrapped up in her own thoughts, and busy with her own -calculations, she suffered several minutes to elapse without adding a -word to that which had so much surprised the attorney. Then, however, -she said, in a meditative tone, "There is only one way by which it can -be accomplished. If you allow it to be conducted in a formal manner, -you will fail utterly. Sir Philip will never consent. She will never -even yield."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But if Sir Philip is made to see that it will save him a tremendous -lawsuit, and perhaps his whole estate," suggested Mr. Shanks.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will resist the more firmly," answered the lady; "if it saved his -life, he would reject it with scorn--no! But there is a way. If you -can persuade her--if you can show her that her father's safety, his -position in life, depends upon her conduct, perhaps you may bring her -by degrees to consent to a private marriage. She is young, -inexperienced, enthusiastic, romantic. She loves her father devotedly, -and would make any sacrifice for him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No great sacrifice, I should think, madam," replied Mr. Shanks, "to -marry a handsome young man who has a just claim to a large fortune."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is as people may judge," replied the lady; "but at all events -this claim gives us a hold upon her which we must not fail to use, and -that directly. I will contrive means of bringing them together. I will -make opportunity for the lad, but you must instruct him how to use it -properly. All I can do is to co-operate without appearing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, my dear madam, I really do not fully understand," said Mr. -Shanks. "I had a fancy--a sort of imagination like, that you -wished--that you desired--"</p> - -<p class="normal">He hesitated; but Mrs. Hazleton would not help him by a single word, -and at last he added, "I had a fancy that you wished this suit -to go on against Sir Philip Hastings, and now--but that does not -matter--only do you really wish to bring it all to an end, to settle -it by a marriage between John and Mistress Emily?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will be the pleasantest, the easiest way of settling it, sir," -replied Mrs. Hazleton, coolly; "and I do not at all desire to injure, -but rather to serve Sir Philip and his family."</p> - -<p class="normal">That was false, for though to marry Emily Hastings to any one but Mr. -Marlow was what the lady did very sincerely desire; yet there was a -long account to be settled with Sir Philip Hastings which could not -well be discharged without a certain amount of injury to him and his. -The lady was well aware, too, that she had told a lie, and moreover -that it was one which Mr. Shanks was not at all likely to believe. -Perhaps even she did not quite wish him to believe it, and at all -events she knew that her actions must soon give it contradiction. But -men make strange distinctions between speech and action, not to be -accounted for without long investigation and disquisition. There are -cases where people shrink from defining in words their purposes, or -giving voice to their feelings, even when they are prepared by acts to -stamp them for eternity. There are cases where men do acts which they -dare not cover by a lie.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton sought for no less than the ruin of Sir Philip Hastings; -she had determined it in her own heart, and yet she would not own it -to her agent--perhaps she would not own it to herself. There is a dark -secret chamber in the breast of every one, at the door of which the -eyes of the spirit are blindfolded, that it may not see the things to -which it is consenting. Conscience records them silently, and sooner -or later her book is to be opened; it may be in this world: it may be -in the next: but for the time that book is in the keeping of passion, -who rarely suffers the pages to be seen till purpose has been ratified -by act, and remorse stands ready to pronounce the doom.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a pause after Mrs. Hazleton had spoken, for the attorney was -busy also with thoughts he wished to utter, yet dared not speak. The -first prospect of a lawsuit--the only sort of the picturesque in which -he could find pleasure--a long, intricate, expensive lawsuit, was -fading before his eyes as if a mist were coming over the scene. Where -were his consultations, his letters, his briefs, his pleas, its -rejoinders, his demurrers, his appeals? Where were the fees, the -bright golden fees? True, in the hopelessness of his young client's -fortunes, he had urged the marriage with a proviso, that if it took -place by his skilful management, a handsome bonus was to be his share -of the spoil. But then Mrs. Hazleton's first communication had raised -brighter hopes, had put him more in his own element, had opened to him -a scene of achievements as glorious to his notions as those of the -listed field to knights of old; and now all was vanishing away. Yet he -did not venture to tell her how much he was disappointed, still less -to show her why and how.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was the lady who spoke first; and she did so in as calm, -deliberate, passionless a tone as if she had been devising the fashion -of a new Mantua.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may be as well, Mr. Shanks," she said, "in order to produce the -effect we wish upon dear Emily's mind"--dear Emily!--"to commence the -suit against Sir Philip--I mean to take those first steps which may -create some alarm. I cannot of course judge what they ought to be, but -you must know; and if not, you must seek advice from counsel learned -in the law. You understand what I mean, doubtless."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, certainly, madam, certainly," replied Mr. Shanks, with a profound -sigh of relief. "First steps commit us to nothing: but they must be -devised cautiously, and I am very much afraid that--that--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Afraid of what, sir?" asked Mrs. Hazleton, in a tone somewhat stern.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only that the expense will be greater than my young client can -afford," answered the lawyer, seeing that he must come to the point.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let not that stand in the way," said Mrs. Hazleton at once; "I will -supply the means. What will be the expense?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would you object to say five hundred pounds?" asked the lawyer, -cautiously.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A thousand," replied the lady, with a slight inclination of the head; -and then, weary of circumlocution, she added in a bolder tone than she -had yet used, "only remember, sir, that what is done must be done -effectually; no mistakes, no errors, no flaws! See that you use all -your eyes--see that you bend every nerve to the task. I will have no -procrastination for the sake of fresh fees--nothing omitted one day to -be remembered the next--no blunders to be corrected after long delays -and longer correspondence. I know you lawyers and your ways right -well; and if I find that for the sake of swelling a bill to the -bursting, you attempt to procrastinate, the cause will be taken at -once from your hands and placed in those who will do their work more -speedily. You can practise those tricks upon those who are more or -less in your power; but you shall not play them upon me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I declare, my dear madam, I can assure you," said Mr. Shanks; but -Mrs. Hazleton cut him short. "There, there," she said, waving her fair -hand, "do not declare--do not assure me of any thing. Let your actions -speak, Mr. Shanks. I am too much accustomed to declarations and -assurances to set much value upon them. Now tell me, but in as few -words and with as few cant terms as possible, what are the chances of -success in this suit? How does the young man's case really stand?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Shanks would gladly have been excused such explanations. He never -liked to speak clearly upon such delicate questions, but he would not -venture to refuse any demand of Mrs. Hazleton's, and therefore he -began with a circumlocution in regard to the uncertainty of law, and -to the impossibility of giving any exact assurances of success.</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady would not be driven from her point, however. "That is not -what I sought to know," she said. "I am as well aware of the law's -uncertainty--of its iniquity, as you. But I ask you what grounds you -have to go upon? Were they ever really married? Is this son -legitimate?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The lady says they were married," replied Mr. Shanks cautiously, "and -I have good hope we can prove the legitimacy. There is a letter in -which the late Mr. John Hastings calls her 'my dear little wife;' and -then there is clearly a leaf torn out of the marriage register about -that very time."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Shanks spoke the last words slowly and with some hesitation; but -after a pause he went on more boldly and rapidly. "Then we have a -deposition of the old woman Danby that they were married. This is -clear and precise," he continued with a grin: "she wanted to put in -something about 'in the eyes of God,' but I left that out as beside -the question; and she did the swearing very well. She might have -broken down under cross-examination, it is true; and therefore it was -well to put off the trial till she was gone. We can prove, moreover, -that the late Sir John always paid an annuity to both mother and -child, in order to make them keep secret--nay more, that he bribed the -old woman Danby. This is our strong point; but it is beyond doubt--I -can prove it, madam--I can prove it. All I fear is the mother; she is -weak--very weak; I wish to heaven she were out of the way till the -trial is over."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Send her out of the way," cried Mrs. Hazleton, decidedly; "send her -to France;" and then she added, with a bitter smile, "she may still -figure amongst the beauties of Versailles.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But she will not go," replied Mr. Shanks. "Madam, she will not go. I -hinted at such a step--mentioned Cornwall or Ireland--any where she -could be concealed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Cornwall or Ireland!" exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton, "of course she would -not go. Why did not you propose Africa or the plantations? She shall -go, Mr. Shanks. Leave her to me. She shall go. And now, set to work at -once--immediately, I say--this very day. Send the youth to-morrow, and -let him bring me word that some step is taken. I will instruct him how -to act, while you deal with the law."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Shanks promised to obey, and retired overawed by all he had seen -and heard. There had, it is true, been no vehement demonstration of -passion; no fierce blaze; no violent flash; but there had been -indications enough to show the man of law all that was raging within. -It had been for him like gazing at a fine building on fire at that -period of the conflagration where dense smoke and heavy darkness brood -over the fearful scene, while dull, suddenly-smothered flashes break -across the gloom, and tell how terrible will be the flame when it does -burst freely forth.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had never known Mrs. Hazleton before--he had never comprehended her -fully. But now he knew her--now, though perhaps the depths were still -unfathomable to his eyes, he felt that there was a strong commanding -will within that beautiful form which would bear no trifling. He had -often treated her with easy lightness--with no want of apparent -respect indeed--but with the persuasions and arguments such as men of -business often address to women as beings inferior to themselves -either in intellect or experience. Now Mr. Shanks wondered how he had -escaped so long and so well, and he resolved that for the future his -conduct should be very different.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton, when he left her, sat down to rest--yes, to rest; for -she was very weary. There had been the fatiguing strife of strong -passions in the heart--hopes--expectations--schemes--contrivances; -and, above all, there had been a wrestling with herself to deal calmly -and softly where she felt fiercely. It had exhausted her; and for some -minutes she sat listlessly, with her eyes half shut, like one utterly -tired out. Ere a quarter of an hour had passed, wheels rolled up to -the door; a carriage-step was let down, and there was a footfall in -the hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear Mrs. Warmington, delighted to see you!" said Mrs. Hazleton, with -a smile sweet and gentle as the dawn of a summer morning.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XVII.</h4> - -<p class="normal">Circumstance will always have its finger in the pie with the best-laid -schemes; but it does not always happen that thereby the pie is -spoiled. On the contrary, circumstance is sometimes a very powerful -auxiliary, and it happened so in the present instance with the -arrangements of Mrs. Hazleton. Before that lady could bring any part -of her scheme for introducing Emily to the man whom she intended to -drive her into taking as a husband, to bear, the introduction had -already taken place, as we have seen, by an accident.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was likely, indeed, to go no further; for Emily thought over what -had occurred, before she gave way to her native kindness of heart. She -remembered how tenacious all country gentlemen of that day were of -their sporting rights, and especially of what she had often heard her -father declare, that he looked upon any body who took his game off his -property, according to every principle of equity and justice, as no -better than a common robber.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If the only excuse be that it is more exposed to depredation than -other property," said Sir Philip, "it only shows that the plunderer of -it is a coward as well as a villain, and should be punished the more -severely." Such, and many such speeches she had heard from her father -at various times, and it became a case of conscience, which puzzled -the poor girl much, whether she ought or ought not to have promised -not to mention what had occurred in the park. She loved no -concealment, and nothing would have induced her to tell a falsehood; -but she knew that if she mentioned the facts, especially while the -young man whom she had seen crossing the park with a gun lay wounded -at the cottage, great evil might have resulted; and though she -somewhat reproached herself for rashly giving her word, she would not -break it when given.</p> - -<p class="normal">As to seeing him again, however--as to visiting him at the cottage, -even to inquire after his health, when he had refused all aid from her -father's house, that was an act she never dreamed of. His last words, -indeed, had puzzled her; and there was something in his face, too, -which set her fancy wandering. It was not exactly what she liked; but -yet there was a resemblance, she thought, to some one she knew and was -attached to. It could not be to her father, she said to herself, and -yet her father's face recurred to her mind more frequently than any -other when she thought of that of the young man she had seen; and from -that fact a sort of prepossession in the youth's favor took possession -of her, making her long to know who he really was.</p> - -<p class="normal">For some days Emily did not go near the cottage, but at length she -ventured on the road which passed it--not without a hope, indeed, that -she might meet one of the old people who tenanted it, and have an -opportunity of inquiring after his health--but certainly not, as some -good-natured reader may suppose, with any expectation of seeing him -herself. As she approached, however, she perceived him sitting on a -bench at the cottage-door, and, by a natural impulse, she turned at -once into another path, which led back by a way nearly as short to the -hall. The young man instantly rose, and followed her, addressing her -by name, in a voice still weak, in truth, but too loud for her not to -hear, or to affect not to hear.</p> - -<p class="normal">She paused, rather provoked than otherwise, and slightly inclined her -head, while the young man approached, with every appearance of -respect, and thanked her for the assistance she had rendered him.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had had his lesson in the mean time, and he played his part not -amiss. All coarse swagger, all vulgar assumption was gone from his -manner; and referring himself to some words he had spoken when last -they had met, he said: "Pardon me, Miss Hastings, for what I said some -days ago, which might seem both strange and mysterious, and for -pressing to see you again; but at that time I was faint with loss of -blood, and knew not how this might end. I wished to tell you something -I thought you ought to hear; but now I am better; and I will find a -more fitting opportunity ere long."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will be better to say any thing you think fit to my father," -replied Emily. "I am not accustomed to deal with any matters of -importance; and any thing of so much moment as you seem to think this -is, would, of course, be told by me to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think not," replied the other, with a mysterious smile; "but of -that you will judge when you have heard all I have to say. Your father -is the last person to whom I would mention it myself, because I -believe, notwithstanding all his ability, he is the last person who -would judge sanely of it, as he would of most other matters; but, of -course, you will speak of it or not, as you think proper. At present," -he added, "I am too weak to attempt the detail, even if I could -venture to detain you here. I only wished to return you my best -thanks, and assure you of my gratitude;" and bowing low, he left her -to pursue her way homeward.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily went on musing. No woman's breast is without curiosity--nor any -man's, either--and she asked herself what could be the meaning of the -stranger's words, at least a dozen times. What could he have to tell -her, and why was there so much mystery? She did not like mystery, -however; and though she felt interested in the young man--felt pity, -in fact--yet it was by no means the interest that leads to, nor the -pity which is akin to love. On the contrary, she liked him less than -the first time she saw him. There was a certain degree of cunning in -his mysterious smile, a look of self-confidence, almost of triumph in -his face, which, in spite of his respectful demeanor, did not please -her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily's father was absent from home at this time; but he returned two -or three days after this last interview, and remarked that his -daughter was unusually grave. To her, and to all that affected her in -any way, his eyes were always open, though he often failed to -comprehend that which he observed. Lady Hastings, too, had noticed -Emily's unusual gravity, and as she had no clue to that which made her -thoughtful, she concluded that the solitude of the country had a -depressing influence upon her spirits, as it frequently had upon her -own and she determined to speak to her husband upon the matter. To him -she represented that the place was very dull; that they had but few -visitors; that even Mr. Marlow had not called for a week; and that -Emily really required some variety of scene and amusement.</p> - -<p class="normal">She reasoned well according to her notions, and though Sir Philip -could not quite comprehend them, though he abhorred great cities, and -loved the country, she had made some impression at least by -reiteration, when suddenly a letter arrived from Mrs. Hazleton, -petitioning that Emily might be permitted to spend a few days with -her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am quite alone," she said, "and not very well (she never was better -in her life), and I propose next week to make some excursions to all -the beautiful and interesting spots in the neighborhood. But you know, -dear Lady Hastings, there is but small pleasure in such expeditions -when they must be solitary; but with such a mind as that of your dear -Emily for my companion, every object will possess a double interest."</p> - -<p class="normal">The reader has perceived that the letter was addressed to Lady -Hastings; but it was written for the eye of Sir Philip, and to him it -was shown. Lady Hastings observed, as she put the note into her -husband's hand, that it would be much better to go to London. The -change from their own house to Mrs. Hazleton's was not enough to do -Emily any good; and that, as to these expeditions to neighboring -places, she had always found them the dullest things imaginable.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip thought differently, however. He had been brought to the -point of believing that Emily did want change, but not to the -conviction that London would afford the best change for her. He -inquired of Emily, however, which she would like best, a visit of a -week to Mrs. Hazleton's, or a short visit to the metropolis. Much to -his satisfaction, Emily decided at once in favor of the former, and -Mrs. Hazleton's letter was answered, accepting her invitation.</p> - -<p class="normal">The day before Emily went, Mr. Marlow spent nearly two hours with her -and her father in the sort of musy, wandering conversation which is so -delightful to imaginative minds. He paid Emily herself no marked or -particular attention; but he never suffered her to doubt that even -while talking with her father, he was fully conscious of her presence, -and pleased with it. Sometimes his conversation was addressed to her -directly, and when it was not, by a word or look he would invite her -to join in, and listened to her words as if they were very sweet to -his ear.</p> - -<p class="normal">She loved to listen to him, however, better than to speak herself, and -he contrived to please and interest her in all he said, gently moving -all sorts of various feelings, sometimes making her smile gayly, -sometimes muse thoughtfully, and sometimes rendering her almost sad. -If he had been the most practiced love-maker in the world, he could -not have done better with a mind like that of Emily Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">He heard of her proposed visit to Mrs. Hazleton with pleasure, and -expressed it. "I am very glad to hear you are to be with her," he -said, "for I do not think Mrs. Hazleton is well. She has lost her -usual spirits, and has been very grave and thoughtful when I have seen -her lately."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, if I can cheer and soothe her," cried Emily eagerly, "how -delightful my visit will be to me. Mrs. Hazleton says in her letter -that she is unwell; and that decided me to go to her, rather than to -London."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To London!" exclaimed Mr. Marlow, "I had no idea that you proposed -such a journey. Oh, Sir Philip, do not take your daughter to London. -Friends of mine there are often in the habit of bringing in fresh and -beautiful flowers from the country; but I always see that first they -become dull and dingy with the smoke and heavy air, and then wither -away and perish; and often in gay parties, I have thought that I saw -in the young and beautiful around me the same dulling influence, the -same withering, both of the body and the heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings smiled pleasantly, and assured his young friend -that he had no desire or intention of going to the capital except for -one month in the winter, and Emily looked up brightly, saying, "For my -part, I only wish that even then I could be left behind. When last I -was there, I was so tired of the blue velvet lining of the gilt -_vis-a-vis_, that I used to try and paint fancy pictures of the -country upon it as I drove through the streets with mamma."</p> - -<p class="normal">At length Emily set out in the heavy family coach, with her maid and -Sir Philip for her escort. Progression was slow in those days compared -with our own, when a man can get as much event into fifty years as -Methuselah did into a thousand. The journey took three hours at the -least; but it seemed short to Emily, for at the end of the first hour -they were overtaken by Mr. Marlow on horseback, and he rode along with -them to the gate of Mrs. Hazleton's house. He was an admirable -horseman, for he had not only a good but a graceful seat, and his -handsome figure and fine gentlemanly carriage never appeared to -greater advantage than when he did his best to be a centaur. The slow -progress of the lumbering vehicle might have been of some -inconvenience, but his horse was trained to canter to a walk when he -pleased, and, leaning to the window of the carriage, and sometimes -resting his hand upon it, he contrived to carry on the conversation -with those within almost as easily as in a drawing-room.</p> - -<p class="normal">Just as the carriage was approaching the gate, Marlow said: "I think I -shall not go in with you Sir Philip for I have a little business -farther on, and I have ridden more slowly than I thought;" but before -the sentence was well concluded, the gates of the park were opened by -the porter, and Mrs. Hazleton herself appeared within, leaning on the -arm of her maid. She had calculated well the period of Emily's -arrival, and had gone out to the gate for the purpose of giving her an -extremely hospitable welcome. Probably, had she not hated her as -warmly and sincerely as she did, she would have stayed at home; our -attention is ever doubtful.</p> - -<p class="normal">But what were Mrs. Hazleton's feelings when she saw Mr. Marlow riding -by the side of the carriage? I will not attempt to describe them; but -for one instant a strange dark cloud passed over her beautiful face. -It was banished in an instant; but not before Marlow had remarked both -the expression itself and the sudden glance of the lady's eyes from -him to Emily. For the first time a doubt, a suspicion, a something he -did not like to fathom, came over his mind; and he resolved to watch. -Neither Emily nor her father perceived that look, and as the next -moment the beautiful face was once more as bright as ever, they felt -pleased with her kind eagerness to meet them; and alighting from the -carriage, walked on with her to the house, while Marlow, dismounted, -accompanied them, leading his horse.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am glad to see you, Mr. Marlow," said Mrs. Hazleton, in a tone from -which she could not do what she would--banish all bitterness. "I -suppose I owe the pleasure of your visit to that which you yourself -feel in escorting a fair lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must not, I fear, pretend to such gallantry," replied Marlow. "I -overtook the carriage accidentally as I was riding to Mr. Cornelius -Brown's; and to say the truth, I did not intend to come in, for I am -somewhat late."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Cold comfort for my vanity," replied the lady, "that you would not -have paid me a visit unless you had met me at the gate."</p> - -<p class="normal">She spoke in a tone rather of sadness than of anger; but Marlow did -not choose to perceive any thing serious in her words, and he replied, -laughing: "Nay, dear Mrs. Hazleton, you do not read the riddle aright. -It shows, when rightly interpreted, that your society is so charming -that I cannot resist its influence when once within the spell, even -for the sake of the Englishman's god--Business."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A man always succeeds in drawing some flattery for woman's ear out of -the least flattering conduct," answered Mrs. Hazleton.</p> - -<p class="normal">The conversation then took another turn; and after walking with the -rest of the party up to the house, Marlow again mounted and rode away. -As soon as the horses had obtained some food and repose, Sir Philip -also returned, and Emily was left with a woman who felt at her heart -that she could have poniarded her not an hour before.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Mrs. Hazleton was all gentle sweetness, and calm, thoughtful, -dignified ease. She did not suffer her attention to to diverted for -one moment from her fair guest: there were no reveries, no absence of -mind; and Emily--poor Emily--thought her more charming than ever. -Nevertheless, while speaking upon many subjects, and brightly and -intelligently upon all, there was an under-current of thought going on -unceasingly in Mrs. Hazleton's mind, different from that upon the -surface. She was trying to read Marlow's conduct towards Emily--to -judge whether he loved her or not. She asked herself whether his -having escorted her to that house was in reality purely accidental, -and she wished that she could have seen them together but for a few -moments longer, though every moment had been a dagger to her heart. -Nay, she did more: she strove by many a dexterous turn of the -conversation, to lure out her fair unconscious guest's inmost -thoughts--to induce her, not to tell all, for that she knew was -hopeless, but to betray all. Emily, however, happily for herself, was -unconscious; she knew not that there was any thing to betray. -Fortunately, most fortunately, she knew not what was in her own -breast; or perhaps I should say, knew not what it meant. Her answers -were all simple, natural and true; and plain candor, as often happens, -disappointed art.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton retired for the night with the conviction that whatever -might be Marlow's feelings towards Emily, Emily was not in love with -Marlow; and that was something gained.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," she said, with a pride in her own discernment, "a woman who -knows something of the world can never be long deceived in regard to -another woman's heart." She should have added, "except by its -simplicity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," she continued, mentally, "to-morrow for the first great step. -If this youth can but demean himself wisely, and will follow the -advice I have given him, he has a fair field to act in. He seems -prompt and ready enough: he is assuredly handsome, and what between -his good looks, kind persuasion by others, and her father's dangerous -position, this girl methinks may be easily driven--or led into his -arms; and that stumbling-block removed. He will punish her enough -hereafter, or I am mistaken."</p> - -<p class="normal">Punish her for what, Mrs. Hazleton?</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XVIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was long ere Emily Hastings slept. There was a bright -moonlight; -but she sat not up by the window, looking out at the moon in love-lorn -guise. No, she laid her down in bed, as soon as the toilet of the -night was concluded, and having left the window-shutters open, the -light of the sweet, calm brightener of the night poured in a long, -tranquil ray across the floor. She watched it, with her head resting -on her hand for a long time. Her fancy was very busy with it, as by -slow degrees it moved its place, now lying like a silver carpet by her -bedside, now crossing the floor far away, and painting the opposite -wall. Her thoughts then returned to other things, and whether she -would or not, Marlow took a share in them. She remembered things that -he had said, his looks came back to her mind, she seemed to converse -with him again, running over in thought all that had passed in the -morning.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was no castle-builder; there were no schemes, plans, designs, in -her mind; no airy structures of future happiness employed fancy as -their architect. She was happy in her own heart; and imagination, like -a bee, extracted sweetness from the flowers of the present.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sweet Emily, how beautiful she looked, as she lay there, and made a -night-life for herself in the world of her own thoughts!</p> - -<p class="normal">She could not sleep, she knew not why. Indeed, she did not wish or try -to sleep. She never did when sleep did not come naturally; but always -remained calmly waiting for the soother, till slumber dropped uncalled -and stilly upon her eyelids.</p> - -<p class="normal">One hour--two hours--the moonbeam had retired far into a corner of the -room, the household was all still; there was no sound but the barking -of a distant farm-dog, such a long way off; that it reached the ear -more like an echo than a sound, and the crowing of a cock, not much -more near.</p> - -<p class="normal">Suddenly, her door opened, and a figure entered, bearing a small -night-lamp. Emily started, and gazed. She was pot much given to fear, -and she uttered not a sound; for which command over herself she was -very thankful, when, in the tall, graceful form before her, she -recognized Mrs. Hazleton. She was dressed merely as she had risen from -her bed: her rich black hair bound up under her snowy cap, her long -night-gown trailing on the ground, and her feet bare. Yet she looked -perhaps more beautiful than in jewels and ermine. Her eyes were not -fixed and motionless, though there was a certain sort of deadness in -them. Neither were her movements stiff and mechanical, as we often see -in the representations of somnambulism on the stage. On the contrary, -they were free and graceful. She looked neither like Mrs. Siddons nor -any other who ever acted what she really was. Those who have seen the -state know better. She was walking in her sleep, however: that strange -act of a life apart from waking life--that mystery of mysteries, when -the soul seems severed from all things on earth but the body which it -inhabits--when the mind sleeps, but the spirit wakes--when the animal -and the spiritual live together, yet the intellectual lies dead for -the time.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily comprehended her condition at once, and waited and watched, -having heard that it is dangerous to wake suddenly a person in such a -state. Mrs. Hazleton walked on past her bed towards a door at the -other side of the room, but stopped opposite the toilet-table, took up -a ribbon that was lying on it, and held it in her hand for a moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hate him!" she said aloud; "but strangle him--oh, no! That would -not do. It would leave a blue mark. I hate him, and her too! They -can't help it--they must fall into the trap."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily rose quietly from her bed, and advancing with a soft step, took -Mrs. Hazleton's hand gently. She made no resistance, only gazing at -her with a look not utterly devoid of meaning. "A strange world!" she -said, "where people must live with those they hate!" and suffered -Emily to lead her towards the door. She showed some reluctance to pass -it, however, and turned slowly towards the other door. Her beautiful -young guide led her thither, and opened it; then went on through the -neighboring room, which was vacant, Mrs. Hazleton saying, as they -passed the large bed canopied with velvet, "My mother died there--ah, -me!" The next door opened into the corridor; but Emily knew not where -her hostess slept, till perceiving a light streaming out upon the -floor from a room near the end, she guided Mrs. Hazleton's steps -thither, rightly judging that it must be the chamber she had just -left. There she quietly induced her to go to bed again, taking the -lamp from her hand, and bending down her sweet, innocent face, gave -her a gentle kiss.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Asp!" said Mrs. Hazleton, turning away; but Emily remained with her -for several minutes, till the eyes closed, the breathing became calm -and regular, and natural sleep succeeded to the strange state into -which she had fallen.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then returning to her own room, Emily once more sought her bed; but -though the moonlight had now departed, she was farther from sleep than -ever.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton's words still rang in her ears. She thought them very -strange; but yet she had heard--it was indeed a common superstition in -those days--that people talking in their sleep expressed feelings -exactly the reverse of those which they really entertained; and her -good, bright heart was glad to believe. She would not for the world -have thought that the fair form, and gentle, dignified manners of her -friend could shroud feelings so fierce and vindictive as those which -had breathed forth in the utterance of that one word, "hate." It -seemed to her impossible that Mrs. Hazleton could hate any thing, and -she resolved to believe so still. But yet the words rang in her ears, -as I have said. She had been somewhat agitated and alarmed, too, -though less than many might have been, and more than an hour passed -before her sweet eyes closed.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the morning of the following day, Emily was somewhat late at -breakfast; and she found Mrs. Hazleton down, and looking bright and -beautiful as the morning. It was evident that she had not even the -faintest recollection of what had occurred in the night--that it was a -portion of her life apart, between which and waking existence there -was no communication open. Emily determined to take no notice of her -sleep-walking; and she was wise, for I have always found, that to be -informed of their strange peculiarity leaves an awful and painful -impression on the real somnambulists--a feeling of being unlike the -rest of human beings, of having a sort of preternatural existence, -over which their human reason can hold no control. They fear -themselves--they fear their own acts--perhaps their own words, when -the power is gone from that familiar mind, which is more or less the -servant, if not the slave, of will, and when the whole mixed being, -flesh, and mind, and spirit, is under the sole government of that -darkest, least known, most mysterious personage of the three--the -soul.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton scolded her jestingly for late rising, and asked if she -was always such a lie-abed. Emily replied that she was not, but -usually very matutinal in her habits. "But the truth is, dear Mrs. -Hazleton," she added, "I did not sleep well last night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed," said her fair hostess, with a gay smile; "who were you -thinking of to keep your young eyes open?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of you," answered Emily, simply; and Mrs. Hazleton asked no more -questions; for, perhaps, she did not wish Emily to think of her too -much. Immediately after breakfast the carriage was ordered for a long -drive.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will give you so large a dose of mountain air," said Mrs. Hazleton, -"that it shall insure you a better night's rest than any narcotic -could procure, Emily. We will go and visit Ellendon Castle, far in the -wilds, some sixteen miles hence."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily was well pleased with the prospect, and they set out together, -both apparently equally prepared to enjoy every thing they met with. -The drive was a long one in point of time, for not only were the -carriages more cumbrous and heavy in those days, but the road -continued ascending nearly the whole way. Sometimes, indeed, a short -run down into a gentle valley released the horses from the continual -tug on the collar, but it was very brief, and the ascent commenced -almost immediately. Beautiful views over the scenery round presented -themselves at every turn; and Emily, who had all the spirit of a -painter in her heart, looked forth from the window enchanted.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton marked her enjoyment with great satisfaction; for either -by study or intuition she had a deep knowledge of the springs and -sources of human emotions, and she knew well that one enthusiasm -always disposes to another. Nay, more, she knew that whatever is -associated in the mind with pleasant scenes is usually pleasing, and -she had plotted the meeting between Emily and him she intended to be -her lover with considerable pains to produce that effect. Nature -seemed to have been a sharer in her schemes. The day could not have -been better chosen. There was the light fresh air, the few floating -clouds, the merry dancing gleams upon hill and dale, a light, -momentary shower of large, jewel-like drops, the fragment of a broken -rainbow painting the distant verge of heaven.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length the summit of the hills was reached; and Mrs. Hazleton told -her sweet companion to look out there, ordering the carriage at the -same time to stop. It was indeed a scene well worthy of the gaze. Far -spreading out beneath the eye lay a wide basin in the hills, walled -in, as it were, by those tall summits, here and there broken by a -crag. The ground sloped gently down from the spot at which the -carriage paused, so that the whole expanse was open to the eye, and -over the short brown herbage, through which a purple gleam from the -yet unblossomed heath shone out, the lights and shades seemed sporting -in mad glee. All was indeed solitary, uncultivated, and even barren, -except where, in the very centre of the wide hollow, appeared a number -of trees, not grouped together in a wood, but scattered over a -considerable space of ground, as if the remnants of some old -deer-park, and over their tall tops rose up the ruined keep of some -ancient stronghold of races passed away, with here and there another -tower or pinnacle appearing, and long lines of grassy mounds, greener -than the rest of the landscape, glancing between the stems of the -older trees, or bearing up in picturesque confusion their own growth -of wild, fantastic, seedling ashes.</p> - -<p class="normal">By the name of the spot, Ellendon, which means strong-hill, I believe -it is more than probable that the Anglo-Saxons had here some forts -before the conquest; but the ruin which now presented itself to the -eyes of Emily and Mrs. Hazleton was evidently of a later date and of -Norman construction.</p> - -<p class="normal">Here, probably, some proud baron of the times of Henry, Stephen, or -Matilda, had built his nest on high, perchance to overawe the Saxon -churls around him, perhaps to set at defiance the royal power itself. -Here the merry chase had swept the hills; here revelry and pageantry -had checkered a life of fierce strife and haughty oppression. Such -scenes, at least such thoughts, presented themselves to the -imaginative mind of Emily, like the dreamy gleams that skimmed in gold -and purple before her eyes; but the effect of any strong feeling, -whether of enjoyment or of grief, was always to make her silent; and -she gazed without uttering a word.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton, however, understood some points in her character, and -by the long fixed look from beneath the dark sweeping lashes of her -eye, by the faint sweet smile that gently curled her young, beautiful -lip, and by the sort of gasping sigh after she had gazed breathless -for some moments, she knew how intense was that gentle creature's -delight in a scene, which to many an eye would have offered no -peculiar charm.</p> - -<p class="normal">She would not suffer it to lose any of its first effect, and after a -brief pause ordered the carriage to drive on. Still Emily continued to -look onwards out of carriage-window, and as the road turned in the -descent, the castle and the ancient trees grouped themselves -differently every minute. At length, as they came nearer, she said, -turning to Mrs. Hazleton, "There seems to be a man standing at the -very highest point of the old keep."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He must be bold indeed," replied her companion, looking out also. -"When you come close to it, dear Emily, you will see that it requires -the foot of a goat and the heart of a lion to climb up there over the -rough, disjointed, tottering stones. Good Heaven, I hope he will not -fall!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily closed her eyes. "It is very foolish," she said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, men have pleasure in such feats of daring," answered Mrs. -Hazleton, "which we women cannot understand. He is coming down again -as steadily as if he were treading a ball-room. I wish that tree were -out of the way."</p> - -<p class="normal">In two or three minutes the carriage passed between two rows of old -and somewhat decayed oaks, and stopped between the fine gate of the -castle, covered with ivy, and rugged with the work of Time's too -artistic hand, and a building which, if it did not detract from the -picturesque beauty of the scene, certainly deprived it of all romance. -There, just opposite the entrance, stood a small house, built -apparently of stones stolen from the ruins, and bearing on a pole -projecting from the front a large blue sign-board, on which was rudely -painted in yellow, the figure of what we now call a French horn, while -underneath appeared a long inscription to the following effect:</p> - -<p class="normal">"John Buttercross, at the sign of the Bugle Horn, sells wine and aqua -vitæ, and good lodgings to man and horse. N. B. Donkeys to be found -within."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily laughed, and in an instant came down to common earth.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton wished both John Buttercross and his sign in one fire or -another; though she could not help owning that such a house in so -remote a place might be a great convenience to visitors like herself. -She took the matter quietly, however, returning Emily's gay look with -one somewhat rueful, and saying, "Ah, dear girl, all very mundane and -unromantic, but depend upon it the house has proved a blessing often -to poor wanderers in bleak weather over these wild hills; and we -ourselves may find it not so unpleasant by and by when Paul has spread -our luncheon in the parlor, and we look out of its little casement at -the old ruin there."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, she alighted from the carriage, gave some orders to her -servants, and to an hostler who was walking up and down a remarkably -beautiful horse, which seemed to have been ridden hard, and then -leaning on Emily's arm, walked up the slope towards the gate.</p> - -<p class="normal">Barbican and outer walls were gone--fallen long ago into the ditch, -and covered with the all-receiving earth and a green coat of turf. You -could but tell were they lay, by the undulations of the ground, and -the grassy hillock here and there. The great gate still stood firm, -however, with its two tall towers, standing like giant wardens to -guard the entrance. There were the machicolated parapets, the long -loopholes mantled with ivy, the outsloping basement, against which the -battering ram might have long played in vain, the family escutcheon -with the arms crumbled from it, the portcullis itself showing its iron -teeth above the traveller's head. It was the most perfect part of the -building; and when the two ladies entered the great court the scene of -ruin was more complete. Many a tower had fallen, leaving large gaps in -the inner wall; the chapel with only one beautiful window left, and -the fragments of two others, showing where the fine line had run, lay -mouldering on the right, and at some distance in front appeared the -tall majestic keep, the lower rooms of which were in tolerable -preservation, though the roof had fallen in to the second story, and -the airy summit had lost its symmetry by the destruction of two entire -sides. Short green turf covered the whole court, except where some -mass of stone, more recently fallen than others, still stood out bare -and gray; but a crop of brambles and nettles bristled up near the -chapel, and here and there a tree had planted itself on the tottering -ruins of the walls.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton walked straight towards the entrance of the keep along a -little path sufficiently well worn to show that the castle had -frequent visitors, and was within a few steps of the doorway, when a -figure issued forth which to say sooth did not at all surprise her to -behold. She gave a little start, however, saying in a low tone to -Emily, "That must be our climbing friend whose neck we thought in such -peril a short time since."</p> - -<p class="normal">The gentleman--for such estate was indicated by his dress, which was -dark and sober, but well made and costly--took a step or two slowly -forward, verging a little to the side as if to let two ladies pass -whom he did not know; but then suddenly he stopped, gazed for an -instant with a well assumed look of surprise and inquiry, and then -hurried rapidly towards them, raising hie hat not ungracefully, while -Mrs. Hazleton exclaimed, "Ah, how fortunate! Here is a friend who -doubtless can tell us all about the ruins."</p> - -<p class="normal">At the same moment Emily recognized the young man whom she had found -accidentally wounded in her father's park.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XIX.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Let me introduce Mr. Ayliffe to you, Emily," said Mrs. -Hazleton; "but -you seem to know each other already. Is it so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have seen this gentleman before," replied her young companion, "but -did not know his name. I hope you have quite recovered from your -wound?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite, I thank you, Miss Hastings," replied John Ayliffe, in a quiet -and respectful tone; but then he added, "the interest you kindly -showed on the occasion, I believe did much to cure me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Too much, and too soon!" thought Mrs. Hazleton, as she remarked a -slight flush pass over Emily's cheek, to which her reply gave -interpretation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Every one, I suppose, would feel the same interest," answered the -beautiful girl, "in suffering such as you seemed to endure when I -accidentally met you in the park. Shall we go on into the Castle?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The last words were addressed to Mrs. Hazleton, who immediately -assented, but asked Mr. Ayliffe to act as their guide, and, at the -very first opportunity, whispered to him, "not too quick."</p> - -<p class="normal">He seemed to comprehend in a moment what she meant; and during the -rest of the ramble round the ruins behaved himself with a good deal of -discretion. His conversation could not be said to be agreeable to -Emily; for there was little in it either to amuse or interest. His -stores of information were very limited--at least upon subjects which -she herself was conversant; and although he endeavored to give it, -every now and then, a poetical turn, the attempt was not very -successful. On the whole, however, he did tolerably well till after -the luncheon at the inn, to which Mrs. Hazleton invited him, when he -began to entertain his two fair companions with an account of a rat -hunt, which surprised Emily not a little, and drew, almost instantly, -from Mrs. Hazleton a monitory gesture.</p> - -<p class="normal">The young man looked confused, and broke off, suddenly, with an -embarrassed laugh, saying, "Oh! I forgot, such exploits are not very -fit for ladies' ears; and, to say the truth, I do not much like them -myself when there is any thing better to do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should think that something better might always be found," replied -Mrs. Hazleton, gravely, taking to her own lips the reproof which she -knew was in Emily's heart; "but, I dare say, you were a boy when this -happened?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, quite a boy," he said, "quite a boy. I have other things to think -of now."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the impression was made, and it was not favorable. With keen -acuteness Mrs. Hazleton watched every look, and every turn of the -conversation; and seeing that the course of things had begun ill for -her purposes, she very soon proposed to order the carriage and return; -resolving to take, as it were, a fresh start on the following day. She -did not then ask young Ayliffe to dine at her house, as she had, at -first, intended; but was well pleased, notwithstanding, to see him -mount his horse in order to accompany them on the way back; for she -had remarked that his horsemanship was excellent, and well knew that -skill in manly exercises is always a strong recommendation in a -woman's eyes. Nor was this all: decidedly handsome in person, John -Ayliffe had, nevertheless, a certain common--not exactly vulgar--air, -when on his feet, which was lost as soon as he was in the saddle. -There, with a perfect seat, and upright, dashing carriage, managing a -fierce, wild horse with complete mastery, he appeared to the greatest -advantage. All his horsemanship was thrown away upon Emily. If she had -been asked by any one, she would have admitted, at once, that he was a -very handsome man, and a good and graceful rider; but she never asked -herself whether he was or not; and, indeed, did not think about it at -all.</p> - -<p class="normal">One thing, however, she did think, and that was not what Mrs. Hazleton -desired. She thought him a coarse and vulgar-minded young man; and she -wondered how a woman of such refinement as Mrs. Hazleton could be -pleased with his society. There was at the end of that day only one -impression in his favor, which was produced by an undefinable -resemblance to her father, evanescent, but ever returning. There was -no one feature like: the coloring was different: the hair, eyes, -beard, all dissimilar. He was much handsomer than Sir Philip Hastings -ever had been; but ever and anon there came a glance of the eye, or a -curl of the lip; a family expression which was familiar and pleasant -to her. John Ayliffe accompanied the carriage to the gate of Mrs. -Hazleton's park; and there the lady beckoned him up, and in a kind, -half jesting tone, bade him keep himself disengaged the next day, as -she might want him.</p> - -<p class="normal">He promised to obey, and rode away; but Mrs. Hazleton never mentioned -his name again during the evening, which passed over in quiet -conversation, with little reference to the events of the morning.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before she went to bed, however, Mrs. Hazleton wrote a somewhat long -epistle to John Ayliffe, full of very important hints for his conduct -the next day, and ending with an injunction to burn the letter as soon -as he had read it. This done, she retired to rest; and that night, -what with free mountain air and exercise, she and Emily both slept -soundly. The next morning, however, she felt, or affected to feel, -fatigue; and put off another expedition which had been proposed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Noon had hardly arrived, when Mr. Ayliffe presented himself, to -receive her commands he said, and there he remained, invited to stay -to dinner, not much to Emily's satisfaction; but, at length, she -remembered that she had letters to write, and, seated at a table in -the window, went on covering sheets of paper, with a rapid hand, for -more than an hour; while John Ayliffe seated himself by Emily's -embroidery frame, and labored to efface the bad impression of the day -before, by a very different strain of conversation. He spoke of many -things more suited to her tastes and habits than those which he had -previously noticed, and spoke not altogether amiss. But yet, there was -something forced in it all. It was as if he were reading sentences out -of a book, and, in truth, it is probable he was repeating a lesson.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily did not know what to do. She would have given the world to be -freed from his society; to have gone out and enjoyed her own thoughts -amongst woods and flowers; or even to have sat quietly in her own room -alone, feeling the summer air, and looking at the glorious sky. To -seek that refuge, however, she thought would be rude; and to go out to -walk in the park would, she doubted not, induce him to follow. She sat -still, therefore, with marvellous patience, answering briefly when an -answer was required; but never speaking in reply with any of that free -pouring forth of heart and mind which can only take place where -sympathy is strong.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was rewarded for her endurance, for when it had lasted well nigh -as long as she could bear it, the drawing-room door opened, and Mr. -Marlow appeared. His eyes instantly fixed upon Emily with that young -man sitting by her side; and a feeling, strange and painful, came -upon him. But the next instant the bright, glad, natural, unchecked -look, of satisfaction, with which she rose to greet him, swept every -doubt-making jealousy away.</p> - -<p class="normal">Very different was the look of Mrs. Hazleton. For an instant--a single -instant--the same black shadow, which I have mentioned once before, -came across her brow, the same lightning flashed from her eye. But -both passed away in a moment; and the feelings which produced them -were again hidden in her heart. They were bitter enough; for she -had read, with the clear eyesight of jealousy, all that Marlow's -look of surprise and annoyance--all that Emily's look of joy and -relief--betrayed.</p> - -<p class="normal">They might not yet call themselves lovers--they might not even be -conscious that they were so; but that they were and would be, from -that moment, Mrs. Hazleton had no doubt. The conviction had come upon -her, not exactly gradually, but by fits, as it were--first a doubt, -and then a fear, and then a certainty that one, and then that both -loved.</p> - -<p class="normal">If it were so, she knew that her present plans must fail; but yet she -pursued them with an eagerness very different than before--a wild, -rash, almost frantic eagerness. There was a chance, she thought, of -driving Emily into the arms of John Ayliffe, with no love for him, and -love for another; and there was a bitter sort of satisfaction in the -very idea. Fears for her father she always hoped might operate, where -no other inducement could have power, and such means she resolved to -bring into play at once, without waiting for the dull, long process of -drilling Ayliffe into gentlemanly carriage, or winning for him some -way in Emily's regard. To force her to marry him, hating rather than -loving him, would be a mighty gratification, and for it Mrs. Hazleton -resolved at once to strike; but she knew that hypocrisy was needed -more than ever; and therefore it was that the brow was smoothed, the -eye calmed in a moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">To Marlow, during his visit, she was courteous and civil enough, but -still so far cold as to give him no encouragement to stay long. She -kept watch too upon all that passed, not only between him and Emily, -but between him and John Ayliffe; for a quarrel between them, which -she thought likely, was not what she desired. But there was no danger -of such a result. Marlow treated the young man with a cold and distant -politeness--a proud civility, which left him no pretence for offence, -and yet silenced and abashed him completely. During the whole visit, -till towards its close, the contrast between the two men was so marked -and strong, so disadvantageous to him whom Mrs. Hazleton sought to -favor, that she would have given much to have had Ayliffe away from -such a damaging companion. At length she could endure it no longer, -and contrived to send him to seek for some flowers which she pretended -to want, and which she knew he would not readily find in her gardens.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before he returned, Marlow was gone; and Emily, soon after, retired to -her own room, leaving the youth and Mrs. Hazleton together.</p> - -<p class="normal">The three met again at dinner, and, for once, a subject was brought -up, by accident, or design--which, I know not--that gave John Ayliffe -an opportunity of setting himself in a somewhat better light. Every -one has some amenity--some sweeter, gentler spot in the character. He -had a great love for flowers--a passion for them; and it brought forth -the small, very small portion of the poetry of the heart which had -been assigned to him by nature. It was flowers then that Mrs. Hazleton -talked of, and he soon joined in discussing their beauties, with a -thorough knowledge of, and feeling for his subject. Emily was somewhat -surprised, and, with natural kindness, felt glad to find some topic -where she could converse with him at ease. The change of her manner -encouraged him, and he went on, for once, wisely keeping to a subject -on which he was at home, and which seemed so well to please. Mrs. -Hazleton helped him greatly with a skill and rapidity which few could -have displayed, always guiding the conversation back to the well -chosen theme, whenever it was lost for an instant.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, when the impression was most favorable, John Ayliffe rose -to go--I know not whether he did so at a sign from Mrs. Hazleton; but -I think he did. Few men quit a room gracefully--it is a difficult -evolution--and he, certainly, did not. But Emily's eyes were in a -different direction, and to say the truth, although he had seemed to -her more agreeable that evening than he had been before, she thought -too little of him at all to remark how he quitted the room, even if -her eyes had been upon him.</p> - -<p class="normal">From time to time, indeed, some of the strange vague words which he -had used when she had seen him in the park, had recurred to her mind -with an unpleasant impression, and she had puzzled herself with the -question of what could be their meaning; but she soon dismissed the -subject, resolving to seek some information from Mrs. Hazleton, who -seemed to know the young man so well.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the preceding night, that lady had avoided all mention of him; but -that was not the case now. She spoke of him, almost as soon as he was -gone, in a tone of some compassion, alluding vaguely and mysteriously -to misfortunes and disadvantages under which he had labored, and -saying, that it was marvellous to see how much strength of mind, and -natural high qualities, could effect against adverse circumstances. -This called forth from Emily the inquiry which she had meditated, and -although she could not recollect exactly the words John Ayliffe had -used, she detailed, with sufficient accuracy, all that had taken place -between herself and him; and the strange allusion he had made to Sir -Philip Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton gazed at her for a moment or two after she had done -speaking, with a look expressive of anxious concern.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust, my dear Emily," she said, at length, "that you did not repel -him at all harshly. I have had much sad experience of the world, and I -know that in youth we are too apt to touch hardly and rashly, things -that for our own best interests, as well as for good feeling's sake, -we ought to deal with tenderly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not think that I spoke harshly," replied Emily, thoughtfully; "I -told him that any thing he had to say must be said to my father; but I -do not believe I spoke even that unkindly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am glad to hear it--very glad;" replied Mrs. Hazleton, with much -emphasis; and then, after a short pause, she added, "Yet I do not know -that your father--excellent, noble-minded, just and generous as he -is--was the person best fitted to judge and act in the matter which -John Ayliffe might have to speak of."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" exclaimed Emily, becoming more and more surprised, and in -some degree alarmed, "this is very strange, dear Mrs. Hazleton. You -seem to know more of this matter; pray explain it all to me. I may -well hear from you, what would be improper for me to listen to from -him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has a kindly heart," said Mrs. Hazleton, thoughtfully, "and more -forbearance than I ever knew in one so young; but it cannot last for -ever; and when he is of age, which will be in a few days, he must act; -and I trust will act kindly and gently--I am sure he will, if nothing -occurs to irritate a bold and decided character."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But act how?" inquired Emily, eagerly; "you forget, dear Mrs. -Hazleton, that I am quite in the dark in this matter. I dare say that -he is all that you say; but I will own that neither his manners -generally, nor his demeanor on that occasion, led me to think very -well of him, or to believe that he was of a forbearing or gentle -nature."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has faults," said Mrs. Hazleton, dryly; "oh yes, he has faults, -but they are those of manner, more than heart or character--faults -produced by circumstances may be changed by circumstances--which would -never have existed, had he had, earlier, one judicious, kind, and -experienced friend to counsel and direct him. They are disappearing -rapidly, and, if ever he should fall under the influences of a -generous and noble spirit, will vanish altogether."</p> - -<p class="normal">She was preparing the way, skilfully exciting, as she saw, some -interest in Emily, and yet producing some alarm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But still you do not explain," said the beautiful girl, anxiously; -"do not, dear Mrs. Hazleton, keep me longer in suspense."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot--I ought not, Emily, to explain all to you," replied the -lady, "it would be a long and painful story; but this I may tell you, -and after that, ask me no more. That young man has your father's -fortunes and his fate entirely in his hands. He has forborne long. -Heaven grant that his forbearance may still endure."</p> - -<p class="normal">She ceased, and after one glance at Emily's face, she cast down her -eyes, and seemed to fall into thought.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily gazed up towards the sky, as if seeking counsel there, and then, -bursting into tears, hurriedly quitted the room.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XX.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Emily's night was not peaceful. The very idea that her -father's fate -was in the power of any other man, was, in itself, trouble enough; but -in the present case there was more. Why, or wherefore, she knew not; -but there was something told her that, in spite of all Mrs. Hazleton's -commendations, and the fair portrait she had so elaborately drawn, -John Ayliffe was not a man to use power mercifully. She tried eagerly -to discover what had created this impression: she thought of every -look and every word which she had seen upon the young man's -countenance, or heard from his lips; and she fixed at length more upon -the menacing scowl which she had marked upon his brow in the cottage, -than even upon the menacing language which he had held when her -father's name was mentioned.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sleep visited not her eyes for many an hour, and when at length her -eyes closed through fatigue, it was restless and dreamful. She fancied -she saw John Ayliffe holding Sir Philip on the ground, trying to -strangle him. She strove to scream for help, but her lips seemed -paralyzed, and there was no sound. That strange anguish of sleep--the -anguish of impotent strong will--of powerless passion--of effort -without effect, was upon her, and soon burst the bonds of slumber. It -would have been impossible to endure it long. All must have felt that -it is greater than any mortal agony; and that if he could endure more -than a moment, like a treacherous enemy it would slay us in our sleep.</p> - -<p class="normal">She awoke unrefreshed, and rose pale and sad. I cannot say that Mrs. -Hazleton, when she beheld Emily's changed look, felt any great -compunction. If she had no great desire to torture, which I will not -pretend to say, she did not at all object to see her victim suffer; -but Emily's pale cheek and distressed look afforded indications still -more satisfactory; which Mrs. Hazleton remarked with the satisfaction -of a philosopher watching a successful experiment. They showed that -the preparation she had made for what was coming, was even more -effectual than she had expected, and so the abstract pleasure of -inflicting pain on one she hated, was increased by the certainty of -success.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily said little--referred not at all to the subject of her thoughts, -but dwelt upon it--pondered in silence. To one who knew her she might -have seemed sullen, sulky; but it was merely that one of those fits of -deep intense communion with the inner things of the heart--those -abstracted rambles through the mazy wilderness of thought, which -sometimes fell upon her, was upon her now. At these times it was very -difficult to draw her spirit forth into the waking world again--to -rouse her to the things about her life. It seemed as if her soul was -absent far away, and that the mere animal life of the body remained. -Great events might have passed before her eyes, without her knowing -aught of them.</p> - -<p class="normal">On all former occasions but one, these reveries--for so I must call -them--had been of a lighter and more pleasant nature. In them it -had seemed as if her young spirit had been tempted away from the -household paths of thought, far into tangled wilds where it had lost -itself--tempted, like other children, by the mere pleasure of the -ramble--led on to catch a butterfly, or chase the rainbow. -Feeling--passion, had not mingled with the dream at all, and -consequently there had been no suffering. I am not sure that on other -occasions, when such absent fits fell upon her, Emily Hastings was not -more joyous, more full of pure delight, than when, in a gay and -sparkling mood, she moved her father's wonder at what he thought light -frivolity. But now it was all bitter: the labyrinth was dark as well -as intricate, and the thorns tore her as she groped for some path -across the wilderness.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before it had lasted very long--before it had at all reached its -conclusion--and as she had sat at the window of the drawing-room, -gazing out upon the sky without seeing either white cloud or blue, Sir -Philip Hastings himself, on a short journey for some magisterial -purpose, entered the room, spoke a few words to Mrs. Hazleton, and -then turned to his daughter. Had he been half an hour later, Emily -would have cast her arms round his neck and told him all; but as it -was, she remained self-involved, even in his presence--answered indeed -mechanically--spoke words of affection with an absent air, and let the -mind still run on upon the path which it had chosen.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip had no time to stay till this fit was past, and Mrs. -Hazleton was glad to get rid of him civilly before any other act of -the drama began.</p> - -<p class="normal">But his daughter's mood did not escape Sir Philip's eyes. I have said -that for her he was full of observation, though he often read the -results wrongly; and now he marked Emily's mood with doubt, and not -with pleasure. "What can this mean?" he asked himself, "can any thing -have gone wrong? It is strange, very strange. Perhaps her mother was -right after all, and it might have been better to take her to the -capital."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus thinking, Sir Philip himself fell into a reverie, not at all -unlike that in which he had found his daughter. Yet he understood not -hers, and pondered upon it as something strange and inextricable.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time, Emily thought on, till at length Mrs. Hazleton -reminded her that they were to go that day to the Waterfall. She rose -mechanically, sought her room, dressed, and gazed from the window.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is wonderful, however, how small a thing will sometimes take the -mind, as it were, by the hand, and lead it back out of shadow into -sunshine. From the lawn below the window a light bird sprang up into -the air, quivered upon its twinkling wings, uttered a note or two, and -then soared higher, and each moment as it rose up, up, into the sky, -the song, like a spirit heavenward bound, grew stronger and more -strong, and flooded the air with melody.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily watched it as it rose, listened to it as it sang. Its upward -flight seemed to carry her spirit above the dark things on which it -brooded; its thrilling voice to waken her to cheerful life again. -There is a high holiness in a lark's song; and hard must be the heart, -and strong and corrupt, that does not raise the voice and join with it -in its praise to God.</p> - -<p class="normal">When she went down again into the drawing-room, she was quite a -different being, and Mrs. Hazleton marvelled what could have happened -so to change her. Had she been told that it was a lark's song, she -would have laughed the speaker to scorn. She was not one to feel it.</p> - -<p class="normal">I will not pause upon the journey of the morning, nor describe the -beautiful fall of the river that they visited, or tell how it fell -rushing over the precipice, or how the rocks dashed it into diamond -sparkles, or how rainbows bannered the conflict of the waters, and -boughs waved over the struggling stream like plumes. It was a sweet -and pleasant sight, and full of meditation; and Mrs. Hazleton, judging -perhaps of others by herself, imagined that it would produce in the -mind of Emily those softening influences which teach the heart to -yield readily to the harder things of life.</p> - -<p class="normal">There is, perhaps, not a more beautiful, nor a more frequently -applicable allegory than that of the famous Amreeta Cup--I know not -whether devised by Southey, or borrowed by him from the rich store of -instructive fable hidden in oriental tradition. It is long, long, -since I read it; but yet every word is remembered whenever I see the -different effect which scenes, circumstances, and events produce upon -different characters. It is shown by the poet that the cup of divine -wine gave life and immortality, and excellence superhuman, and bliss -beyond belief, to the pure heart; but to the lark, earthly, and evil, -brought death, destruction, and despair. We may extend the lesson a -little, and see in the Amreeta wine, the spirit of God pervading all -his works, but producing in those who see and taste an effect, for -good or evil, according to the nature of the recipient. The strong, -powerful, self-willed, passionate character of Mrs. Hazleton, found, -in the calm meditative fall of the cataract, in the ever shifting play -of the wild waters, and in the watchful stillness of the air around, a -softening, enfeebling influence. The gentle character of Emily turned -from the scene with a heart raised rather than depressed, a spirit -better prepared to combat with evil and with sorrow, full of love and -trust in God, and a confidence strong beyond the strength of this -world. There is a voice of prophecy in waterfalls, and mountains, and -lakes, and streams, and sunny lands, and clouds, and storms, and -bright sunsets, and the face of nature every where, which tells the -destiny, not of one, but of many, and at all events, foreshows the -unutterable mercy reserved for those who trust. It is a prophecy--and -an exhortation too. The words are, "Be holy, and be happy!" The God -who speaks is true and glorious. Be true and inherit glory.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily had been cheerful as they went. As they returned she was calm -and firm. Readily she joined in any conversation. Seldom did she fall -into any absent fit of thought, and the effect of that day's drive was -any thing but what Mrs. Hazleton expected or wished.</p> - -<p class="normal">When they returned to the house, a letter was delivered to Emily -Hastings, with which, the seal unbroken, she retired to her own room. -The hand was unknown to her, but with a sort of prescience something -more than natural, she divined at once from whom it came, and saw that -the difficult struggle had commenced. An hour or two before, the very -thought would have dismayed her. Now the effect was but small.</p> - -<p class="normal">She had no suspicion of the plans against her; no idea whatever that -people might be using her as a tool--that there was any interest -contrary to her own, in the conduct or management of others. But yet -she turned the key in the door before she commenced the perusal of the -letter, which was to the following effect:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not," said the writer, in a happier style than perhaps might -have been expected, "how to prevail upon your goodness to pardon all I -am going to say, knowing that nothing short of the circumstances in -which I am placed, could excuse my approaching you even in thought. I -have long known you, though you have known me only for a few short -hours. I have watched you often from childhood up to womanhood, and -there has been growing upon me from very early years a strong -attachment, a deep affection, a powerful--overpowering--ardent love, -which nothing can ever extinguish. Need I tell you that the last few -days would have increased that love had increase been possible.</p> - -<p class="normal">"All this, however, I know is no justification of my venturing to -raise my thoughts to you--still less of my venturing to express these -feelings boldly; but it has been an excuse to myself, and in some -degree to others, for abstaining hitherto from that which my best -interests, a mother's fame, and my own rights, required. The time has -now come when I can no longer remain silent; when I must throw upon -you the responsibility of an important choice; when I am forced to -tell you how deeply, how devotedly, I love you, in order that you may -say whether you will take the only means of saving me from the most -painful task I ever undertook, by conferring on me the greatest -blessing that woman ever gave to man; or, on the other hand, will -drive me to a task repugnant to all my feelings, but just, necessary, -inevitable, in case of your refusal. Let me explain, however, that I -am your cousin--the son of your father's elder brother by a private -marriage with a peasant girl of this county. The whole case is -perfectly clear, and I have proof positive of the marriage in my -hands. From fear of a lawsuit, and from the pressure of great poverty, -my mother was induced to sacrifice her rights after her husband's -early death, still to conceal her marriage, to bear even sneers and -shame, and to live upon a pittance allowed to her by her husband's -father, and secured to her by him after his own death, when she was -entitled to honor, and birth, and distinction by the law of the land.</p> - -<p class="normal">"One of her objects, doubtless, was to secure to herself and her son a -moderate competence, as the late Sir John Hastings, my grandfather and -yours, had the power of leaving all his estates to any one he pleased, -the entail having ended with himself. For this she sacrificed her -rights, her name, her fame, and you will find, if you look into your -grandfather's will, that he took especial care that no infraction of -the contract between him and her father should give cause for the -assertion of her rights. Two or three mysterious clauses in that will -will show you at once, if you read them, that the whole tale I tell -you is correct, and that Sir John Hastings, on the one hand, paid -largely, and on the other threatened sternly, in order to conceal the -marriage of his eldest son, and transmit the title to the second. But -my mother could not bar me of my rights: she could endure unmerited -shame for pecuniary advantages, if she pleased; but she could not -entail shame upon me; and were it in the power of any one to deprive -me of that which Sir John Hastings left me, or to shut me out from the -succession to his whole estates, to which--from the fear of disclosing -his great secret--he did not put any bar in his will that would have -been at once an acknowledgment of my legitimacy, I would still -sacrifice all, and stand alone, friendless and portionless in the -world, rather than leave my mother's fame and my own birth -unvindicated. This is one of the strongest desires, the most -overpowering impulses of my heart; and neither you nor any one could -expect me to resist it. But there is yet a stronger still--not an -impulse, but a passion, and to that every thing must yield. It is -love; and whatever may be the difference which you see between -yourself and me, however inferior I may feel myself to you in all -those qualities which I myself the most admire, still, I feel myself -justified in placing the case clearly before you--in telling you how -truly, how sincerely, how ardently I love you, and in asking you -whether you will deign to favor my suit even now as I stand, to save -me the pain and grief of contending with the father of her I love, the -anguish of stripping him of the property he so well uses, and of the -rank which he adorns; or will leave me to establish my rights, to take -my just name and station, and then, when no longer appearing humble -and unknown, to plead my cause with no less humility than I do at -present.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I shall do so then, as now, rest assured--that I would do so if -the rank and station to which I have a right were a principality, do -not doubt; but I would fain, if it were possible, avoid inflicting any -pain upon your father. I know not how he may bear the loss of station -and of fortune--I know not what effect the struggles of a court of -law, and inevitable defeat may produce. Only acquainted with him by -general repute, I cannot tell what may be the effect of mortification -and the loss of all he has hitherto enjoyed. He has the reputation of -a good, a just, and a wise man, somewhat vehement in feeling, somewhat -proud of his position. You must judge him, rather than I; but, I -beseech you, consider him in this matter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"At any time, and at all times, my love will be the same--nothing can -change me--nothing can alter or affect the deep love I bear you. When -casting from me the cloud which had hung upon my birth, when assuming -the rank and taking possession of the property that is my own, I shall -still love you as devotedly as ever--still as earnestly seek your -hand. But oh! how I long to avoid all the pangs, the mischances, the -anxieties to every one, the ill feeling, the contention, the -animosity, which must ever follow such a struggle as that between your -father and myself--oh, how I long to owe every thing to you, even the -station, even the property, even the fair name that is my own by right -Nay, more, far more, to owe you guidance and direction--to owe you -support and instruction--to owe you all that may improve, and purify, -and elevate me.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, Emily, dear cousin, let me be your debtor in all things. You who -first gave me the thought of rising above fate, and making myself -worthy of the high fortunes which I have long known awaited me, -perfect your work, redeem me for ever from all that is unworthy, save -me from bitter regrets, and your father from disappointment, sorrow, -and poverty, and render me all that I long to be.</p> - -<p style="text-indent:50%">"Yours, and forever,</p> - -<p style="text-indent:55%">"<span class="sc">John Hastings.</span>"</p> -<br> - - -<p class="normal">Very well done, Mrs. Hazleton!--but somewhat too well done. There was -a difference, a difference so striking, so unaccountable, between the -style of this letter, both in thought and composition, and the -ordinary style and manners of John Ayliffe, that it could not fail to -strike the eyes of Emily. For a moment she felt a little confused--not -undecided. There was no hesitation, no doubt, as to her own conduct. -For an instant it crossed her mind that this young man had deeper, -finer feelings in his nature than appeared upon the surface--that his -manner might be more in fault than his nature. But there were things -in the letter itself which she did not like--that, without any labored -analysis or deep-searching criticism, brought to her mind the -conviction that the words, the arguments, the inducements employed -were those of art rather than of feeling--that the mingling of threats -towards her father, however veiled, with professions of love towards -herself, was in itself ungenerous--that the objects and the means were -not so high-toned as the professions--that there was something sordid, -base, ignoble in the whole proceeding. It required no careful thought -to arrive at such a conclusion--no second reading--and her mind was -made up at once.</p> - -<p class="normal">The deep reverie into which she had fallen in the morning had done her -good--it had disentangled thought, and left the heart and judgment -clear. The fair, natural scene she had passed through since, the -intercourse with God's works, had done her still more good--refreshed, -and strengthened, and elevated the spirit; and after a very brief -pause she drew the table towards her, sat down, and wrote. As she did -write, she thought of her father, and she believed from her heart that -the words she used were those which he would wish her to employ. They -were to the following effect:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir: Your letter, as you may suppose, has occasioned me great pain, -and the more so, as I am compelled to say, not only that I cannot -return your affection now, but can hold out no hope to you of ever -returning it. I am obliged to speak decidedly, as I should consider -myself most base if I could for one moment trifle with feelings such -as those which you express.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In regard to your claims upon my father's estates, and to the rank -which he believes himself to hold by just right, I can form no -judgment; and could have wished that they had never been mentioned to -me before they had been made known to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I never in my life knew my father do an unjust or ungenerous thing, -and I am quite sure that if convinced another had a just title to all -that he possesses on earth, he would strip himself of it as readily as -he would of a soiled garment. My father would disdain to hold for an -hour the rightful property of another. You have therefore only to lay -your reasons before him, and you may be sure that they will have just -consideration and yourself full justice. I trust that you will do so -soon, as to give the first intelligence of such claims would be too -painful a task for</p> - -<p style="text-indent:50%">"Your faithful servant,</p> - -<p style="text-indent:55%">"<span class="sc">Emily Hastings.</span>"</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">She read her letter over twice, and was satisfied with it. Sealing it -carefully, she gave it to her own maid for despatch, and then paused -for a moment, giving way to some temporary curiosity as to who could -have aided in the composition of the letter she had received, for John -Ayliffe's alone she could not and would not believe it to be. She cast -such thoughts from her very speedily, however, and, strange to say, -her heart seemed lightened now that the moment of trial had come and -gone, now that a turning-point in her fate seemed to have passed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton was surprised to see her re-enter the drawing-room with -a look of relief. She saw that the matter was decided, but she was too -wise to conclude that it was decided according to her wishes.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Marlow reasoned with his own heart. For the first time in his -life it -had proved rebellious. It would have its own way. It would give no -account of its conduct,--why it had beat so, why it had thrilled so, -why it had experienced so many changes of feeling when he saw John -Ayliffe sitting beside Emily Hastings, and when Emily Hastings had -risen with so joyous a smile to greet him--it would not explain at -all. And now he argued the point with it systematically, with a -determination to get to the bottom of the matter one way or another. -He asked it, as if it had been a separate individual, if it was in -love with Emily Hastings. The question was too direct, and the heart -said it "rather thought not."</p> - -<p class="normal">Was it quite sure? he asked again. The heart was silent, and seemed to -be considering. Was it jealous? he inquired. "Oh dear no, not in the -least."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then why did it go on in such a strange, capricious, unaccountable -way, when a good-looking, vulgar young man was seen sitting beside -Emily?</p> - -<p class="normal">The heart said it "could not tell; that it was its nature to do so."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow was not to be put off. He was determined to know more, and he -argued, "If it be your nature to do so, you of course do the same when -you see other young men sitting by other young women." The heart was -puzzled, and did not reply; and then Marlow begged a definite answer -to this question. "If you were to hear to-morrow that Emily Hastings -is going to be married to this youth, or to any other man, young or -old, what would you do then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Break!" said the heart, and Marlow asked no more questions. Knowing -how dangerous it is to enter into such interrogations on horseback, -when the pulse is accelerated and the nervous system all in a flutter, -he had waited till he got into his own dwelling, and seated himself in -his chair, that he might deal with the rebellious spirit in his breast -stately, and calmly likewise; but as he came to the end of the -conversation, he rose up, resolving to order a fresh horse, and ride -instantly away, to confer with Sir Philip Hastings. In so doing he -looked round the room. It was not very well or very fully furnished. -The last proprietor before Mrs. Hazleton had not been very fond of -books, and had never thought of a library. When Marlow brought his own -books down he had ordered some cases to be made by a country -carpenter, which fitted but did not much ornament the room. They gave -it a raw, desolate aspect, and made him, by a natural projection of -thought, think ill of the accommodation of the whole house, as soon as -he began to entertain the idea of Emily Hastings ever becoming its -mistress. Then he went on to ask himself, "What have I to offer for -the treasure of her hand? What have I to offer but the hand of a very -simple, undistinguished country gentleman--quite, quite unworthy of -her? What have I to offer Sir Philip Hastings as an alliance worthy of -even his consideration?--A good, unstained name; but no rank, and a -fortune not above mediocrity. Marry! a fitting match for the heiress -of the Hastings and Marshall families."</p> - -<p class="normal">He gazed around him, and his heart fell.</p> - -<p class="normal">A little boy, with a pair of wings on his shoulders, and the end of a -bow peeping up near his neck, stood close behind Marlow, and whispered -in his ear, "Never mind all that--only try."</p> - -<p class="normal">And Marlow resolved he would try; but yet he hesitated how to do so. -Should he go himself to Sir Philip? But he feared a rebuff. Should he -write? No, that was cowardly. Should he tell his love to Emily first, -and strive to win her affections, ere he breathed to her father? No, -that would be dishonest, if he had a doubt of her father's consent. At -length he made up his mind to go in person to Sir Philip, but the -discussion and the consideration had been so long that it was too late -to ride over that night, and the journey was put off till the -following day. That day, as early as possible, he set out. He called -it as early as possible, and it was early for a visit; but the moment -one fears a rebuff from any lady one grows marvellously punctilious. -When his horse was brought round he began to fancy that he should be -too soon for Sir Philip, and he had the horse walked up and down for -half an hour.</p> - -<p class="normal">What would he have given for that half hour, when, on reaching Sir -Philip's door, he found that Emily's father had gone out, and was not -expected back till late in the day. Angry with himself, and a good -deal disappointed, he returned to his home, which, somehow, looked far -less cheerful than usual. He could take no pleasure in his books, or -in his pictures, and even thought was unpleasant to him, for under the -influence of expectation it became but a calculation of chances, for -which he had but scanty data. One thing, indeed, he learned from the -passing of that evening, which was, that home and home happiness was -lost to him henceforth without Emily Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">The following day saw him early in the saddle, and riding away as if -some beast of the chase were before him. Indeed, man's love, when it -is worth any thing, has always a smack of the hunter in it. He cared -not for highlands or bypaths--hedges and ditches offered small -impediments. Straight across the country he went, till he approached -the end of his journey; but then he suddenly pulled in his rein, and -began to ask himself if he was a madman. He was passing over the -Marshall property at the time, the inheritance of Emily's mother, and -the thought of all that she was heir to cooled his ardor with doubt -and apprehension. He would have given one half of all that he -possessed that she had been a peasant-girl, that he might have lived -with her upon the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he began to think of all that he should say to Sir Philip -Hastings, and how he should say it; and he felt very uneasy in his -mind. Then he was angry with himself for his own sensations, and tried -philosophy and scolded his own heart. But philosophy and scolding had -no effect; and then cantering easily through the park, he stopped at -the gate of the house and dismounted.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip was in this time; and Marlow was ushered into the little -room where he sat in the morning, with the library hard by, that he -might have his books at hand. But Sir Philip was not reading now; on -the contrary, he was in a fit of thought; and, if one might judge by -the contraction of his brow, and the drawing down of the corners of -his lips, it was not a very pleasant one.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow fancied that he had come at an inauspicious moment, and the -first words of Sir Philip, though kind and friendly, were not at all -harmonious with the feeling of love in his young visitor's heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Welcome, my young friend," he said, looking up. "I have been thinking -this morning over the laws and habits of different nations, ancient -and modern; and would fain satisfy myself if I am right in the -conclusion that we, in this land, leave too little free action to -individual judgment. No man, we say, must take law in his own hands; -yet how often do we break this rule--how often are we compelled to -break it. If you, with a gun in your hand, saw a man at fifty or sixty -paces about to murder a child or a woman, without any means of -stopping the blow except by using your weapon, what would you do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Shoot him on the spot," replied Marlow at once, and then added, "if I -were quite certain of his intention."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course--of course," replied Sir Philip. "And yet, my good friend, -if you did so, without witnesses---supposing the child too young to -testify, or the woman sleeping at whom the blow was aimed--you would -be hung for your just, wise, charitable act."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps so," said Marlow, abruptly; "but I would do it, -nevertheless."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Right, right," replied Sir Philip, rising and shaking his hand; -"right, and like yourself! There are cases when, with a clear -consciousness of the rectitude of our purpose, and a strong confidence -in the justice of our judgment, we must step over all human laws, be -the result to ourselves what it may. Do you remember a man--one -Cutter--to whom you taught a severe lesson on the very first day I had -the pleasure of knowing you? I should have been undoubtedly justified, -morally, and perhaps even legally also, in sending my sword through -his body, when he attacked me that day. Had I done so I should have -saved a valuable human life, spared the world the spectacle of a great -crime, and preserved an excellent husband and father to his wife and -children. That very man has murdered the game-keeper of the Earl of -Selby; and being called to the spot yesterday, I had to commit him for -that crime, upon evidence which left not a doubt of his guilt. I -spared him when he assaulted me from a weak and unworthy feeling of -compassion, although I knew the man's character, and dimly foresaw his -career. I have regretted it since; but never so much as yesterday. -This, of course, is no parallel case to that which I just now -proposed; but the one led my mind to the other."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did the wretched man admit his guilt?" asked Marlow.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He did not, and could not deny it," answered Sir Philip; "during the -examination he maintained a hard, sullen silence; and only said, when -I ordered his committal, that I ought not to be so hard upon him for -that offence, as it was the best service he could have done me; for -that he had silenced a man whose word could strip me of all I -possessed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What could he mean?" asked Marlow, eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I know not," replied Sir Philip, in an indifferent tone; -"crushed vipers often turn to bite. The man he killed was the son of -the former sexton here--an honest, good creature too, for whom I -obtained his place; his murderer a reckless villain, on whose word -there is no dependence. Let us give no thought to it. He has held some -such language before; but it never produced a fear that my property -would be lost, or even diminished. We do not hold our fee simples on -the tenure of a rogue's good pleasure--why do you smile?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For what will seem at first sight a strange, unnatural reason for a -friend to give, Sir Philip," replied Marlow, determined not to lose -the opportunity; "for your own sake and for your country's, I am bound -to hope that your property may never be lost or diminished; but every -selfish feeling would induce me to wish it were less than it is."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings was no reader of riddles, and he looked puzzled; -but Marlow walked frankly round and took him by the hand, saying, "I -have not judged it right, Sir Philip, to remain one day after I -discovered what are my feelings towards your daughter, without -informing you fully of their nature, that you may at once decide upon -your future demeanor towards one to whom you have hitherto shown much -kindness, and who would on no account abuse it. I was not at all aware -of how this passion had grown upon me, till the day before yesterday, -when I saw your daughter at Mrs. Hazleton's, and some accidental -circumstance revealed to me the state of my own heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip looked as if surprised; but after a moment's thought, he -inquired, "And what says Emily, my young friend?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She says nothing, Sir Philip," replied Marlow; "for neither by word -nor look, as far as I know, have I betrayed my own feelings towards -her. I would not, between us, do so, till I had given you an -opportunity of deciding, unfettered by any consideration for her, -whether you would permit me to pursue my suit or not."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip was in a reasoning mood that day, and he tortured Marlow by -asking, "And would you always think it necessary, Marlow, to obtain a -parent's consent, before you endeavored to gain the affection of a -girl you loved?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not always," replied the young man; "but I should think it always -necessary to violate no confidence, Sir Philip. You have been kind to -me--trusted me--had no doubt of me; and to say one word to Emily which -might thwart your plans or meet your disapproval, would be to show -myself unworthy of your esteem or her affection."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip mused, and then said, as if speaking to himself, "I had -some idea this might turn out so, but not so soon. I fancy, however," -he continued, addressing Marlow, "that you must have betrayed your -feelings more than you thought, my young friend; for yesterday I found -Emily in a strange, thoughtful, abstracted mood, showing that some -strong feelings were busy at her heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Some other cause," said Marlow quickly; "I cannot even flatter myself -that she was thinking of me. When I saw her the day before, there was -a young man sitting with her and Mrs. Hazleton--John Ayliffe, I think, -is his name--and I will own I thought his presence seemed to annoy -her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"John Ayliffe at Mrs. Hazleton's!" exclaimed Sir Philip, his brow -growing very dark; "John Ayliffe in my daughter's society! Well might -the poor child look thoughtful--and yet why should she? She knows -nothing of his history. What is he like, Marlow--how does he bear -himself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is certainly handsome, with fine features and a good figure," -replied Marlow; "indeed, it struck me that there was some resemblance -between him and yourself; but there is a want I cannot well define in -his appearance, Sir Philip--in his air--in his carriage, whether still -or in motion, which fixes upon him what I am accustomed to call a -class-mark, and that not of the best. Depend upon it, however, that it -was annoyance at being brought into society which she disliked that -affected your daughter as you have mentioned. My love for her she is, -and must be, ignorant of; for I stayed there but a few minutes; and -before that day, I saw it not myself. And now, Sir Philip, what say -you to my suit? May I--as some of your words lead me to hope--may I -pursue that suit and strive to win your dear daughter's love?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course," replied Sir Philip, "of course. A vague fancy has long -been floating in my brain, that it might be so some day. She is too -young to marry yet; and it will be sad to part with her when the time -does come; but you have my consent to seek her affection if she can -give it you. She must herself decide."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you considered fully," asked Marlow, "that I have neither -fortune nor rank to offer her, that I am by no means--"</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip waved his hand almost impatiently. "What skills it talking -of rank or wealth?" he said. "You are a gentleman by birth, education, -manners. You have easy competence. My Emily will desire no more for -herself, and I can desire no more for her. You will endeavor, I know, -to make her happy, and will succeed, because you love her. As for -myself, were I to choose out of all the men I know, you would be the -man. Fortune is a good adjunct; but it is no essential. I do not -promise her to you. That she must do; but if she says she will give -you her hand, it shall be yours."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow thanked him, with joy such as may be conceived; but Sir -Philip's thoughts reverted at once to his daughter's situation at Mrs. -Hazleton's. "She must stay there no longer, Marlow," he said; "I will -send for her home without delay. Then you will have plenty of -opportunity for the telling of your own tale to her ear, and seeing -how you may speed with her; but, at all events, she must stay no -longer in a house where she can meet with John Ayliffe. Mrs. Hazleton -makes me marvel--a woman so proud--so refined!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is but justice to say," replied Marlow, thoughtfully, "that I have -some vague recollection of Mrs. Hazleton having intimated that they -met that young gentleman by chance upon some expedition of pleasure. -But had I not better communicate my hopes and wishes to Lady Hastings, -my dear sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is not needful," replied Emily's father, somewhat sternly; "I -promise her to you, if she herself consents. My good wife will not -oppose my wishes or my daughter's happiness; for do I suffer -opposition upon occasions of importance. I will tell Lady Hastings my -determination myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow was too wise to say another word, but agreed to come on the -following day to dine and sleep at the hall, and took his leave for -the time. It was not, indeed, without some satisfaction that he heard -Sir Philip order a horse to be saddled and a man to prepare to carry a -letter to Mrs. Hazleton; for doubts were rapidly possessing themselves -of his mind--not in regard to Emily--but in reference to Mrs. Hazleton -herself.</p> - -<p class="normal">The letter was dispatched immediately after his departure, recalling -Emily to her father's house, and announcing that the carriage would be -sent for her early on the following morning. That done, Sir Philip -repaired to his wife's drawing-room, and informed her that he had -given his consent to his young friend Marlow's suit to their daughter. -His tone was one that admitted no reply, and Lady Hastings made none; -but she entered her protest quite as well, by falling into a violent -fit of hysterics.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">In a very gaudily furnished parlor, and in a very gaudy dress, -sat a -lady of some eight or nine and thirty years of age, with many traces -of beauty still to be perceived in a face of no very intellectual -expression. Few persons perhaps would have recognized in her the fair -and faulty girl whom we have depicted weeping bitterly over the fate -of Sir Philip Hastings' elder brother, and over the terrible situation -in which he left her. Her features had much changed: the girlish -expression--the fresh bloom of youth was gone. The light graceful -figure was lost; but the mind had changed as greatly as the person, -though, like it, the heart yet retained some traces of the original. -When first she appeared before the reader's eyes, though weak and -yielding, she was by no means ill disposed. She had committed an -error--a great and fatal one; but at heart she was innocent and -honest. She was, however, like all weak people, of that plastic clay -moulded easily by circumstances into any form; and, in her, -circumstances had shaped her gradually into a much worse form than -nature had originally given her. To defraud, to cheat, to wrong, had -at one time been most abhorrent to her nature. She had taken no active -part in her father's dealings with old Sir John Hastings, and had she -known all that he had said and sworn, would have shrunk with horror -from the deceit. But during her father's short life, she had been -often told by himself, and after his death had been often assured by -the old woman Denby, that she was rightly and truly the widow of John -Hastings, although because it would be difficult to prove, her father -had consented to take an annuity for himself and her son, rather than -enter into a lawsuit with a powerful man; and she had gradually -brought herself to believe that she had been her lover's wife, because -in one of his ardent letters he had called her so to stifle the voice -of remorse in her bosom. The conviction had grown upon her, till now, -after a lapse of more than twenty years, she had forgotten all her -former doubts and scruples, believed herself and her son to be injured -and deprived of their just rights, and was ready to assert her -marriage boldly, though she had at one time felt and acknowledged that -there was no marriage at all, and that the words her seducer had used -were but intended to soothe her regret and terror. There was a point -however beyond which she was not prepared to go. She still shrunk from -giving false details, from perjuring herself in regard to particular -facts. The marriage, she thought, might be good in the sight of -heaven, of herself, and of her lover; but to render it good in the -eyes of the law, she had found would require proofs that she could not -give--oaths that she dared not take.</p> - -<p class="normal">Another course, however, had been proposed for her; and now she sat in -that small parlor gaudily dressed, as I have said, but dressed -evidently for a journey. There were tears indeed in her eyes; and as -her son stood by her side she looked up in his face with a beseeching -look as if she would fain have said, "Pray do not drive me to this!"</p> - -<p class="normal">But young John Ayliffe had no remorse, and if he spoke tenderly to her -who had spoiled his youth, it was only because his object was to -persuade and cajole.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, mother," he said, "it is absolutely necessary or I would not -ask you to go. You know quite well that I would rather have you here: -and it will only be for a short time till the trial is over. Lawyer -Shanks told you himself that if you stayed, they would have you into -court and cross-examine you to death; and you know quite well you -could not keep in one story if they browbeat and puzzled you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would say any where that my marriage was a good one," replied his -mother, "but I could not swear all that Shanks would have had me, -John--No, I could not swear that, for Dr. Paulding had nothing to do -with it, and if he were to repeat it all over to me a thousand times, -I am sure that I should make a blunder, even if I consented to tell -such a falsehood. My father and good Mrs. Danby used always to say -that the mutual consent made a marriage, and a good one too. Now your -father's own letter shows that he consented to it, and God knows I -did. But these lawyers will not let well alone, and by trying to mend -things make them worse, I think. However, I suppose you have gone too -far to go back; and so I must go to a strange out of the way country -and hide myself and live quite lonely. Well, I am ready--I am ready to -make any sacrifice for you, my boy--though it is very hard, I must -say."</p> - -<p class="normal">As she spoke, she rose with her eyes running over, and her son kissed -her and assured her that her absence should not be long. But just as -she was moving towards the door, he put a paper--a somewhat long -one--on the table, where a pen was already in the inkstand, saying, -"just sign this before you go, dear mother."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I cannot sign any thing," cried the lady, wiping her eyes; "how -can you be so cruel, John, as to ask me to sign any thing just now -when I am parting with you? What is it you want?</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is only a declaration that you are truly my father's widow," said -John Ayliffe; "see here, the declaration, &c., you need not read it, -but only just sign here."</p> - -<p class="normal">She hesitated an instant; but his power over her was complete; and, -though, she much doubted the contents, she signed the paper with a -trembling hand. Then came a parting full of real tenderness on her -part, and assumed affection and regret on his. The post-chaise, which -had been standing for an hour at the door, rolled away, and John -Ayliffe walked back into the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">When there, he walked up and down the room for some time, with an -impatient thoughtfulness, if I may use the term, in his looks, which -had little to do with his mother's departure. He was glad that she was -gone--still gladder that she had signed the paper; and now he seemed -waiting for something eagerly expected.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length there came a sound of a quick trotting horse, and John -Ayliffe took the paper from the table hastily, and put it in his -pocket But the visitor was not the one he expected. It was but a -servant with a letter; and as the young man took it from the hand of -the maid who brought it in, and gazed at the address, his cheek -flushed a little, and then turned somewhat pale. He muttered to -himself, "she has not taken long to consider!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as the slipshod girl had gone out of the room, he broke the -seal and read the brief answer which Emily had returned to his -declaration.</p> - -<p class="normal">It would not be easy for an artist to paint, and it is impossible for -a writer to describe, the expression which came upon his face as he -perused the words of decided rejection which were written on that -sheet; but certainly, had poor Emily heard how he cursed her, how he -vowed to have revenge, and to humble her pride, as he called it, she -would have rejoiced rather than grieved that such a man had obtained -no hold upon her affection, no command of her fate. He was still in -the midst of his tempest of passion, when, without John Ayliffe being -prepared for his appearance, Mr. Shanks entered the room. His face -wore a dark and somewhat anxious expression which even habitual -cunning could not banish; but the state in which he found his young -client, seemed to take him quite by surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why what is the matter, John?" he cried, "What in the name of fortune -has happened here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What has happened!" exclaimed John Ayliffe, "look there," and he -handed Mr. Shanks the letter. The attorney took it, and with his keen -weazel eyes read it as deliberately as he would have read an ordinary -law paper. He then handed it back to his young client, saying, "The -respondent does not put in a bad answer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Damn the respondent," said John Ayliffe, "but she shall smart for -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, this cannot be helped," rejoined Mr. Shanks; "no need of -putting yourself in a passion. You don't care two straws about her, -and if you get the property without the girl so much the better. You -can then have the pick of all the pretty women in the country."</p> - -<p class="normal">John Ayliffe mused gloomily; for Mr. Shanks was not altogether right -in his conclusion as to the young man's feelings towards Emily. -Perhaps when he began the pursuit he cared little about its success, -but like other beasts of prey, he had become eager as he ran--desire -had arisen in the chase--and, though mortified vanity had the greatest -share in his actual feelings, he felt something beyond that.</p> - -<p class="normal">While he mused, Mr. Shanks was musing also, calculating results -and combinations; but at length he said, in a low tone, "Is she -gone?--Have you got that accomplished?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gone?--Yes.--Do you mean my mother?--Damn it, yes!--She is gone, to -be sure.--Didn't you meet her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," said Mr. Shanks; "I came the other way. That is lucky, however. -But harkee, John--something very unpleasant has happened, and we must -take some steps about it directly; for if they work him well, that -fellow is likely to peach."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who?--what the devil are you talking about?" asked John Ayliffe, with -his passion still unsubdued.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, that blackguard whom you would employ--Master Tom Cutter," -answered Mr. Shanks. "You know I always set my face against it, John; -and now--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Peach!" cried John Ayliffe, "Tom Cutter will no more peach than he'll -fly in the air. He's not of the peaching sort."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps not, where a few months' imprisonment are concerned," -answered Mr. Shanks; "but the matter here is his neck, and that makes -a mighty difference, let me tell you. Now listen to me, John, and -don't interrupt me till I've done; for be sure that we have got into a -very unpleasant mess, which we may have some difficulty in getting out -of. You sent over Tom Cutter, to see if he could not persuade young -Scantling, Lord Selby's gamekeeper, to remember something about the -marriage, when he was with his old father the sexton. Now, how he and -Tom manage their matters, I don't know; but Tom gave him a lick on the -head with a stick, which killed him on the spot. As the devil would -have it, all this was seen by two people, a laborer working in a ditch -hard by, and Scantling's son, a boy of ten years old. The end of it -is, Tom was instantly pursued, and apprehended; your good uncle, Sir -John, was called to take the depositions, and without any remand -whatever, committed our good friend for trial. Tom's only chance is to -prove that it was a case of chance-medley, or to bring it under -manslaughter, as a thing done in a passion, and if he thinks that -being employed by you will be any defence, or will show that it was a -sudden burst of rage, without premeditation, he will tell the whole -story as soon as he would eat his dinner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'll go over to him directly, and tell him to hold his tongue," cried -John Ayliffe, now fully awakened to the perils of the case.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pooh, pooh! don't be a fool," said Mr. Shanks, contemptuously. "Are -you going to let the man see that you are afraid of him--that he has -got you in his power? Besides, they will not let you in. No, the way -must be this. I must go over to him as his legal adviser, and I can -dress you up as my clerk. That will please him, to find that we do not -abandon him; and we must contrive to turn his defence quite another -way, whether he hang for it or not. We must make it out that Scantling -swore he had been poaching, when he had done nothing of the kind, and -that in the quarrel that followed, he struck the blow accidentally. We -can persuade him that this is his best defence, which perhaps it is -after all, for nobody can prove that he was poaching, inasmuch as he -really was not; whereas, if he were to show that he killed a man while -attempting to suborn evidence, he would speedily find himself under a -crossbeam."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Suborn evidence," muttered John Ayliffe to himself; for though ready -to do any act that might advance his purpose, he did not like to hear -it called by its right name.</p> - -<p class="normal">However that might be, he agreed to the course proposed by the -attorney, and it was determined that, waiting for the fall of night, -they should both go over to the prison together, and demand admittance -to the felon's cell. The conversation then reverted to Emily's -distinct rejection of the young man's suit, and long did the two -ponder over it, considering what might be the effect upon the plans -they were pursuing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may hurry us desperately," said Mr. Shanks, at length, "unless we -can get her to hold her tongue; for depend upon it, as soon as Sir -Philip hears what we are doing, he will take his measures accordingly. -Don't you think you and Mrs. Hazleton together can manage to frighten -her into silence? If I were you, I would get upon my horse's back -directly, ride over, and see what can be done. Your fair friend there -will give you every help, depend upon it."</p> - -<p class="normal">John Ayliffe smiled. "I will see," he said. "Mrs. Hazleton is very -kind about it, and I dare say will help, for I am quite sure she has -got some purpose of her own to serve."</p> - -<p class="normal">The attorney grinned, but made no answer, and in the space of a -quarter of an hour, John Ayliffe was on the road to Mrs. Hazleton's -dwelling.</p> - -<p class="normal">After quarter of an hour's private conversation with the lady of the -house, he was admitted to the room in which Emily sat, unconscious of -his being there. She was displeased and alarmed at seeing him, but his -words and his conduct after he entered, frightened and displeased her -still more. He demanded secrecy in a stern and peremptory tone, and -threatened with vague, but not ill-devised menaces, to be the ruin of -her father and his whole house, if she breathed one word of what had -taken place between them. He sought, moreover, to obtain from her a -promise of secrecy; but that Emily would on no account give, although -he terrified her greatly; and he left her still in doubt as to whether -his secret was safe or not.</p> - -<p class="normal">With Mrs. Hazleton he held another conference, but from her he -received better assurances. "Do not be afraid," she said; "I will -manage it for you. She shall not betray you--at least for a time. -However, you had better proceed as rapidly as possible, and if the -means of pursuing your claim be necessary--I mean in point of -money--have no scruple in applying to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Putting on an air of queenly dignity, Mrs. Hazleton proceeded in -search of Emily, as soon as the young man was gone. She found her in -tears; and sitting down by her side, she took her hand in a kindly -manner, saying, "My dear child, I am very sorry for all this, but it -is really in some degree your own fault. Nay, you need not explain any -thing. I have just had young Ayliffe with me. He has told me all, and -I have dismissed him with a sharp rebuke. If you had confided to me -last night that he had proposed to you, and you had rejected him, I -would have taken care that he should not have admittance to you. -Indeed, I am surprised that he should presume to propose at all, -without longer acquaintance. But he seems to have agitated and -terrified you much. What did he want?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He endeavored to make me promise," replied Emily, "that I would not -tell my father, or any one, of what had occurred."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Foolish boy! he might have taken that for granted," replied Mrs. -Hazleton, forgetting for an instant what she had just said. "No woman -of any delicacy ever speaks of a matter of this kind, when once she -has taken upon herself to reject a proposal unconditionally. If she -wishes for advice," continued the lady, recollecting herself, "or -thinks that the suit may be pressed improperly, of course she's free -to ask counsel and assistance of some female friend, on whom she can -depend. But the moment the thing is decided, of course, she is silent -for ever; for nothing can be more a matter of honorable confidence -than an avowal of honorable love. I will write him a note, and tell -him he is in no danger, but warn him not to present himself here -again, so long as you are with me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily made no answer, trying to decide in her own mind whether Mrs. -Hazleton's reasoning was right; and that lady, choosing to take her -assent for granted, from her silence, hurried away, to give her no -opportunity for retracting.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Before the door of a large brick building, with no windows -towards the -street, and tall walls rising up till they overtopped the neighboring -houses, stood two men, about an hour after night had fallen, waiting -for admittance. The great large iron bar which formed the knocker of -the door, had descended twice with a heavy thump, but yet no one -appeared in answer to the summons. It was again in the hand of Mr. -Shanks and ready to descend, when the rattling of keys was heard -inside; bolts were withdrawn and bars cast down, and one half of the -door opened, displaying a man with a lantern, which he held up to gaze -at his visitors. His face was fat and bloated, covered with a good -number of spots, and his swollen eyelids made his little keen black -eyes look smaller than they even naturally were, while his nose, much -in the shape of a horse-chestnut, blushed with the hues of the early -morning.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How are you, Cram, how are you?" asked the attorney. "I haven't been -here for a long time, but you know me, I suppose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes, I know you, Master Shanks," replied the jailer, winking one -of his small black eyes; "who have you come to see? Betty Diaper, I'll -warrant, who prigged the gentleman's purse at the bottom of the hill. -She's as slink a diver as any on the lay; but she's got the shiners -and so must have counsel to defend her before the beak, I'll bet a -gallon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," answered Mr. Shanks, "our old friend Tom Cutter wants to see -me on this little affair of his."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You'll make no hand of that, as sure a my name's Dionysius Cram," -replied the jailer. "Can't prove an _alibi_ there, Master Shanks, for -I saw him do the job; besides he can't pay. What's the use of meddling -with him? He must swing some time you know, and one day's as good as -another. But come in, Master Shanks, come in. But who's this here -other chap?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That's my clerk," replied Mr. Shanks, "I may want him to take -instructions."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man laughed, but demurred, but a crown piece was in those days the -key to all jailers' hearts, and after a show of hesitation, Shanks and -his young companion were both admitted within the gates. They now -found themselves in a small square space, guarded on two sides by tall -iron railings, which bent overhead, and were let into the wall -somewhat after the manner of a birdcage. On the left-hand side, -however, was another brick wall, with a door and some steps leading up -to it. By this entrance Mr. Dionysius Cram led them into a small -jailer's lodge, with a table and some wooden chairs, in the side of -which, opposite to the entrance, was a strong movable grate, between -the bars of which might be seen a yawning sort of chasm leading into -the heart of the prison.</p> - -<p class="normal">Again Mr. Cram's great keys were put in motion, and he opened the -grate to let them pass, eyeing John Ayliffe with considerable -attention as he did so. Locking the grate carefully behind him, he -lighted them on with his lantern, muttering as he went in the peculiar -prison slang of those days, various sentences not very complimentary -to the tastes and habits of young John Ayliffe. "Ay, ay," he said, -"clerk be damned! One of Tom's pals, for a pint and a boiled -bone--droll I don't know him. He must be twenty, and ought to have -been in the stone pitcher often enough before now. Dare say he's been -sent to Mill Dol, for some minor. That's not in my department. I shall -have the darbies on him some day. He'd look handsome under the tree."</p> - -<p class="normal">John Ayliffe had a strong inclination to knock him down, but he -restrained himself, and at length a large plated iron door admitted -the two gentlemen into the penetralia of the temple.</p> - -<p class="normal">A powerful smell of aqua vitæ and other kinds of strong waters now -pervaded the atmosphere, mingled with that close sickly odor which is -felt where great numbers of uncleanly human beings are closely packed -together; and from some distance was heard the sounds of riotous -merriment, ribald song, and hoarse, unfeeling laugh, with curses and -execrations not a few. It was a time when the abominations of the -prison system were at their height.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here, you step in here," said Mr. Cram to the attorney and his -companion, "and I'll bring Tom to you in a minute. He's having a lush -with some of his pals; though I thought we were going to have a mill, -for Jack Perkins, who is to be hanged o' Monday, roused out his slack -jaw at him for some quarrel about a gal, and Tom don't bear such like -easily. Howsumdever, they made it up and clubbed a gallon. Stay, I'll -get you a candle end;" and leaving them in the dark, not much, if the -truth must be told, to the satisfaction of John Ayliffe, he rolled -away along the passage and remained absent several minutes.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he returned, a clanking step followed him, as heavy irons were -dragged slowly on by unaccustomed limbs, and the moment after, Tom -Cutter stood in the presence of his two friends.</p> - -<p class="normal">The jailer brought them in a piece of candle about two inches long, -which he stuck into a sort of socket attached to an iron bar -projecting straight from the wall; and having done this he left the -three together, taking care to close and lock the door behind him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Chair or stool in the room there was none, and the only seat, except -the floor, which the place afforded was the edge of a small wooden -bedstead or trough, as it might be called, scantily furnished with -straw.</p> - -<p class="normal">Both Mr. Shanks and John Ayliffe shook hands with the felon, whose -face, though somewhat flushed with drinking, bore traces of deeper and -sterner feelings than he chose to show. He seemed glad to see them, -however, and said it was very kind of them to come, adding with an -inquiring look at Mr. Shanks, "I can't pay you, you know, Master -lawyer; for what between my garnish and lush, I shall have just enough -to keep me till the 'sizes; I shan't need much after that I fancy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pooh, pooh," cried the attorney, "don't be downhearted, Tom, and as -to pay, never mind that. John here will pay all that's needful, and -we'll have down counsellor Twistem to work the witnesses. We can't -make out an _alibi_, for the folks saw you, but we'll get you up a -character, if money can make a reputation, and I never knew the time -in England when it could not. We have come to consult with you at once -as to what's the best defence to be made, that we may have the story -all pat and right from the beginning, and no shifting and turning -afterwards."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wish I hadn't killed the man," said Tom Cutter, gloomily; "I shan't -forget his face in a hurry as he fell over and cried out 'Oh, my -poor--!' but the last word choked him. He couldn't get it out; but I -fancy he was thinking of his wife--or maybe his children. But what -could I do? He gave me a sight of bad names, and swore he would peach -about what I wanted him to do. He called me a villain, and a -scoundrel, and a cheat, and a great deal more besides, till my blood -got up, and having got the stick by the small end, I hit him with the -knob on the temple. I didn't know I hit so hard; but I was in a rage."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That's just what I thought--just what I thought," said Mr. Shanks. -"You struck him without premeditation in a fit of passion. Now if we -can make out that he provoked you beyond bearing--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That he did," said Tom Cutter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That's what I say," continued Mr. Shanks, "if we can make out that he -provoked you beyond bearing while you were doing nothing unlawful and -wrong, that isn't murder, Tom."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hum," said Tom Cutter, "but how will you get that up, Mr. Shanks? -I've a notion that what I went to him about was devilish unlawful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, but nobody knew any thing of that but you and he, and John -Ayliffe and I. We must keep that quite close, and get up a likely -story about the quarrel. You will have to tell it yourself, you know, -Tom, though we'll make counsellor Twistem let the jury see it -beforehand in his examinations."</p> - -<p class="normal">A gleam of hope seemed to lighten the man's face, and Mr. Shanks -continued, "We can prove, I dare say, that this fellow Scantling had a -great hatred for you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, he had not," said Tom Cutter, "he was more civil to me than -most, for we had been boys together."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That doesn't matter," said Mr. Shanks, "we must prove it; for that's -your only chance, Tom. If we can prove that you always spoke well of -him, so much the better; but we must show that he was accustomed to -abuse you, and to call you a damned ruffian and a poacher. We'll do -it--we'll do it; and then if you stick tight to your story, we'll get -you off."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what's the story to be, master Shanks?" asked Tom Cutter, "I -can't learn a long one; I never was good at learning by heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no; it shall be as short and simple as possible," replied Shanks; -"you must admit having gone over to see him, and that you struck the -blow that killed him. We can't get over that, Tom; but then you must -say you're exceedingly sorry, and was so the very moment after."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So I was," replied Tom Cutter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And your story must refer," continued Mr. Shanks, "to nothing but -what took place just before the blow was struck. You must say that you -heard he accused you of putting wires in Lord Selby's woods, and that -you went over to clear yourself; but that he abused you so violently, -and insulted you so grossly, your blood got up and you struck him, -only intending to knock him down. Do you understand me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite well--quite well," replied Tom Cutter, his face brightening; "I -do think that may do, 'specially if you can make out that I was -accustomed to speak well of him, and he to abuse me. It's an accident -that might happen to any man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To be sure," replied Mr. Shanks; "we will take care to corroborate -your story, only you get it quite right. Now let us hear what you will -say."</p> - -<p class="normal">Tom Cutter repeated the tale he had been taught very accurately; for -it was just suited to his comprehension, and Shanks rubbed his hands, -saying, "That will do--that will do."</p> - -<p class="normal">John Ayliffe, however, was still not without his anxieties, and after -a little hesitation as to how he should put the question which he -meditated, he said, "Of course, Tom, I suppose you have not told any -of the fellows here what you came over for?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The ruffian knew him better than he thought, and understood his object -at once.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, John," he said, "I have'nt peached, and shall not; be you -sure of that. If I am to die, I'll die game, depend upon it; but I do -think there's a chance now, and we may as well make the best of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To be sure--to be sure," answered the more prudent Shanks; "you don't -think, Mr. Ayliffe, that he would be fool enough to go and cut his own -throat by telling any one what would be sure to hang him. That is a -very green notion."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no, nor would I say a word that could serve that Sir Philip -Hastings," said Tom Cutter; "he's been my enemy for the last ten -years, and I could see he would be as glad to twist my neck as I have -been to twist his hares. Perhaps I may live to pay him yet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'm not sure you might not give him a gentle rub in your defence," -said John Ayliffe; "he would not like to hear that his pretty proud -daughter Emily came down to see me, as I'm sure she did, let her say -what she will, when I was ill at the cottage by the park gates. You -were in the house, don't you recollect, getting a jug of beer, while I -was sitting at the door when she came down?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I remember, I remember," replied Tom Cutter, with a malicious smile; -"I gave him one rub which he didn't like when he committed me, and -I'll do this too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take care," said Mr. Shanks, "you had better not mix up other things -with your defence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I can do it quite easily," replied the other with a triumphant -look; "I could tell what happened then, and how I heard there that -people suspected me of poaching still, though I had quite given it up, -and how I determined to find out from that minute who it was accused -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That can do no harm," said Shanks, who had not the least objection to -see Sir Philip Hastings mortified; and after about half an hour's -farther conversation, having supplied Tom Cutter with a small sum of -money, the lawyer and his young companion prepared to withdraw. Shanks -whistled through the keyhole of the door, producing a shrill loud -sound as if he were blowing over the top of a key; and Dionysius Cram -understanding the signal, hastened to let them out.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before we proceed farther, however, with any other personage, we may -as well trace the fate of Mr. Thomas Cutter.</p> - -<p class="normal">The assizes were approaching near at this time, and about a fortnight -after, he was brought to trial; not all the skill of counsellor -Twistem, however, nor the excellent character which Mr. Shanks tried -to procure for him, had any effect; his reputation was too well -established to be affected by any scandalous reports of his being a -peaceable and orderly man. His violence and irregular life were too -well known for the jury to come to any other conclusion than that it -would be a good thing to rid the country of him, and whether very -legally or not, I cannot say, they brought in a verdict of wilful -murder without quitting the box. His defence, however, established for -him the name of a very clever fellow, and one portion of it certainly -sent Sir Philip Hastings from the Court thoughtful and gloomy. -Nevertheless, no recommendation to mercy having issued from the Judge, -Tom Cutter was hanged in due form of law, and to use his own words, -"died game."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXIV.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">We must go back a little, for we have somewhat anticipated our -tale. -Never did summons strike more joyfully on the ear of mortal than came -that of her recall home to Emily Hastings. As so often happens to all -in life, the expected pleasure had turned to ashes on the lip, and her -visit to Mrs. Hazleton offered hardly one point on which memory could -rest happily. Nay, more, without being able definitely to say why, -when she questioned her own heart, the character of her beautiful -hostess had suffered by close inspection. She was not the same in -Emily's esteem as she had been before. She could not point out what -Mrs. Hazleton had said or done to produce such an impression; but she -was less amiable,--less reverenced. It was not alone that the -trappings in which a young imagination had decked her were stripped -off; but it was that a baser metal beneath had here and there shown -doubtfully through the gilding with which she concealed her real -character.</p> - -<p class="normal">If the summons was joyful to Emily, it was a surprise and an -unpleasant one to Mrs. Hazleton. Not that she wished to keep her young -guest with her long; for she was too keen and shrewd not to perceive -that Emily would not be worked upon so easily as she had imagined; and -that under her very youthfulness there was a strength of character -which must render one part of the plans against her certainly -abortive. But Mrs. Hazleton was taken by surprise. She could have -wished to guard against construction of some parts of her conduct -which must be the more unpleasant, because the more just. She had -fancied she would have time to give what gloss she chose to her -conduct in Emily's eyes, and to prevent dangerous explanations between -the father and the daughter. Moreover, the suddenness of the call -alarmed her and raised doubts. Wherever there is something to be -concealed there is something to be feared, and Mrs. Hazleton asked -herself if Emily had found means to communicate to Sir Philip Hastings -what had occurred with John Ayliffe.</p> - -<p class="normal">That, however, she soon concluded was impossible. Some knowledge of -the facts, nevertheless, might have reached him from other sources, -and Mrs. Hazleton grew uneasy. Sir Philip's letter to his daughter, -which Emily at once suffered her hostess to see, threw no light upon -the subject. It was brief, unexplicit, and though perfectly kind and -tender, peremptory. It merely required her to return to the Hall, as -some business rendered her presence at home necessary.</p> - -<p class="normal">Little did Mrs. Hazleton divine the business to which Sir Philip -alluded. Had she known it, what might have happened who can say? There -were terribly strong passions within that fair bosom, and there were -moments when those strong passions mastered even strong worldly sense -and habitual self-control.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was not much time, however, for even thought, and less for -preparation. Emily departed, after having received a few words of -affectionate caution from Mrs. Hazleton, delicately and skilfully put, -in such a manner as to produce the impression that she was speaking of -subjects personally indifferent to herself--except in so much as her -young friend's own happiness was concerned.</p> - -<p class="normal">Shall we say the truth? Emily attended but little. Her thoughts were -full of her father's letter, and of the joy of returning to a home -where days passed peacefully in an even quiet course, very different -from that in which the stream of time had flowed at Mrs. Hazleton's. -The love of strong emotions--the brandy-drinking of the mind--is an -acquired taste. Few, very few have it from nature. Poor Emily, she -little knew how many strong emotions were preparing for her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Gladly she saw the carriage roll onward through scenes more and more -familiar at every step. Gladly she saw the forked gates appear, and -marked the old well-known hawthorns as they flitted by her; and the -look of joy with which she sprang into her fathers arms, might have -convinced any heart that there was but one home she loved.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now go and dress for dinner at once, my child," said Sir Philip, "we -have delayed two hours for you. Be not long."</p> - -<p class="normal">Nor was Emily long; she could not have been more rapid had she known -that Marlow was waiting eagerly for her appearance. Well pleased, -indeed, was she to see him, when she entered the drawing-room; but for -the first time since she had known him--from some cause or other--a -momentary feeling of embarrassment--of timidity, came upon her; and -the color rose slightly in her cheek. Her eyes spoke, however, more -than her lips could say, and Marlow must have been satisfied, if -lovers ever could be satisfied.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings was lying languidly on a couch, not knowing how to -intimate to her daughter her disapproval of a suit yet unknown to -Emily herself. She could not venture to utter openly one word in -opposition; for Sir Philip Hastings had desired her not to do so, and -she had given a promise to forbear, but she thought it would be -perfectly consistent with that promise, and perfectly fair and right -to show in other ways than by words, that Mr. Marlow was not the man -she would have chosen for her daughter's husband, and even to -insinuate objections which she dare not state directly.</p> - -<p class="normal">In her manner to Marlow therefore, Lady Hastings, though perfectly -courteous and polite--for such was Sir Philip's pleasure--was as cold -as ice, always added "Sir" to her replies, and never forgot herself so -far as to call him by his name.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily remarked this demeanor; but she knew--I should rather have said -she was aware; for it was a matter more of sensation than thought,--a -conviction that had grown up in her mind without reflection--she was -aware that her mother was somewhat capricious in her friendships. She -had seen it in the case of servants and of some of the governesses she -had had when she was quite young. One day they would be all that was -estimable and charming in Lady Hastings' eyes, and another, from some -slight offence--some point of demeanor which she did not like--or some -moody turn of her own mind, they would be all that was detestable. It, -had often been the same, too, with persons of a higher station; and -therefore it did not in the least surprise her to find that Mr. -Marlow, who had been ever received by Lady Hastings before as a -familiar friend, should now be treated almost as a stranger.</p> - -<p class="normal">It grieved her, nevertheless, and she thought that Marlow must feel -her mother's conduct painfully. She would fain have made up for it by -any means in her power, and thus the demeanor of Lady Hastings had an -effect the direct reverse of that which she intended. Nor did her -innuendos produce any better results, for she soon saw that they -grieved and offended her husband, while her daughter showed marvellous -stupidity, as she thought, in not comprehending them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Full of love, and now full of hope likewise, Marlow, it must be -confessed, thought very little of Lady Hastings at all. He was one of -those men upon whom love sits well--they are but few in the world--and -whatever agitation he might feel at heart, there was none apparent in -his manner. His attention to Emily was decided, pointed, not to be -mistaken by any one well acquainted with such matters; but he was -quite calm and quiet about it; there was no flutter about it--no -forgetfulness of proprieties; and his conversation had never seemed to -Emily so agreeable as that night, although the poor girl knew not what -was the additional charm. Delightful to her, however, it was; and in -enjoying it she forgot altogether that she had been sent for about -business--nay, even forgot to wonder what that business could be.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus passed the evening; and when the usual time for retiring came, -Emily was a little surprised that there was no announcement of Mr. -Marlow's horse, or Mr. Marlow's carriage, as had ever been the case -before, but that Mr. Marlow was going to spend some days at the hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">When Lady Hastings rose to go to rest, and her daughter rose to go -with her, another thing struck Emily as strange. Sir Philip, as his -wife passed him, addressed to her the single word "Beware!" with a -very marked emphasis. Lady Hastings merely bowed her head, in reply; -but when she and Emily arrived at her dressing-room, where the -daughter had generally stayed to spend a few minutes with her mother -alone, Lady Hastings kissed her, and wished her good night, declaring -that she felt much fatigue, and would ring for her maid at once.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings was a very good woman, and wished to obey her husband's -injunctions to the letter, but she felt afraid of herself, and would -not trust herself with Emily alone.</p> - -<p class="normal">Dear Emily lay awake for half an hour after she had sought her pillow, -but not more, and then she fell into a sleep as soft and calm as that -of childhood, and the next morning rose as blooming as the flower of -June. Sir Philip was up when she went down stairs, and walking on the -terrace with Marlow. Lady Hastings sent word that she would breakfast -in her own room, when she had obtained a few hours' rest, as she had -not slept all night. Thus Emily had to attend to the breakfast-table -in her mother's place; but in those days the lady's functions at the -morning meal were not so various and important as at present; and the -breakfast passed lightly and pleasantly. Still there was no mention of -the business which had caused Emily to be summoned so suddenly, and -when the breakfast was over, Sir Philip retired to his library, -without asking Emily to follow, and merely saying, "You had better not -disturb your mother, my dear child. If you take a walk I will join you -ere long."</p> - -<p class="normal">For the first time, a doubt, a notion--for I must not call it a -suspicion--came across the mind of Emily, that the business for which -she had been sent might have something to do with Mr. Marlow. How her -little heart beat! She sat quite still for a minute or two, for she -did not know, if she rose, what would become of her.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length the voice of Marlow roused her from her gently-troubled -reverie, as he said. "Will you not come out to take a walk?"</p> - -<p class="normal">She consented at once, and went away to prepare. Nor was she long, for -in less than ten minutes, she and Marlow were crossing the park, -towards the older and thicker trees amidst which they had rambled once -before. But it was Marlow who now led her on a path which he chose -himself. I know not whether it was some memory of his walk with Mrs. -Hazleton, or whether it was that instinct which leads love to seek -shady places, or whether, like a skilful general, he had previously -reconnoitred the ground; but something or other in his own breast -induced him to deviate from the more direct track which they had -followed on their previous walk, and guide his fair companion across -the short dry turf towards the thickest part of the wood, through -which there penetrated, winding in and out amongst the trees, a small -path, just wide enough for two, bowered overhead by crossing branches, -and gaining sweet woodland scenes of light and shade at every step, as -the eye dived into the deep green stillness between the large old -trunks, carefully freed from underwood, and with their feet carpeted -with moss, and flowers, and fern. It was called the deer's track, from -the fact that along it, morning and evening, all the bucks and does -which had herded on that side of the park might be seen walking -stately down to or from a bright, clear-running trout-stream, that -wandered along about a quarter of a mile farther on; and often, in the -hot weather, a person standing half way down the walk might see a tall -antlered fellow standing with his forefeet in the water and his -hind-quarters raised upon the bank, gazing at himself in the liquid -mirror below, with all his graceful beauties displayed to the -uttermost by a burst of yellow light, which towards noon always poured -upon the stream at that place.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow and Emily, however, were quite alone upon the walk. Not even a -hind or hart was there; and after the first two or three steps, Marlow -asked his fair companion to take his arm. She did so, readily; for she -needed it, not so much because the long gnarled roots of the trees -crossed the path from time to time, and offered slight impediments, -for usually her foot was light as air, but because she felt an -unaccountable languor upon her, a tremulous, agitated sort of unknown -happiness unlike any thing else she had ever before experienced.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow drew her little hand through his arm then, and she rested upon -it, not with the light touch of a mere acquaintance, but with a gentle -confiding pressure which was very pleasant to him, and yet the -capricious man must needs every two or three minutes, change that -kindly position as the trees and irregularities of the walk afforded -an excuse. Now he placed Emily on the one side, now on the other, and -if she had thought at all (but by this time she was far past thought,) -she might have fancied that he did so solely for the purpose of once -more taking her hand in his to draw it through his arm again.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the spot where the walk struck the stream, and before it proceeded -onward by the bank, there was a little irregular open space not twenty -yards broad in any direction, canopied over by the tall branches of an -oak, and beneath the shade about twelve yards from the margin of the -stream, was a pure, clear, shallow well of exceedingly cold water, -which as it quietly flowed over the brink went on to join the rivulet -below. The well was taken care of, kept clean, and basined in plain -flat stones; but there was, no temple over it, Gothic or Greek. On the -side farthest from the stream was a plain wooden bench placed for the -convenience of persons who came to drink the waters which were -supposed to have some salutary influence, and there by tacit consent -Marlow and Emily seated themselves side by side.</p> - -<p class="normal">They gazed into the clear little well at their feet, seeing all the -round variegated pebbles at the bottom glistening like jewels as the -branches above, moved by a fresh wind that was stirring in the sky, -made the checkered light dance over the surface. There was a green -leaf broken by some chance from a bough above which floated about upon -the water as the air fanned it gently, now hither, now thither, now -gilded by the sunshine, now covered with dim shadow. After pausing in -silence for a moment or two, Marlow pointed to the leaf with a light -and seemingly careless smile, saying, "See how it floats about, Emily. -That leaf is like a young heart full of love."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed," said Emily, looking full in his face with a look of inquiry, -for perhaps she thought that in his smile she might find an -interpretation of what was going on in her own bosom. "Indeed! How -so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you not see," said Marlow, "how it is blown about by the softest -breath, which stirs not the less sensitive things around, how it is -carried by any passing air now into bright hopeful light, now into dim -melancholy shadow?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And is that like love?" asked Emily. "I should have thought it was -all brightness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, happy love--love returned," replied Marlow, "but where there is -uncertainty, a doubt, there hope and fear make alternately the light -and shade of love, and the lightest breath will bear the heart from -the one extreme to the other--I know it from the experience of the -last three days, Emily; for since last we met I too have fluctuated -between the light and shade. Your father's consent has given a -momentary gleam of hope, but it is only you who can make the light -permanent."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily shook, and her eyes were bent down upon the water; but she -remained silent so long that Marlow became even more agitated than -herself. "I know not what I feel," she murmured at length,--"it is -very strange."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But hear me, Emily," said Marlow, taking her unresisting hand, "I do -not ask an immediate answer to my suit. If you regard me with any -favor--if I am not perfectly indifferent to you, let me try to improve -any kindly feelings in your heart towards me in the bright hope of -winning you at last for my own, my wife. The uncertainty may be -painful--must be painful; but--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, Marlow," cried Emily, raising her eyes to his face for an -instant with her cheek all glowing, "there must be no uncertainty. Do -you think I would keep you--you, in such a painful state as you have -mentioned? Heaven forbid!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then what am I to think?" asked Marlow pressing closer to her side -and gliding his arm round her. "I am almost mad to dream of such -happiness, and yet your tone, your look, my Emily, make me so rash. -Tell me then--tell me at once, am I to hope or to despair?--Will you -be mine?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course," she answered, "can you doubt it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can almost doubt my senses," said Marlow; but he had no occasion to -doubt them.</p> - -<p class="normal">They sat there for nearly half an hour; they then wandered on, with -marvellous meanderings in their course, for more than an hour and a -half more, and when they returned, Emily knew more of love than ever -could be learned from books. Marlow drew her feelings forth and gave -them definite form and consistency. He presented them to her by -telling what he himself felt in a plain and tangible shape, which -required no long reverie--none of their deep fits of thoughtfulness to -investigate and comprehend. From the rich store of his own -imagination, and the treasury of deep feeling in his breast, he poured -forth illustrations that brightened as if with sunshine every -sensation which had been dark and mysterious in her bosom before; -and ere they turned their steps back towards the house, Emily -believed--nay, she felt; and that is much more--that without knowing -it, she had loved him long.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXV.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">This must be a chapter of rapid action, comprising in its -brief space -the events of many months--events which might not much interest the -reader in minute detail, but which produced important results to all -the persons concerned, and drew on the coming catastrophe.</p> - -<p class="normal">The news that Mr. Marlow was about to be married to Emily, the -beautiful heiress of Sir Philip Hastings, spread far and wide over the -country; and if joy and satisfaction reigned in the breasts of three -persons in Emily's dwelling, discontent and annoyance were felt more -and more strongly every hour by Lady Hastings. A Duke, she thought, -would not have been too high a match for her daughter, with all the -large estates she was to inherit; and the idea of her marrying a -simple commoner was in itself very bitter. She was not a woman to bear -a disappointment gracefully; and Emily soon had the pain of -discovering that her engagement to Marlow was much disapproved by her -mother. She consoled herself, however, by the full approval of her -father, who was somewhat more than satisfied.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip for his part, considering his daughter's youth, required -that the marriage should be delayed at least two years, and, in his -theoretical way, he soon built up a scheme, which was not quite so -successful as he could have wished. Marlow's character was, in most -respects, one after his own heart; but as I have shown, he had thought -from the first, that there were weak points in it,--or rather points -rendered weak by faults of education and much mingling with the world. -He wanted, in short, some of that firmness--may I not say hardness of -the old Roman, which Sir Philip so peculiarly admired; and the scheme -now was, to re-educate Marlow, if I may use the term, during the next -two years, to mould him in short after Sir Philip's own idea of -perfection. How this succeeded, or failed, we shall have occasion -hereafter to show.</p> - -<p class="normal">Tidings of Emily's engagement were communicated to Mrs. Hazleton, -first by rumor, and immediately after by more certain information in a -letter from Lady Hastings. I will not dwell upon the effect produced -in her. I will not lift up the curtain with which she covered her own -breast, and show all the dark and terrible war of passions within. For -three days Mrs. Hazleton was really ill, remained shut up in her room, -had the windows darkened, admitted no one but the maid and the -physician: and well for her was it, perhaps, that the bitter anguish -she endured overpowered her corporeal powers, and forced seclusion -upon her. During those three days she could not have concealed her -feelings from all eyes had she been forced to mingle with society; but -in her sickness she had time for thought--space to fight the battle -in, and she came forth triumphant.</p> - -<p class="normal">When she at length appeared in her own drawing-room no one could have -imagined that the illness was of the heart. She was a little paler -than before, there was a soft and pleasing languor about her carriage, -but she was, to all appearance, as calm and cheerful as ever.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless she thought it better to go to London for a short time. -She did not yet dare to meet Emily Hastings. She feared _herself_.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet the letter of Lady Hastings was a treasure to her, for it gave her -hopes of vengeance. In it the mother showed but too strongly her -dislike of her daughter's choice, and Mrs. Hazleton resolved to -cultivate the friendship of Lady Hastings, whom she had always -despised, and to use her weakness for her own purposes.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was destined, moreover, to have other sources of consolation, and -that more rapidly than she expected. It was shortly before her return -to the country that the trial of Tom Cutter took place; and not long -after she came back that he was executed. Many persons at the trial -had remarked the effect which some parts of the evidence had produced -on Sir Philip Hastings. He was not skilful in concealing the emotions -that he felt, and although it was sometimes difficult, from the -peculiarities of his character, to discover what was their precise -nature, they always left some trace by which it might be seen that he -was greatly moved.</p> - -<p class="normal">Information of the facts was given to Mrs. Hazleton by Shanks the -attorney, and young John Ayliffe, who dwelt with pleasure upon the -pain his successful artifice had inflicted; and Mrs. Hazleton was well -pleased too.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the wound was deeper than they thought. It was like that produced -by the bite of a snake--insignificant in itself, but carrying poison -into every vein.</p> - -<p class="normal">Could his child deceive him? Sir Philip Hastings asked himself. Could -Emily have long known this vulgar youth--gone secretly down to see him -at a distant cottage--conferred with him unknown to either father or -mother? It seemed monstrous to suppose such a thing; and yet what -could he believe? She had never named John Ayliffe since her return -from Mrs. Hazleton's; and yet it was certain from Marlow's own -account, that she had seen him there. Did not that show that she was -desirous of concealing the acquaintance from her parents?</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip had asked no questions, leaving her to speak if she thought -fit. He was now sorry for it, and resolved to inquire; as the fact of -her having seen the young man, for whom he felt an inexpressible -dislike, had been openly mentioned in a court of justice. But as he -rode home he began to argue on the other side of the question. The man -who had made the assertion was a notorious liar--a convicted felon. -Besides, he knew him to be malicious; he had twice before thrown out -insinuations which Sir Philip believed to be baseless, and could only -be intended to produce uneasiness. Might not these last words of his -be traced to the same motive? He would inquire in the first place, he -thought, what was the connection between the convict and John Ayliffe, -and stopping on the way for that purpose, he, soon satisfied himself -that the two were boon companions.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he reached his own dwelling, he found Emily seated by Marlow in -one of her brightest, happiest moods. There was frank candor, graceful -innocence, bright open-hearted truth in every look and every word. It -was impossible to doubt her; and Sir Philip cast the suspicion from -him, but, alas! not for ever. They would return from time to time to -grieve and perplex him; and he would often brood for hours over his -daughter's character, puzzling himself more and more. Yet he would not -say a word--he blamed himself for even thinking of the matter; and he -would not show a suspicion. Yet he continued to think and to doubt, -while poor unconscious Emily would have been ready, if asked, to solve -the whole mystery in a moment. She had been silent from an -unwillingness to begin a painful subject herself; and though she had -yielded no assent to Mrs. Hazleton's arguments, they had made her -doubt whether she ought to mention, unquestioned, John Ayliffe's -proposal and conduct. She had made up her mind to tell all, if her -father showed the slightest desire to know any thing regarding her -late visit; but there was something in the effects which that visit -had produced on her mind, which she could not explain to herself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Why did she love Mrs. Hazleton less? Why had she lost so greatly her -esteem for her? What had that lady done or said which justified so -great a change of feeling towards her? Emily could not tell. She could -fix upon no word, no act, she could entirely blame--but yet there had -been a general tone in her whole demeanor which had opened the poor -girl's eyes too much. She puzzled herself sadly with her own thoughts; -and probably would have fallen into more than one of her deep -self-absorbed reveries, had not sweet new feelings, Marlow's frequent -presence, kept her awake to a brighter, happier world of thought.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was indeed very happy; and, could she have seen her mother look -brighter and smile upon her, she would have been perfectly so. Her -father's occasional moodiness she did not heed; for he often seemed -gloomy merely from intense thought. Emily had got a key to such dark -reveries in her own heart, and she knew well that they were no true -indications either of discontent or grief, for very often when to the -eyes of others she seemed the most dull and melancholy, she was -enjoying intense delight in the activity of her own mind. She judged -her father from herself, and held not the slightest idea that any -word, deed or thought of hers had given him the slightest uneasiness.</p> - -<p class="normal">Notwithstanding the various contending feelings and passions which -were going on in the little circle on which our eyes are fixed, the -course of life had gone on with tolerable smoothness as far as Emily -and Marlow were concerned, for about two months, when, one morning, -Sir Philip Hastings received a letter in a hand which he did not know. -It reached him at the breakfast table, and evidently affected him -considerably with some sort of emotion. His daughters instantly caught -the change of his countenance, but Sir Philip did not choose that any -one should know he could be moved by any thing on earth, and he -instantly repressed all agitation, quietly folded up the letter again, -concluded his breakfast, and then retired to his own study.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily was not deceived, however. There were moments in Sir Philip's -life when he was unable to conceal altogether the strong feelings of -his heart under the veil of stoicism--or as he would have termed -it--to curb and restrain them by the power of philosophy. Emily had -seen such moments, and knew, that whatever were the emotions produced -by that letter, whether of anger or grief or apprehension--her father -was greatly moved.</p> - -<p class="normal">In his own study, Sir Philip Hastings seated himself, spread the -letter before him, and read it over attentively. But now it did not -seem to affect him in the least. He was, in fact, ashamed of the -feelings he had experienced and partly shown. "How completely," said -he to himself, "does a false and fictitious system of society render -us the mere slaves of passion, infecting even those who tutor -themselves from early years to resist its influence. Here an insolent -young man lays claim to my name, and my inheritance, and coolly -assumes not only that he has a title to do so, but that I know it; and -this instead of producing calm contempt, makes my heart beat and my -blood boil, as if I were the veriest schoolboy."</p> - -<p class="normal">The letter was all that Sir Philip stated, but it was something more. -It was a very artful epistle, drawn up by the joint shrewdness of Mr. -Shanks, Mr. John Ayliffe, and Mrs. Hazleton. It concisely stated the -claims of the young man who signed it, to all the property of the late -Sir John Hastings and to the baronetcy. It made no parade of proofs, -but assumed that those in the writer's possession were indisputable, -and also that Sir Philip Hastings was well aware that John Ayliffe was -his elder brother's legitimate son. The annuity which had been bought -for himself and his mother was broadly stated to have been the -purchase-money of her silence, negotiated by her father, who had no -means to carry on a suit at law. As long as his mother lived, the -writer said, he had been silent out of deference to her wishes, but -now that she was dead in France, he did not feel himself bound to -abide by an arrangement which deprived him at once of fortune and -station, and which had been entered into without his knowledge or -consent. He then went on to call upon Sir Philip Hastings in the -coolest terms to give up possession and acknowledge his right without -what the writer called "the painful ceremony of a lawsuit;" and in two -parts of the letter allusion was made to secret information which the -writer had obtained by the kind confidence of a friend whom he would -not name.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was probably intended to give point to this insinuation at an after -period, but if it was aimed at poor Emily, it fell harmless for the -time, as no one knew better than Sir Philip that she had never been -informed of any thing which could affect the case in question.</p> - -<p class="normal">Indeed, the subject of the annuity was one which he had never -mentioned to any one since the transaction had been completed many -years before; and the name of John Ayliffe had never passed his lips -till Marlow mentioned having seen that young man at Mrs. Hazleton's -house.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he had read the letter, and as soon as he thought he had mastered -the last struggle of passion, he dipped the pen in the ink and wrote -the few following words:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir Philip Hastings has received the letter signed John Ayliffe -Hastings. He knows no person of that name, but has heard of a young -man of the name of John Ayliffe. If that person thinks he has any just -claim on Sir Philip Hastings, or his estate, he had better pursue it -in the legal and ordinary course, as Sir Philip Hastings begs to -disclaim all private communication with him."</p> - -<p class="normal">He addressed the letter to "Mr. John Ayliffe," and sent it to the -post. This done, he rejoined Marlow and Emily, and to all appearance -was more cheerful and conversable than he had been for many a previous -day. Perhaps it cost him an effort to be cheerful at all, and the -effort went a little beyond its mark. Emily was not altogether -satisfied, but Lady Hastings, when she came down, which, as usual, was -rather late in the day, remarked how gay her husband was.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip said nothing to any one at the time regarding the contents -of the letter he had received. He consulted no lawyer even, and tried -to treat the subject with contemptuous forgetfulness; but his was a -brooding and tenacious mind, and he often thought of the epistle, and -the menaces it implied, against his own will. Nor could he or any one -connected with him long remain unattentive or ignorant of the matter, -for in a few weeks the first steps were taken in a suit against him, -and, spreading from attorneys' offices in every direction, the news of -such proceedings travelled far and wide, till the great Hastings case -became the talk of the whole country round.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time, Sir Philip's reply was very speedily shown to Mrs. -Hazleton, and that lady triumphed a good deal. Sir Philip was now in -the same position with John Ayliffe, she thought, that she had been in -some time before with Mr. Marlow; and already he began to show, in her -opinion, a disposition to treat the case very differently in his own -instance and in hers.</p> - -<p class="normal">There he had strongly supported private negotiation; here he rejected -it altogether; and she chose to forget that circumstances, though -broadly the same, were in detail very different.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We shall see," she said to herself, "we shall see whether, when the -proofs are brought forward, he will act with that rigid sense of -justice, which he assumed here."</p> - -<p class="normal">When the first processes had been issued, however, and common rumor -justified a knowledge of the transaction, without private information, -Mrs. Hazleton set out at once to visit "poor dear Lady Hastings," and -condole with her on the probable loss of fortune. How pleasant it is -to condole with friends on such occasions. What an accession of -importance we get in our own eyes, especially if the poor people we -comfort have been a little bit above us in the world.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Mrs. Hazleton had higher objects in view; she wanted no accession -of importance. She was quite satisfied with her own position in -society. She sought to see and prompt Lady Hastings--to sow dissension -where she knew there must already be trouble; and she found Sir -Philip's wife just in the fit frame of mind for her purpose. Sir -Philip himself and Emily had ridden out together; and though Mrs. -Hazleton would willingly have found an opportunity of giving Sir -Philip a sly friendly kick, and of just reminding him of his doctrines -announced in the case between herself and Mr. Marlow, she was not -sorry to have Lady Hastings alone for an hour or two. They remained -long in conference, and I need not detail all that passed. Lady -Hastings poured forth all her grief and indignation at Emily's -engagement to Mr. Marlow; and Mrs. Hazleton did nothing to diminish -either. She agreed that it was a very unequal match, that Emily with -her beauty and talents, and even with her mother's fortune alone, -might well marry into the highest family of the land. Nay, she said, -could the match be broken off, she might still take her rank among the -peeresses. She did not advise, indeed, actual resistance on the part -of her friend; she feared Lady Hastings' discretion; but she -insinuated that a mother and a wife by unwavering and constant -opposition, often obtained her own way, even in very difficult -circumstances.</p> - -<p class="normal">From that hour Mrs. Hazleton was Lady Hastings' best friend.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXVI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">There are seasons in the life of man, as well as in the course -of the -year; and well, unhappily, have many poets painted them in all their -various aspects. But these seasons are subject to variations with -different men, as with different years. The summer of one man is all -bright and calm--a lapse of tranquil sunshine, and soft airs, and -gentle dews. With another, the same season passes in the thunder-storm -of passion--the tempests of war or ambition--and often, the gloomy -days of autumn or of winter overshadowed the rich land, and spoiled -the promised harvest.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was an autumn-like period during the next three or four months of -the family of Sir Philip Hastings. For the first time, uncertainty and -doubt fell upon the family generally. There had been differences of -temper and of character. There had been slight inconveniences. There -had been occasional sickness and anxiety. There had been all those -things which in the usual course of events diminished the sum of human -happiness even to the most happy. But there had been nothing the least -like uncertainty of position. There had been no wavering anxiety from -day to day as to what the morrow was to bring forth. There had been -none of that poison-drop in which the keenest shafts of fate are -dipped, "the looking for of evil."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, every day brought some new intelligence, and some new -expectation, and the mass was altogether unfavorable. Had the blow -fallen at once--had any one been in power to say, "Sir Philip -Hastings, you must resign all your paternal estates, and pay back at -once the rents for nearly twenty years--you must give up the rank and -station which you have hitherto held, and occupy a totally different -position in society!" Sir Philip would have submitted at once, and -with less discomfort than most of my readers can imagine. But it was -the wearing, irritating, exciting, yet stupefying progress of a -lawsuit which had a painful and distressing effect upon his mind. One -day, he thought he saw the case quite clearly--could track the tricks -of his adversary, and expose the insecure foundation of his claim; and -then would come two or three days of doubt and discussion, and then -disappointment, and a new turn where every thing had to begin again. -But gradually proofs swelled up, first giving some show of justice to -the pretence that John Ayliffe had some claim, then amounting to a -probability in his favor, then seeming, to unlearned eyes, very -powerful as to his right.</p> - -<p class="normal">I am no lawyer, and therefore cannot pursue all the stages of the -proceeding; but John Ayliffe had for his assistants unscrupulous men, -whose only aims were to succeed, and to shield themselves from danger -in case of detection; and their turns, and twists, and new points, -were manifold.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings was tortured. It affected his spirits and his -temper. He became more gloomy--occasionally irritable, often -suspicious. He learned to pore over law papers, to seek out flaws and -errors, to look for any thing that might convey a double meaning, to -track the tortuous and narrow paths by which that power which bears -the name of Justice reaches the clear light of truth, or falls into -the thorny deep of error.</p> - -<p class="normal">All this disturbed and changed him; and these daily anxieties and -discomforts affected his family too--Emily, indeed, but little, except -inasmuch as she was grieved to see her father grieve. But Lady -Hastings was not only pained and mortified herself--she contrived -to communicate a share of all she felt to others. She became -sad--somewhat sullen--and fancied all the time while she was -depressing her husband's spirits, and aggravating all he felt by -despondency and murmurs, instead of cheering and supporting him by -making light of the threatened evils, that she was but participating -sympathetically in his anxieties, and feeling a due share of his -sorrows. She had no idea of the duty of cheerfulness, in a wife, and -how often it may prove the very blessing that God intended in giving -man a helpmate.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sickness, it is true, had diminished somewhat the light spirits of her -youth, but she had assuredly become a creature of repinings--a -murmurer by habit--fit to double rather than divide any load of -misfortune which fate might cast upon a husband's shoulders.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings strove rather to look sad, Emily Hastings to be gay and -cheerful, and both did it perhaps a little too much for the mood and -circumstances in which Sir Philip then was. He wondered when he came -home, after an anxious day, that Lady Hastings did nothing to cheer -him--that every word was gloomy and sad--that she seemed far more -affected at the thought of loss of fortune and station than himself. -He wondered also that Emily could be so light and playful, so joyous -and seemingly unconcerned, when he was suffering such anxiety.</p> - -<p class="normal">Poor Emily! she was forcing spirits in vain, and playing the kindliest -of hypocrites--fashioning every word, and every look, to win him away -from painful thought, only to be misunderstood.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the misunderstanding was heightened and pointed by the hand of -malice. The emotion which Sir Philip had displayed in the court had -not been forgotten by some whom a spirit of revenge rendered keen and -clear-sighted.</p> - -<p class="normal">It seemed impossible to mingle Emily's name directly with the law -proceedings which were taking place; but more than once in accidental -correspondence it was insinuated that secret information, which had -led to the development of John Ayliffe's claim, had been obtained from -some near relation of Sir Philip Hastings, and it became generally -rumored and credited in the county, that Emily had indiscreetly -betrayed some secrets of her father's. Of course these rumors did not -reach her ears, but they reached Sir Philip Hastings, and he thought -it strange, and more strange, that Emily had never mentioned to him -her several interviews with John Ayliffe, which he had by this time -learned were more than one.</p> - -<p class="normal">Some strange feelings, disguised doubtless by one of those veils which -vanity or selfishness are ever ready to cast over the naked emotions -of the human heart, withheld him from speaking to his child on the -subject which caused him so much pain. Doubtless it was pride--for -pride of a peculiar kind was at the bottom of many of his actions. He -would not condescend to inquire, he thought, into that which she did -not choose to explain herself, and he went on in reality barring the -way against confidence, when, in truth, nothing would have given Emily -more relief than to open her whole heart to her father.</p> - -<p class="normal">With Marlow, Sir Philip Hastings was more free and communicative than -with any one else. The young man's clear perceptions, and rapid -comprehensions on any point in the course of the proceedings going on, -his zeal, his anxiety, his thoughtfulness, and his keen sense of what -was just and equitable, raised him every day higher in the opinion of -Sir Philip Hastings, and he would consult with him for hours, talk the -whole matter over in all its bearings, and leave him to solve various -questions of conscience in which he found it difficult himself to come -to a decision. Only on one point Sir Philip Hastings never spoke to -him; and that was Emily's conduct with regard to young Ayliffe. That, -the father could not do; and yet, more than once, he longed to do it.</p> - -<p class="normal">One day, however, towards the end of six months after the first -processes had been issued, Sir Philip Hastings, in one of his morning -consultations with Marlow, recapitulated succinctly all the proofs -which young John Ayliffe had brought forward to establish a valid -marriage between his mother and the elder brother of the baronet.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The case is very nearly complete," said Sir Philip. "But two or three -links in the chain of evidence are wanting, and as soon as I become -myself convinced that this young man is, beyond all reasonable doubt, -the legitimate son of my brother John, my course will be soon taken. -It behooves us in the first instance, Marlow, to consider how this may -affect you. You have sought the hand of a rich man's daughter, and now -I shall be a poor man; for although considerable sums have accumulated -since my father's death, they will not more than suffice to pay off -the sums due to this young man if his claim be established, and the -expenses of this suit must be saved by hard economy. The property of -Lady Hastings will still descend to our child, but neither she nor I -have the power to alienate even a part of it for our daughter's dowry. -It is right, therefore, Marlow, that you should be set free from all -engagements."</p> - -<p class="normal">"When I first asked your daughter's hand, Sir Philip," replied -Marlow, "I heartily wished that our fortunes were more equal. Fate has -granted that wish, apparently, in making them so; and believe me, I -rejoice rather than regret that it is so, as far as I myself am -concerned. We shall have enough for comfort, Sir Philip, and not too -much for happiness. What need we more? But I cannot help thinking," he -continued, "that this suit may turn out differently from that which -you expect. I believe that the mind has its instincts, which, though -dangerous to trust to, guide us nevertheless, sometimes, more surely -than reason. There is an impression on my mind, which all the evidence -hitherto brought forward has been unable to shake, that this claim of -John Ayliffe is utterly without foundation--that it is, in fact, a -trumped up case, supported by proofs which will fall to pieces under -close examination."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings shook his head. "But one thing more," he said, -"and I am myself convinced. I will not struggle against conviction, -Marlow; but the moment I feel morally sure that I am defending a bad -cause, that instant I will yield, be the sacrifice what it may. -Nothing on earth," he continued, in a stern abstracted tone, "shall -ever prevent my doing that which I believe right, and which justice -and honor require me to do. Life itself and all that makes life dear -were but a poor sacrifice in the eyes of an honest man; what then a -few thousand acres, and an empty designation?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, my dear Sir Philip," replied Marlow, "let us suppose for one -moment that this claim is a fictitious one, and that it is supported -by fraud and forgery, you will allow that more than a few months are -required to investigate all the particulars thoroughly, and to detect -the knavery which may have been committed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear Marlow," replied Sir Philip, "conviction comes to each mind -accordingly as it is naturally constituted or habitually regulated. I -trust I have studied the nature of evidence well--well enough to be -satisfied with much less than mere law will require. In regard to all -questions which come under the decision of the law, there are, in -fact, two juries who decide upon the merits of the evidence--one, -selected from our fellow men--the other in the bosom of the parties -before which each man shall scrupulously try the justice of his own -cause, and if the verdict be against him, should look upon himself but -as an officer to carry the verdict into execution. I will never act -against conviction. I will always act with it. My mind will try the -cause itself; and the moment its decision is pronounced, that instant -I will act upon it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow knew that it was in vain to argue farther, and could only trust -that something would occur speedily to restore Sir Philip's confidence -in his own rights.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip, however, was now absent very frequently from home. The -unpleasant business in which he was engaged, called him continually to -the county town, and many a long and happy hour might Marlow and Emily -have passed together had not Lady Hastings at this time assumed a -somewhat new character--apparently so only--for it was, in fact, -merely a phase of the old one. She became--as far as health and -indolence would admit--the most prudent and careful mother in the -world. She insinuated that it was highly improper for Emily to walk or -ride alone with her acknowledged lover, and broadly asserted that -their previous rambles had been permitted without her knowledge, and -from inadvertence. During all Marlow's afternoon visits, she took -especial care to sit with them the whole time, and thus she sought to -deprive them of all means of free and unconstrained communication. -Such would have been the result, too, indeed, had it not been for a -few morning hours snatched now and then; partly from a habit of -indulgence, and partly from very delicate health, Lady Hastings was -rarely, if ever, down to breakfast, and generally remained in her -drawing-room till the hour of noon was past.</p> - -<p class="normal">The hours of Sir Philip's absence were generally tedious enough to -himself. Sometimes a day of weary and laborious business occupied the -time; but that was a relief rather than otherwise. In general the day -was spent in a visit to the office of his lawyer, in finding the -information he wanted, or the case he had desired to be prepared, not -ready for him, in waiting for it hour after hour, in tedious gloomy -meditation, and very often riding home without it, reflecting on the -evils of a dilatory system which often, by the refusal of speedy -justice, renders ultimate justice unavailable for any thing but the -assertion of an abstract principle. He got tired of this mode of -proceeding: he felt that it irritated and disordered him, and after a -while, whenever he found that he should be detained in suspense, he -mounted his horse again, and rode away to amuse his mind with other -things.</p> - -<p class="normal">The house of Mrs. Hazleton being so near, he more than once paid her a -visit during such intervals. His coming frequently was not altogether -convenient to her; for John Ayliffe was not an unfrequent visitor at -her house, and Mrs. Hazleton had to give the young men a hint to let -her see him early in the morning or late in the evening. Nevertheless, -Mrs. Hazleton was not at all displeased to cultivate the friendship of -Sir Philip Hastings. She had her objects, her purposes, to serve, and -with her when she put on her most friendly looks towards the baronet -she was not moved merely by that every-day instinctive hypocrisy which -leads man to cover the passions he is conscious of, with a veil of the -most opposite appearances, but it was a definite hypocrisy, with -objects distinctly seen by herself, and full of purpose.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus, and for these reasons, she received Sir Philip Hastings on all -occasions with the highest distinction--assumed, with a certain -chameleon quality which some persons have, the color and tone of his -mind to a considerable degree, while yet the general features of her -own character were preserved sufficiently to shield her from the -charge of affectation. She was easy, graceful, dignified as ever, with -a certain languid air, and serious quietness which was very engaging. -She never referred in her conversations with Sir Philip to the suit -that was going on against him, and when he spoke of it himself, though -she assumed considerable interest, and seemed to have a personal -feeling in the matter, exclaiming, "If this goes on, nobody's estates -will be secure soon!" she soon suffered the subject to drop, and did -not recur to it again.</p> - -<p class="normal">One day after the conversation between Sir Philip and Marlow, part of -which has been already detailed, Sir Philip turned his horse's head -towards Mrs. Hazleton's at a somewhat earlier hour than usual. It was -just half past ten when he dismounted at the door, but he knew her -matutinal habits and did not expect to find her occupied. The servant, -however, instead of showing him into the small room where she usually -sat, took him to the great drawing-room, and as he went, Sir Philip -heard the voices of Mrs. Hazleton and another person in quick and -apparently eager conversation. There was nothing extraordinary in -this, however, and he turned to the window and gazed out into the -park. He heard the servant go into the morning room, and then -immediately all sound of voices ceased. Shortly after, a horse's feet, -beating the ground rapidly, caught the baronet's ear, but the rider -must have mounted in the courtyard and taken the back way out of the -park; for he came not within Sir Philip's sight. A moment or two -after, Mrs. Hazleton appeared, and there was an air of eagerness and -excitement about her which was not at all usual. She seated Sir Philip -beside her, however, with one of her blandest looks, and then laying -her hand on his, said, in a kind and sisterly tone, "Do tell me, Sir -Philip--I am not apt to be curious, or meddle with other people's -affairs; but in this I am deeply interested. A rumor has just reached -me from Hartwell, that you have signified your intention of abandoning -your defence against this ridiculous claim upon your property. Do tell -me if this is true?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Partly, and partly false," replied Sir Philip, "as all rumors are. -Who gave you this information?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, some of the people from Hartwell," she replied, "who came over -upon business."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The tidings must have spread fast," replied Sir Philip; "I announced -to my own legal advisers this morning, and told them to announce to -the opposite party, that if they could satisfy me upon one particular -point, I would not protract the suit, putting them to loss and -inconvenience and myself also."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A noble and generous proceeding, indeed," said Mrs. Hazleton with an -enthusiastic burst of admiration. "Ah, dear Emily, I can see your -mediation in this."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip started as if a knife had been plunged into him, and with a -profound internal satisfaction, Mrs. Hazleton saw the emotion she had -produced.</p> - -<p class="normal">"May I ask," he said, in a dry cold tone, after he had recovered -himself a little, "May I ask what my daughter can have to do with this -affair?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, really--in truth I don't know," said Mrs. Hazleton, stammering -and hesitating, "I only thought--but I dare say it is all nonsense. -Women are always the peacemakers, you know, Sir Philip, and as Emily -knew both parties well, it seemed natural she should mediate between -them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well?--" said Sir Philip Hastings to himself, slowly and -thoughtfully, but he only replied to Mrs. Hazleton, "No, my dear -Madam, Emily has had nothing to do with this. It has never formed a -subject of conversation between us, and I trust that she has -sufficient respect for me, and for herself, not to interfere unasked -in my affairs."</p> - -<p class="normal">The serpent had done its work; the venom was busy in the veins of Sir -Philip Hastings, corrupting the purest sources of the heart's -feelings, and Mrs. Hazleton saw it and triumphed.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXVII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Emily was as gay as a lark. The light of love and happiness -was in her -eyes, the hue of health was upon her cheek, and a new spirit of hope -and joy seemed to pervade all her fair form. So Sir Philip Hastings -found her on the terrace with Marlow when he returned from Hartwell. -She was dressed in a riding habit, and one word would have explained -all the gaiety of her mood. Lady Hastings, never very consequent in -her actions, had wished for some one of those things which ladies wish -for, and which ladies only can choose. She had felt too unwell to go -for it herself; and although she had not a fortnight before expressed -her strong disapprobation of her daughter and Mr. Marlow even walking -out alone in the park, she had now sent them on horseback to procure -what she wanted. They had enjoyed one of those glorious rides over the -downs, which seem to pour into the heart fresh feelings of delight at -every step, flooding the sense with images of beauty, and making the -blood dance freely in the veins. It seemed also, both to her and -Marlow, that a part of the prohibition was removed, and though they -might not perhaps be permitted to walk out together, Lady Hastings -could hardly for the future forbid them to ride. Thus they had come -back very well pleased, with light hearts within, and gay hopes -fluttering round them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings, on the other hand, had passed a day of -bitterness, and hard, painful thought. On his first visit to the -county town, he had, as I have shown, been obliged once more to put -off decision. Then came his conference with Mrs. Hazleton. Then he had -returned to his lawyer's office, and found that the wanting evidence -had been supplied by his opponents. All that he had demanded was -there; and no apparent flaw in the case of his adversary. He had -always announced his attention of withdrawing opposition if such -proofs were afforded, and he did so now, with stern, rigid, and -somewhat hasty determination--but not without bitterness and regret. -His ride home, too, was troubled with dull and grievous thoughts, and -his whole mind was out of tune, and unfit to harmonize with gaiety of -any kind. He forgot that poor Emily could not see what had been -passing in his bosom, could not know all that had occurred to disturb -and annoy him, and her light and cheerful spirits seemed an offence to -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip passed on, after he had spoken a few words to Marlow, and -sought Lady Hastings in the room below, where she usually sat after -she came down. Sir Philip, as I have shown, had not been nurtured in a -tender school, and he was not very apt by gentle preparation to soothe -the communication of any bad tidings. Without any circumlocution, -then, or prefatory remarks of any kind, he addressed his wife in the -following words: "This matter is decided, my dear Rachel. I am no -longer Sir Philip Hastings, and it is necessary that we should remove -from this house within a month, to your old home--the Court. It will -be necessary, moreover, that, we should look with some degree of -accuracy into the state of our future income, and our expenditure. -With your property, and the estate which I inherit from my mother, -which being settled on the younger children, no one can take from me, -we shall still have more than enough for happiness, but the style of -our living must be altered. We shall have plenty of time to think of -that, however, and to do what we have to do methodically."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings, or as we should rather call her now, Mistress Hastings, -seemed at first hardly to comprehend her husband's meaning, and she -replied, "You do not mean to say, Philip, that this horrible cause is -decided?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As far as I am concerned, entirely," replied Sir Philip Hastings. "I -shall offer no farther defence."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings fell into a fit of hysterics, and her husband knowing -that it was useless to argue with her in such circumstances, called -her maid, and left her.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was but a dull dinner-party at the Hall that day. Sir Philip was -gloomy and reserved, and the news which had spread over the house, as -to the great loss of property which he had sustained, soon robbed his -daughter of her cheerfulness.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow, too, was very grave; for he thought his friend had acted, not -only hastily, but imprudently. Lady Hastings did not come down to -dinner, and as soon as the meal was over Emily retired to her mother's -dressing-room, leaving Marlow and her father with their wine. Sir -Philip avoided the subject of his late loss, however, and when Marlow -himself alluded to it, replied very briefly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is done," he said, "and I will cast the matter entirely from my -mind, Marlow. I will endeavor, as far as possible, to do in all -circumstances what is right, whatever be the anguish it costs me. -Having done what is right, my next effort shall be to crush every -thing like regret or repining. There is only one thing in life which -could give me any permanent pain, and that would be to have an -unworthy child."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow did not seem to remark the peculiar tone in which the last -words were uttered, and he replied, "There, at least, you are most -happy, Sir Philip; for surely Emily is a blessing which may well -compensate for any misfortunes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust so--I think so," said Sir Philip, in a dry and hasty manner, -and then changing the subject, he added, "Call me merely Philip -Hastings, my good friend. I say with Lord Verulam, 'The Chancellor is -gone.' I mean I am no longer a baronet. That will not distress me, -however, and as to the loss of fortune, I can bear it with the most -perfect indifference."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Hastings reckoned in some degree without his host, however. He -knew not all the petty annoyances that were in store for him. The -costs he had to pay, the back-rents which were claimed, the long and -complicated accounts that were to be passed, the eager struggle which -was made to deprive him of many things undoubtedly his own; all were -matters of almost daily trouble and irritation during the next six -months. He had greatly miscalculated the whole amount of expenses. -Having lived always considerably within his income, he had imagined -that he had quite a sufficient amount in ready money to pay all the -demands that could be made upon him. But such was far from being the -case. Before all the debts were paid, and the accounts closed, he was -obliged to raise money upon his life-interest in his mother's -property, and to remain dependent, as it were, upon his wife's income -for his whole means. These daily annoyances had a much greater effect -upon Mr. Hastings than any great and serious misfortune could have -had. He became morose, impatient, gloomy. His mind brooded over all -that had occurred, and all that was occurring. He took perverted views -of many things, and adhered to them with an obstinacy that nothing -could shake.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time all the neighbors and friends of the family -endeavored to show their sympathy and kindness by every means in their -power. Even before the family quitted the Hall, the visitors were more -numerous than they had ever been before, and this was some consolation -to Mistress Hastings, though quite the contrary to her husband, who -did not indeed appear very frequently amongst the guests, but remained -in his own study as much as possible.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a very painful day for every one, and for Emily especially, -when they passed the door of the old Hall for the last time, and took -their way through the park towards the Court. The furniture in great -part, the books, the plate, had gone before; the rooms looked vacant -and desolate, and as Emily passed through them one by one, ere she -went down to the carriage, there was certainly nothing very attractive -in their aspect. But there were spots there associated with many dear -memories--feelings--fancies--thoughts--all the bright things of early, -happy youth; and it was very bitter for her to leave them all, and -know that she was never to visit them again.</p> - -<p class="normal">She might, and probably would, have fallen into one of her deep -reveries, but she struggled against it, knowing that both her father -and her mother would require comfort and consolation in the coming -hours. She exerted herself, then, steadily and courageously to bear up -without a show of grief, and she succeeded even too well to satisfy -her father. He thought her somewhat light and frivolous, and judged it -very strange that his daughter could quit her birth-place, and her -early home, without, apparently, one regretful sigh. He himself sat -stern, and gloomy, and silent, in the carriage, as it rolled away. -Mistress Hastings leaned back, with her handkerchief over her eyes, -weeping bitterly. Emily alone was calmly cheerful, and she maintained -this demeanor all the way along till they reached the Court, and -separated till dinner-time. Then, however, she wept bitterly and long.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before she had descended to meet her parents at dinner, she did her -best to efface all traces of her sad employment for the last hour. She -did not succeed completely, and when she entered the drawing-room, and -spoke cheerfully to her father, he raised his eyes to her face, and -detected, at once, the marks of recent tears on her swollen eyelids.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She has been weeping," said Mr. Hastings to himself; "can I have been -mistaken?"</p> - -<p class="normal">A gleam of the truth shot through his mind, and comforted him much, -but alas, it was soon to be lost again.</p> - -<p class="normal">From feelings of delicacy, Marlow had absented himself that day, but -on the following morning he was there early, and thenceforward was a -daily visitor at the Court. He applied himself particularly to cheer -Emily's father, and often spent many hours with him, withdrawing Mr. -Hastings' mind from all that was painful in his own situation, by -leading it into those discussions of abstract propositions of which he -was so fond. But Marlow was not the only frequent visitor at the -Court. Mrs. Hazleton was there two or three times in the week, and was -all kindness, gentleness, and sympathy. She had tutored herself well, -and she met Mr. Marlow as Emily's affianced husband, with an ease and -indifference which was marvellously well assumed. To Mrs. Hastings she -proved the greatest comfort, although it is not be asserted that the -counsels which she gave her, proved at all comfortable to the rest of -the household, and yet Mrs. Hazleton never committed herself. Mrs. -Hastings could not have repeated one word that she said, that any one -on earth could have found fault with. She had a mode of insinuating -advice without speaking it--of eking out her words by looks and -gestures full of significance to the person who beheld them, but -perfectly indescribable to others.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was not satisfied, however, with being merely the friend and -confidante of Mrs. Hastings. She must win Emily's father also, and she -succeeded so well that Mr. Hastings quite forgot all doubts and -suspicions, and causes of offence, and learned to look upon Mrs. -Hazleton as a really kind and amiable person, and as consistent as -could be expected of any woman.</p> - -<p class="normal">Not one word, however, did Mrs. Hazleton say in the hearing of Emily's -father which could tend in any degree to depreciate the character of -Mr. Marlow, or be construed into a disapproval of the proposed -marriage. She was a great deal too wise for that, knowing the -character of Mr. Hastings sufficiently to see that she could effect no -object, and only injure herself by such a course.</p> - -<p class="normal">To Emily she was all that was kind and delightful. She was completely -the Mrs. Hazleton of former days; but with the young girl she was less -successful than with her parents. Emily could never forget the visit -to her house, and what had there occurred, and the feelings which she -entertained towards Mrs. Hazleton were always those of doubt. Her -character was a riddle to Emily, as well it might be. There was -nothing upon which she could definitely fix as an indication of a bad -heart, or of duplicity of nature, and yet she doubted; nor did Marlow -at all assist in clearing her mind; for although they often spoke of -Mrs. Hazleton, and Marlow admitted all her bright and shining -qualities, yet he became very taciturn when Emily entered more deeply -into that lady's character. Marlow likewise had his doubts, and to say -sooth, he was not at all well pleased to see Mrs. Hazleton so -frequently with Mrs. Hastings. He did not well know what it was he -feared, but yet there was a something which instinctively told him -that his interests in Emily's family would not find the most favorable -advocate in Mrs. Hazleton.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was the state of things when one evening there was assembled at -the house of Mr. Hastings, a small dinner party--the first which had -been given since his loss of property. The summer had returned, the -weather was beautiful, the guests were cheerful and intellectual, and -the dinner passed off happily enough. There were several gentlemen and -several ladies present, and amongst the latter was Mrs. Hazleton. -Politics at that time ran high: the people were not satisfied -altogether with the King whom they had themselves chosen, and several -acts of intolerance had proved that promises made before the -attainment of power are not always very strictly maintained when power -has been reached. Mr. Hastings had never meddled in the strife of -party. He had a thorough contempt for policy and politicians, but he -did not at all object to argue upon the general principles of -government, in an abstract manner, and very frequently startled his -hearers by opinions, not only unconstitutional, and wide and far from -any of the received notions of the day, but sometimes also, very -violent, and sometimes, at first sight, irreconcilable with each -other. On the present occasion the conversation after dinner took a -political turn, and straying away from their wine, the gentlemen -walked out into the gardens, which were still beautifully kept up, and -prolonged their discussion in the open air. The ladies too--as all -pictures show they were fond of doing in those days--were walking -amongst the flowers, not in groups, but scattered here and there. -Marlow was naturally making his way to the side of Emily, who was -tying up a shrub at no great distance from the door, but Mrs. Hazleton -unkindly called him to her, to tell her the name of a flower which she -did not know. In the mean time Mr. Hastings took his daughter by the -arm, leaning gently upon her, and walking up and down the terrace, -while he continued his discussion with a Northumberland gentleman -known in history as Sir John Fenwick. "The case seems to be this," -said Mr. Hastings, in reply to some question or the other; "all must -depend upon the necessity. Violent means are bad as a remedy for any -thing but violent evils, but the greatness of the evil will often -justify any degree of vigor in the means. Will any one tell me that -Brutus was not justified in stabbing Cæsar? Will any one tell me that -William Tell was not justified in all that he did against the tyrant -of his country? I will not pretend to justify the English regicides, -not only because they condemned a man by a process unknown to our -laws, and repugnant to all justice, but because they committed an act -for which there was no absolute necessity. Where an absolute necessity -is shown, indeed--where no other means can be found of obtaining -freedom, justice and security, I see no reason why a King should not -be put to death as well as any other man. Nay more, he who does the -deed with a full appreciation of its importance, a conscience clear of -any private motives, and a reasoning sense of all the bearings of the -act he commits, merits a monument rather than a gibbet, though in -these days he is sure to obtain the one and not the other."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush, hush, do not speak so loud, my dear sir," said Sir John -Fenwick; "less than those words brought Sidney's head to the block."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not afraid of mine," replied Mr. Hastings, with a faint smile; -"mine are mere abstract notions with regard to such things; very -little dangerous to any crowned heads, and if they thought fit to put -down such opinions, they would have to burn more than one half of all -the books we have derived from Rome."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir John Fenwick would not pursue the subject, however, and turned the -conversation in another course. He thought indeed that it had gone far -enough, especially when a young lady was present; for he was one of -those men who have no confidence in any woman's discretion, and he -knew well, though he did not profit much by his knowledge, that things -very slight, when taken abstractedly, may become very dangerous if -forced into connection with events. Philip Hastings would have said -what he did say, before any ears in Europe, without the slightest -fear, but as it proved, he had said too much for his own safety. No -one indeed seemed to have noticed the very strong opinions he had -expressed except Sir John Fenwick himself, and shortly after the party -gathered together again, and the conversation became general and not -very interesting.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Men have lived and died in the pursuit of two objects the -least -worthy, on which the high mind of man could ever fix, out of all the -vain illusions that lead us forward through existence from youth to -old age: the philosopher's stone, and the elixir of life. Gold, gold, -sordid gold--not competence--not independence, but wealth--profuse, -inexhaustible wealth--the hard food of Crœsus; strange that it -should ever form the one great object of an immortal spirit! But -stranger still, that a being born to higher destinies should seek to -pin itself down to this dull earth forever--to dwell in a clay hut, -when a palace gates are open--to linger in a prison, when freedom may -be had--to outlive affections, friendships, hope and happiness--to -remain desolate in a garden where every flower has withered. To seek -the philosopher's stone--even could it have been found--was a madness: -but to desire the elixir of life was a worse insanity.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was once, however, in the world's history a search--an eager -search, for that which at first sight may seem nearly the same as the -great elixir; but which was in reality very, very different.</p> - -<p class="normal">We are told by the historians of America, that a tradition prevailed -amongst the Indians of Puerto Rico, that in one of the islands on the -coast, there was a fountain which possessed the marvellous power of -restoring, to any one who bathed in its waters, all the vigor and -freshness of youth, and that some of the Spanish adventurers sought it -anxiously, but sought in vain. Here indeed was an object worthy of -desire--here, what the heart might well yearn for, and mourn to find -impossible.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oh, that fountain of youth, what might it not give back! The easy -pliancy of limb: the light activity of body: the calm, sweet sleep: -the power of enjoyment and acquisition: the freshness of the heart: -the brightness of the fancy: the brilliant dreams: the glorious -aspirations: the beauty and the gentleness: the innocence: the love. -We, who stand upon the shoal of memory, and look back in our faint -dreams, to the brighter land left far behind, may well long for that -sweet fountain which could renew--not life--but youth.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oh youth--youth! Give me but one year of youth again. And it shall -come. I see it there, beyond the skies, that fountain of youth, in the -land where all flowers are immortal.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is very strange, however, that with some men, when youth is gone, -its very memories die also. They can so little recollect the feelings -of that brighter time, that they cannot comprehend them in others: -that they become a mystery--a tale written in a tongue they have -forgotten.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was so with Philip Hastings, and so also with his wife. Neither -seemed to comprehend the feelings of Marlow and Emily; but her father -understood them least. He had consented to their union: he approved of -her choice; but yet it seemed strange and unpleasant to him, that her -thoughts should be so completely given to her lover. He could hardly -believe that the intense affection she felt for another, was -compatible with love towards her parent. He knew not, or seemed to -have forgotten that the ordinance to leave all and cleave unto her -husband, is written in woman's heart as plainly as in the Book.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, that which he felt was not the least like -jealousy--although I have seen such a thing even in a parent towards a -child. It was a part of the problem of Emily's character, which he was -always trying to solve without success.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here," he thought, "she has known this young man, but a short -time--no years--not very many months; and yet, it is clear, that in -that short space, she has learned to love him better than those to -whom she is bound by every tie of long enduring affection and -tenderness."</p> - -<p class="normal">Had he thought of comparing at all, her conduct and feelings with -those of his own youth, he would still have marvelled; for he would -have said, "I had no tenderness shown me in my young days--I was not -the companion, the friend, the idol, the peculiar loved one of father -or mother, so long as my elder brother lived. I loved her who first -really loved me. From _my parents_, I had met small affection, and but -little kindness. It was therefore natural that I should fix my love -elsewhere, as they had fixed theirs. But with my child, the case is -very different."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet he loved Marlow well--was fond of his society--was well pleased -that he was to be his daughter's husband; but even in his case, Mr. -Hastings was surprised in a certain degree; for Marlow did not, and -could not conceal that he loved Emily's society better than her -father's--that he would rather a great deal be with her than with -Brutus himself or Cato.</p> - -<p class="normal">This desire on the part of Marlow to be ever by her side, was a great -stumbling-block in the way of Mr. Hastings' schemes for re-educating -Marlow, and giving that strength and vigor to his character of which -his future father-in-law had thought it susceptible. He made very -little progress, and perhaps Marlow's society might even have had some -influence upon him--might have softened--mitigated his character; but -that there were counteracting influences continually at work.</p> - -<p class="normal">All that had lately happened--the loss of fortune and of station--the -dark and irritating suspicions which had been instilled into his mind -in regard to his child's conduct--the doubts which had been produced -of her frankness and candor--the fact before his eyes, that she loved -another better, far better, than himself, with a kind word, now and -then, from Mrs. Hazleton, spoken to drive the dart deeper into his -heart, had rendered him somewhat morose and gloomy,--apt to take a bad -view of other people's actions, and to judge less fairly than he -always wished to judge. When Marlow hastened away from him to rejoin -Emily, and paint, with her, in all the brightest colors of -imagination, a picture of the glowing future, her father would walk -solitary and thoughtful, giving himself up to dark and unprofitable -reveries.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hastings in the mean time would take counsel with Mrs. Hazleton, -and they would settle between them that the father was already -dissatisfied with the engagement he had aided to bring about, and that -a little persevering opposition on the part of the mother, would -ultimately bring that engagement to an end.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hastings, too, thought--or rather seemed to feel, for she did not -reduce it to thought--that she had now a greater right to exercise -some authority in regard to her daughter's marriage, as Emily's whole -fortune must proceed from her own property. She ventured to oppose -more boldly, and to express her opinion against the marriage, both to -her husband and her child. It was against the advice of Mrs. Hazleton -that she did so; for that lady knew Mr. Hastings far better than his -own wife knew him; and while Emily's cheek burned, and her eye swam in -tears, Mr. Hastings replied in so stern and bitter a tone that Mrs. -Hastings shrunk back alarmed at what she herself had done.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the word had been spoken: the truth revealed. Both Mr. Hastings -and Emily were thenceforth aware that she wished the engagement -between her daughter and Marlow broken off--she was opposed to the -marriage; and would oppose it.</p> - -<p class="normal">The effect of this revelation of her views upon her child and her -husband, was very different. Emily had colored with surprise and -grief--not, as her father thought, with anger; and she resolved -thenceforth to endeavor to soften her mother's feelings towards him -she loved, and to win her consent to that upon which all her own -happiness depended; but in which her own happiness could not be -complete without a mother's approbation.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Hastings, on the contrary, entertained no expectation that his -wife would ever change her views, even if she changed her course. Some -knowledge--some comprehension of her character had been forced upon -him during the many years of their union; and he believed that, if all -open remonstrance, and declared opposition had been crushed by his -sharp and resolute answer, there would nevertheless be continual or -ever recurring efforts on Mrs. Hastings' part, to have her own way, -and thwart both his purposes and Emily's affection. He prepared to -encounter that sort of irritating guerrilla warfare of last words, and -sneers, and innuendoes, by which a wife sometimes endeavors to -overcome a husband's resolutions; and he hardened himself to resist. -He knew that she could not conquer in the strife; but he determined to -put an end to the warfare, either by some decided expression of his -anger at such proceedings, or by uniting Emily to Marlow, much sooner -than he had at first proposed.</p> - -<p class="normal">The latter seemed the easiest method, and there was a great chance of -the marriage, which it had been agreed should be delayed till Emily -was nineteen, taking place much earlier, when events occurred which -produced even a longer delay.</p> - -<p class="normal">One of the first steps taken by Mr. Hastings to show his wife that her -unreasonable opposition would have no effect upon him, was not only to -remove the prohibition of those lovers' rambles which Mrs. Hastings -had forbidden, but to send his daughter and her promised husband forth -together on any pretext that presented itself. He took the opportunity -of doing so, first, when his wife was present, and on the impulse of -the moment, she ventured to object. One look--one word from her -husband, however, silenced her; for they were a look and word too -stern to be trifled with, and Emily went to dress for her walk; but -she went with the tears in her eyes. She was grieved to find that all -that appertained to her happiness was likely to become a cause of -dissension between her father and her mother. Had Marlow not been -concerned--had his happiness not been also at stake--she would have -sacrificed any thing--every thing--to avoid such a result; but she -felt she had no right to yield to caprice, where he was to suffer as -well as herself.</p> - -<p class="normal">The walk took place, and it might have been very sweet to both, had -not the scene which had immediately preceded poured a drop of -bitterness into their little cup of joy. Such walks were often renewed -during the month that followed; but Emily was not so happy as she -might have been; for she saw that her father assumed a sterner, colder -tone towards his wife, and believed that she might be the unwilling -cause of this painful alienation. She knew not that it proceeded -partly from another source--that Mr. Hastings had discovered, or -divined, that his wife had some feeling of increased power and -authority from the fact of his having lost his large estates, and of -her property being all that remained to them both.</p> - -<p class="normal">Poor Emily! Marlow's love, that dream of joy, seemed destined to -produce, for a time at least, nothing but grief and anxiety. Her -reveries became more frequent, and more deep, and though her lover -could call her from them in a moment, no one else had the power.</p> - -<p class="normal">One day, Marlow and his Emily--for whom every day his love increased; -for he knew and comprehended her perfectly, and he was the only -one--had enjoyed a more happy and peaceful ramble than usual, through -green lanes, and up the hill, and amidst the bright scenery which lay -on the confines of the two counties, and they returned slowly towards -the house, not anticipating much comfort there. As they approached, -they saw from the road a carriage standing before the door, dusty, as -if from a long journey, but with the horses still attached. There were -three men, too, with the carriage, besides the driver, and they were -walking their horses up and down the terrace, as if their stay was to -be but short. It was an unusual number of attendants, even in those -days, to accompany a carriage in the country, except upon some visit -of great ceremony; and the vehicle itself--a large, old, rumbling -coach, which had seen better days--gave no indication of any great -state or dignity on the part of its owner.</p> - -<p class="normal">Why, she knew not, but a feeling of fear, or at least anxiety, came -over Emily as she gazed, and turning to Marlow, she said, "Who can -these visitors be?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not, indeed, dear love," he answered, "but the equipage is -somewhat strange. Were we in France," he added, with a laugh, "I -should think it belonged to an exempt, bearing a _lettre de cachet_."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily smiled also, for the idea of her, father having incurred the -anger of any government or violated any law seemed to her quite out of -the question.</p> - -<p class="normal">When they approached the door, however, they were met by a servant, -with a grave and anxious countenance, who told her that her father -wished to see her immediately in the dining hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is there any one with him?" asked Emily, in some surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, Mistress Emily," replied the man, "there is a strange gentleman -with him. But you had better go in at once; for I am afraid things are -not going well."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow drew her arm through his, and pressed it gently to make her -feel support; and then went into the eating-room, as it was usually -called, by her side.</p> - -<p class="normal">When they entered they found the scene a strange and painful one. Mr. -Hastings was seated near a window, with his hat on, and his cloak cast -down on a chair beside him. His wife was placed near him, weeping -bitterly; and at the large table in the middle of the room was a -coarse-looking man, in the garb of a gentleman, but with no other -indication but that of dress of belonging to a superior class. He was -very corpulent, and his face, though shadowed by an enormous wig, was -large and bloated. There was food and wine before him, and to both he -seemed to be doing ample justice, without taking any notice of the -master of the house or his weeping lady.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Hastings, however, rose and advanced towards his daughter, as soon -as she entered, and in an instant the eye of the gormandizing guest -was raised from his plate and turned towards the party, with a look of -eager suspicion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, my dear father, what is this?" exclaimed Emily, running towards -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"One of those accidents of life, my child," replied Mr. Hastings, "from -which I had hoped to be exempt--most foolishly. But it seems," he -continued, "no conduct, however reserved, can shield one from the -unjust suspicions of princes and governments."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very good cause for suspicion, sir," said the man at the table, -quaffing a large glass of wine. "Mr. Secretary would not have signed a -warrant without strong evidence. Vernon is a cautious man, sir, a very -cautious man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And who is this person?" asked Marlow pointing to the personage who -spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A messenger of the powers that be," replied Mr. Hastings; "it seems -that because Sir John Fenwick dined here a short time ago, and has -since been accused of some practices against the state, his Majesty's -advisers have thought fit to connect me with his doings, or their own -suspicions, though they might as well have sent down to arrest my -butler or my footman, and I am now to have the benefit of a journey to -the Tower of London under arrest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Or to Newgate," said the messenger, significantly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To London, at all events," replied Mr. Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will go with you," said Marlow, at once; but before the prisoner -could answer, the messenger interfered, saying, "That I cannot allow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am afraid you must allow it," replied Marlow, "whether it pleases -you or not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will have no one in the carriage with my prisoner," said the -messenger, striking the table gently with the haft of his knife.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That may be," answered Marlow; "but you will not, I presume, pretend -to prevent my going where I please in my own carriage; and when once -in London, I shall find no difficulty, knowing Mr. Vernon well."</p> - -<p class="normal">The latter announcement made a great change in the messenger's -demeanor, and he became much more tame and docile from the moment it -struck his ear.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Hastings indeed would fain have persuaded his young friend to -remain where he was, and looked at Emily with some of that tenderer -feeling of a parent which so often prompts to every sacrifice for a -child's sake. But Emily thanked Marlow eagerly for proposing to go; -and Mrs. Hastings, even, expressed some gratitude.</p> - -<p class="normal">The arrangements were soon made. There being no time to send for -Marlow's own carriage and horses, it was agreed that he should take a -carriage belonging to Mr. Hastings, with his horses, for the first -stage; the prisoner's valet was to accompany his friend, and immediate -orders were given for the necessary preparations.</p> - -<p class="normal">When all was ready, Emily asked some question of her father, in a low -tone, to which he replied, "On no account, my child. I will send for -you and your mother should need be; but do not stir before I do. This -is a mere cloud--a passing shower, which will soon be gone, and leave -the sky as bright as ever. We do not live in an age when kings of -England can play at foot-ball with the heads of innocent men, and I, -as you all know, am innocent."</p> - -<p class="normal">He then embraced his wife and child with more tenderness than he was -wont to show, and entering the carriage first, was followed by the -messenger. The other men mounted their horses, and Marlow did not -linger long behind the sad cavalcade.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXIX.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Philip Hastings had calculated much upon his Roman firmness; -and he -could have borne death, or any great and sudden calamity, with -fortitude; but small evils often affect us more than great ones. He -knew not what it is to suffer long imprisonment, to undergo the -wearing, grinding process of life within a prison's walls. He knew not -the effect of long suspense either, of the fretful impatience for some -turn in our fate, of the dull monotony of long continued expectation -and protracted disappointment, of the creeping on of leaden despair, -which craves nothing in the end but some change, be it for better or -for worse.</p> - -<p class="normal">They took him to Newgate--the prison of common felons, and there, in a -small room, strictly guarded, he remained for more than two months. At -first he would send for no lawyer, for he fancied that there must -either be some error on the part of the government, or that the -suspicion against him must be so slight as to be easily removable. But -day went by on day, and hour followed hour, without any appearance of -a change in his fate. There came a great alteration, however, in his -character. He became morose, gloomy, irritable. Every dark point in -his own fate and history--every painful event which had occurred for -many years--every doubt or suspicion which had spread gloom and -anxiety through his mind, was now magnified a thousand-fold by long, -brooding, solitary meditation. He pondered such things daily, hourly, -in the broad day, in the dead, still night, when want of exercise -deprived him of sleep, till his brain seemed to turn, and his whole -heart was filled with stern bitterness.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow, who visited him every day by permission of the Secretary of -State, found him each day much changed, both in appearance and -manner; and even his conversation gave but small relief. He heard with -small emotion the news of the day, or of his own family. He read the -letters of his wife and daughter coldly. He heard even the -intelligence that Sir John Fenwick was condemned for high treason, and -to die on a scaffold, without any appearance of interest. He remained -self-involved and thoughtful.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, after a long interval--for the government was undecided how -to proceed in his and several other cases connected with that famous -conspiracy--a day was appointed for his first examination by the -Secretary of State; for matters were then conducted in a very -different manner from that in which they are treated at present; and -he was carried under guard to Whitehall.</p> - -<p class="normal">Vernon was a calm and not unamiable man; and treating the prisoner -with unaffected gentleness, he told him that the government was very -anxious to avoid the effusion of any more blood, and expressed a hope -that Mr. Hastings would afford such explanations of his conduct as -would save the pain of proceeding against him. He did not wish by any -means, he said, to induce him to criminate himself; but merely to give -such explanations as he might think fit.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip Hastings replied, with stern bitterness, that before he could -give any explanations, he must learn what there was in his conduct to -explain. "It has ever been open, plain, and straightforward," he said. -"I have taken no part in conspiracies, very little part in politics. I -have nothing to fear from any thing I myself can utter; for I have -nothing to conceal. Tell me what is the charge against me, and I will -answer it boldly. Ask what questions you please; and I will reply at -once to those to which I can find a reply in my own knowledge."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought the nature of the charge had been made fully known to you," -replied Vernon. "However, it is soon stated. You are charged, Mr. -Hastings, with having taken a most decided part in the criminal -designs, if not in the criminal acts, of that unfortunate man Sir John -Fenwick. Nay, of having first suggested to him the darkest of all his -designs, namely, the assassination of his Majesty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I suggest the assassination of the King!" exclaimed Mr. Hastings. "I -propose such an act! Sir, the charge is ridiculous. Has not the only -share I ever took in politics been to aid in placing King William upon -the throne, and consistently to support his government since? What the -ministers of the crown can seek by bringing such a charge against me, -I know not; but it is evidently fictitious, and of course has an -object."</p> - -<p class="normal">Vernon's cheek grew somewhat red, and he replied warmly, "That is an -over-bold assertion, sir. But I will soon satisfy you that it is -unjust, and that the crown has not acted without cause. Allow me, -then, to tell you, that no sooner had the conspiracy of Sir John -Fenwick been detected, and his apprehension been made known, than -information was privately given--from your own part of the country--to -the following effect;" and he proceeded try to read from a paper, -which had evidently been folded in the form of a letter, the ensuing -words: "That on the ---- day of May last, when walking in the gardens -of his own house, called 'The Court,' he--that is yourself, sir--used -the following language to Sir John Fenwick: 'When no other means can -be found of obtaining justice, freedom, and security, I see no reason -why a king should not be put to death as well as any other man. He who -does the deed merits a monument rather than a gibbet.' Such was the -information, sir, on which government first acted in causing your -apprehension."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Secretary paused, and for a few moments Mr. Hastings remained -gazing down in silence, like a man utterly confounded. Vernon thought -he had touched him home; but the emotions in the prisoner's bosom, -though very violent, were very different from those which the -Secretary attributed to him. He remembered the conversation well, but -he remembered also that the only one who, besides Sir John Fenwick, -was with him at the moment, was his own child. I will not dwell upon -his feelings, but they absorbed him entirely, till the Secretary went -on, saying--"Not satisfied with such slender information, Mr. -Hastings, the government caused that unhappy criminal, Sir John -Fenwick, to be asked, after his fate was fixed, if he recollected your -having used those words to him, and he replied, something very like -them.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I reply the same," exclaimed Philip Hastings, sternly. "I did use -those words, or words very like them. But, sir, they were in -connection with others, which, had they been repeated likewise, would -have taken all criminal application from them. May I be permitted to -look at that letter in your hand, to see how much was really told, how -much suppressed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have read it all to you," said Mr. Vernon, "but you may look at it -if you please," and he handed it to him across the table. Philip -Hastings spread it out before him, trembling violently, and then drew -another letter from his pocket, and laid them aide by side. He ran his -eye from one to the other for a moment or two, and then sunk slowly -down, fainting upon the floor.</p> - -<p class="normal">While a turnkey and one of the messengers raised him, and some efforts -were made to bring him back to consciousness, Mr. Vernon walked round -the table and looked at the two letters which were still lying on it. -He compared them eagerly, anxiously. The handwriting of the one was -very similar to that of the other, and in the beginning of that which -Mr. Hastings had taken from his pocket, the Secretary found the words, -"My dear father." It was signed, "Emily Hastings;" and Vernon -instantly comprehended the nature of the terrible emotion he had -witnessed.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was really, as I have said, a kind and humane man, and he felt very -much for the prisoner, who was speedily brought to himself again, and -seated in a chair before the table.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps, Mr. Hastings," said Vernon, "we had better not protract this -conversation today. I will see you again to-morrow, at this hour, if -you would prefer that arrangement."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not at all, sir," answered the prisoner, "I will answer now, for -though the body be weak, the spirit is strong. Remember, however, that -I am not pleading for life. Life is valueless to me. The block and axe -would be a relief. I am only pleading to prevent my own character from -being stained, and to frustrate this horrible design. I used the words -imputed to me; but if I recollect right, with several qualifications, -even in the sentence which has been extracted. But before that, many -other words had passed which entirely altered the whole bearing of the -question. The conversation began about the regicides of the great -rebellion, and although my father was of the party in arms against the -King, I expressed my unqualified disapprobation of their conduct in -putting their sovereign to death. I then approached as a mere matter -of abstract reasoning, in which, perhaps, I am too apt to indulge, the -subject of man's right to resist by any means an unendurable tyranny, -and I quoted the example of Brutus and William Tell; and it was in the -course of these abstract remarks, that I used the words which have -been cited. I give you my word, however, and pledge my honor, that I -entertained no thought, and had no cause whatever to believe that Sir -John Fenwick who was dining with me as an old acquaintance, -entertained hostile designs against the government of his native -land."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your admitted opinions, Mr. Hastings," said Vernon, "seem to me to be -very dangerous ones."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That may be," replied the prisoner, "but in this country at least, -sir, you cannot kill a man for opinions."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No; but those opinions, expressed in conversation with others who -proceed to acts," replied Vernon, "place a man in a very dangerous -position, Mr. Hastings. I will not conceal from you that you are in -some peril; but at the same time I am inclined to think that the -evidence, without your admissions this day, might prove insufficient, -and it is not my intention to take advantage of any thing you have -said. I shall report to his Majesty accordingly; but the proceedings -of the government will be guided by the opinion of the law officers of -the crown, and not by mine. I therefore can assure you of nothing -except my sincere grief at the situation in which you are placed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I little heed the result of your report, sir," replied Mr. Hastings; -"life, I say, is valueless to me, and if I am brought to trial for -words very innocently spoken, I shall only make the same defence I -have done this day, and I shall call no witness; the only witness of -the whole," he added with stern, concentrated bitterness, "is probably -on the side of the crown."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Hastings was then removed to Newgate, leaving the two letters on -the table behind him, and as soon as he was gone, Mr. Vernon sent a -messenger to an inn near Charing Cross, to say he should be glad to -speak for a few moments with Mr. Marlow. In about half an hour Marlow -was there, and was received by Vernon as an old acquaintance. The door -was immediately closed, and Marlow seated himself near the table, -turning his eyes away, however, as an honorable man from the papers -which lay on it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have had an interview with your friend, Mr. Marlow," said the -Secretary, "and the scene has been a very gainful one. Mr. Hastings -has been more affected than I expected, and actually fainted."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow's face expressed unutterable astonishment, for the idea of -Philip Hastings fainting under any apprehension whatever, could never -enter into the mind of any one who knew him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good God!" he exclaimed, "what could be the cause of that! Not fear, -I am sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Something more painful than even fear, I believe," replied Mr. -Vernon; "Mr. Hastings has a daughter, I believe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, sir, he has," replied Marlow, somewhat stiffly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you know her handwriting?" asked the Secretary.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, perfectly well," answered Marlow.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then be so good as to take up that letter next you," said Vernon, -"and tell me if it is in her hand."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow took up the paper, glanced at it, and at once said, "Yes;" but -the next instant he corrected himself, saying, "No, no--it is very -like Emily's hand--very, very like; but more constrained."</p> - -<p class="normal">"May not that proceed from an attempt to disguise her hand?" asked -Vernon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Or from an attempt on the part of some other to imitate it," rejoined -Marlow; "but this is very strange, Mr. Vernon; may I read this -through?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Certainly," replied the Secretary, and Marlow read every word three -or four times over with eager attention. They seemed to affect him -very much, for notwithstanding the Secretary's presence, he started up -and paced the room for a minute or two in thought.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must unravel this dark mystery," he said at length. "Mr. Vernon, -there have been strange things taking place lately in the family of -Mr. Hastings. Things which have created in my mind a suspicion that -some secret and external agency is at work to destroy his peace as -well as to ruin his happiness, and still more, I fear, to ruin the -happiness of his daughter. This letter is but one link in a long chain -of suspicious facts, and I am resolved to sift the whole matter to the -bottom. The time allowed me to do so, must depend upon the course you -determine to pursue towards Mr. Hastings. If you resolve to proceed -against him I must lose no time--although I think I need hardly say, -there is small chance of your success upon such evidence as this;" and -he struck the letter with his fingers.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We have more evidence, such as it is," replied Vernon, "and he -himself admits having used those words."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow paused thoughtfully, and then replied, "He may have used -them--he is very likely to have used them; but it must have been quite -abstractedly, and with no reference to any existing circumstance. I -remember the occasion on which Sir John Fenwick dined with him, -perfectly. I was there myself. Now let me see if I can recall all the -facts. Yes, I can, distinctly. During the whole of dinner--during the -short time we sat after dinner, those words were never used; nor were -conspiracies and treason ever thought of. I remember, too, from a -particular circumstance, that when we went out into the gardens Mr. -Hastings took his daughter's arm, and walked up and down the terrace -with Sir John Fenwick at his side. That must have been the moment. But -I need hardly point out to you, Mr. Vernon, that such was not a time -when any man in his senses, and especially a shrewd, cunning, timid -man, like Sir John Fenwick, would have chosen for the development of -treasonable designs."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Were any other persons near?" asked Vernon; "the young lady might -have been in the conspiracy as well as her father."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow laughed. "There were a dozen near," he answered; "they were -subject to interruption at any moment--nay, they could not have gone -on for three minutes; for that space of time did not elapse after the -gentlemen entered the garden where the ladies were, before I was at -Emily's side, and not one word of this kind was spoken afterwards."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then what could have induced her to report those words to the -government?" asked Mr. Vernon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She never did so," replied Marlow, earnestly; "this is not her -handwriting, though the imitation is very good--and now, sir," he -continued, "if it be proper, will you explain to me what course you -intend to pursue, that I may act accordingly? For as I before said, I -am resolved to search this mystery out into its darkest recesses. It -has gone on too long already."</p> - -<p class="normal">Vernon smiled. "You are asking a good deal," he said, "but yet my -views are so strong upon the subject, that I think I may venture to -state them, even if the case against Mr. Hastings should be carried a -step or two farther--which might be better, in order to insure his not -being troubled on an after occasion. I shall strongly advise that a -_nolle prosequi_ be entered, and I think I may add that my advice will -be taken."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You think I have asked much already, Mr. Vernon," said Marlow, "but I -am now going to ask more. Will you allow me to have this letter? I -give you my word of honor that it shall only be used for the purposes -of justice. You have known me from my boyhood, my dear sir; you can -trust me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perfectly, my young friend," replied Vernon, "but you must not take -the letter to-day. In two days the action of the government will be -determined, and if it be such as I anticipate you shall have the -paper, and I trust it will lead to some discovery of the motives and -circumstances of this strange transaction. Most mysterious it -certainly is; for one can hardly suppose any one but a fiend thus -seeking to bring a father's life into peril."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A fiend!" exclaimed Marlow, with a scoff, "much more like an angel, -my dear sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You seem to think so," said Vernon, smiling, "and I trust, though -love is blind, he may have left you clear-sighted in this instance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think he has," answered Marlow, "and as this young lady's fate is -soon to be united to mine, it is very necessary I should see clearly. -I entertain no doubt, indeed, and I say boldly, that Emily never wrote -this letter. It will give me, however, a clue which perhaps may lead -me to the end of the labyrinth, though as yet I hardly see my way. But -a strong resolution often does much.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Might it not be better for you," asked Vernon, "to express your -doubts in regard to this letter to Mr. Hastings himself? He was -terribly affected, as well he might be, when he saw this document, and -believed it to be his own child's writing."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow mused for some time ere he replied. "I think not," he answered -at length; "he is a man of peculiar disposition; stern, somewhat -gloomy, but honorable, upright, and candid. Now what I am going to say -may make me appear as stern as himself, but if he is suffering from -doubts of that dear girl, knowing her as well as he does, he is -suffering from his own fault, and deserves it. However, my object is -not to punish him, but thoroughly, completely, and for ever to open -his eyes, and to show him so strongly that he has done his child -injustice, as to prevent his ever doing the like again. This can only -be done by bringing all the proofs upon him at once, and my task is -now to gather them together. To my mere opinion regarding the -handwriting, he would not give the slightest heed, but he will not -shut his eyes to proofs. May I calculate upon having the letter in two -days?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think you may," replied Vernon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then when will Mr. Hastings be set free?" asked Marlow; "I should -wish to have some start of him into the country."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will depend upon various circumstances," replied the Secretary; -"I think we shall take some steps towards the trial before we enter -the _nolle prosequi_. It is necessary to check in some way the -expression of such very dangerous opinions as he entertains."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow made no reply but by a smile, and they soon after parted.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXX.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton was very consoling. She was with Mrs. Hastings -two or -three times in the week, and poor Mrs. Hastings required a -considerable degree of consolation; for the arrest of her husband, -coming so close upon the bitter mortification of loss, and abatement -of dignity, and at the end of a long period of weak health, had made -her seriously ill. She now kept her bed the whole day long, and lay, -making herself worse by that sort of fretful anxiety which was -constitutional with her as well as with many other people. Mrs. -Hazleton's visits were a great comfort to her, and yet, strange to -say, Emily almost always found her more irritable after that lady had -left her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Poor Emily seemed to shine under the cloud of misfortune. Her -character came out and acted nobly in the midst of disasters. She was -her mother's nurse and constant attendant; she kept her father -informed of every thing that passed--not an opportunity was missed of -sending him a letter; and although she would have made any sacrifice -to be with him in prison, to comfort and support him in the peril and -sorrow of his situation, she was well satisfied that he had not taken -her, when she found the state into which her mother had fallen.</p> - -<p class="normal">Often, after Mrs. Hazleton had sat for an hour or two with her sick -friend, she would come down and walk upon the terrace for a while with -Emily, and comfort her much in the same way that she did Mrs. -Hastings. She would tell her not to despond about her mother: that -though she was certainly very ill, and in a dangerous state, yet -people had recovered who had been quite as ill as she was. Then she -would talk about lungs, and nerves, and humors, and all kinds of -painful and mortal diseases, as if she had studied medicine all her -life; and she did it, too, with a quiet, dignified gravity which made -it more impressive and alarming. Then again, she would turn to the -situation of Mr. Hastings, and wonder what they would do with him. She -would also bring every bit of news that she could collect, regarding -the case of Sir John Fenwick, especially when the intelligence was -painful and disastrous; but she hinted that, perhaps, after all, they -might not be able to prove any thing against Mr. Hastings, and that -even if they did--although the Government were inclined to be -severe--they might, perhaps, commute his sentence to transportation -for the colonies, or imprisonment in the Tower for five or six years.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is thus our friends often console us; some of them, from a dark and -gloomy turn of mind, and some of them from the satisfaction many -people feel in meddling with the miseries of others. But it was -neither natural despondency of character, nor any general love of -sorrowful scenes or thoughts, that moved Mrs. Hazleton in the present -instance. She had a peculiar and especial pleasure in the wretchedness -of the Hastings family, and particularly in that of Emily. The -charming lady fancied that if Marlow were free from his engagement -with Emily the next day, and a suitor for her own hand, she would -never think of marrying him. I am not quite sure of that fact, but -that is no business of ours, dear reader, and one thing is certain, -that she would have very willingly sacrificed one half of her whole -fortune, nay more, to have placed an everlasting barrier between Emily -and Marlow.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was thus walking with her dear Emily, as she called her, one day -on that terrace at the back of the house where the memorable -conversation had taken place between Mr. Hastings and Sir John -Fenwick, and was treating Emily to a minute and particular account of -the death of the latter, when Marlow suddenly arrived from London, and -entered the house by the large glass door in front. He found a servant -in the hall who informed him that Mrs. Hastings was still in bed, and -that Emily was walking on the terrace with Mrs. Hazleton. Marlow -paused, and considered for a moment. "Any thing not dishonorable," he -said to himself, "is justifiable to clear up such a mystery;" and -passing quietly through the house into the dining-room, which had one -window opening as a door upon the terrace, he saw his fair Emily and -her companion pass along towards the other end of the walk without -being himself perceived. He then approached the window, and -calculating the distances nicely, so as to be sure that Mrs. Hazelton -was fully as far distant from himself as she could have been from Sir -John Fenwick and Mr. Hastings on the evening when they walked there -together, he pronounced her name in an ordinary tone, somewhat lower -than that which Mr. Hastings usually employed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton instantly started, and looked round towards the spot -where Marlow was now emerging from the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady could not miss an occasion, and the moment she saw him she -exclaimed, "Dear me! there is Mr. Marlow; I am afraid he brings bad -tidings, Emily."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily paused not to consider, but with her own wild grace ran forward -and cast herself into his arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fortunately Mrs. Hazleton had no dagger with her. Her face was -benevolent and smiling when she joined them; for the joy there was -upon Emily's countenance forbade any affectation of apprehension. It -said as plainly as possible, "All is well;" but she added the words -too, stretching forth her hand to her supposed friend, and saying, -"Dear Mrs. Hazleton, Charles brings me word that my father is -safe--that the Government have declared they will not prosecute."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I congratulate you with my whole heart, Emily," replied the lady; -"and I do sincerely hope that ministers may keep their word better in -this instance than they have done in some others."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is not the slightest doubt of it, my dear madam," said Marlow; -"for I have the official announcement under the hand of the Secretary -of State."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must fly and tell my mother," said Emily, and without waiting for a -reply she darted away.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton took a turn or two up and down the terrace with Marlow, -considering whether it was at all possible for her to be of any -further comfort to her friends at the Court. As she could not stay all -night, however, so as to prevent Emily and Marlow from having any -happy private conversation together, and as she judged that, in their -present joy, they would a good deal forget conventional restraints, -and give way to their lover-like feelings even in her presence, which -would be exceedingly disagreeable to her, she soon re-entered the -house, and ordered her carriage. It must be acknowledged that both -Emily and Marlow were well satisfied to see her depart, and it is not -to be wondered at if they gave themselves up for half an hour to the -pleasure of meeting again.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the end of that time, however, Marlow drew forth a letter from his -pocket, carefully folded, so that a line or two only was apparent, and -placing it before Emily, inquired if she knew the hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is mine," said Emily, at first; but the moment after she exclaimed -"No!--it is not; it is Mrs. Hazleton's. I know it by the peculiar way -she forms the _g_ and the _y_.--Stay, let me see, Marlow. She has not -done so always; but that _g_, and that _y_, I am quite certain of. Why -do you ask, Marlow?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For reasons of the utmost importance, dear Emily," he answered, "have -you any letters or notes of Mrs. Hazleton's?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, there is one which came yesterday," replied Emily; "it is lying -on my table upstairs."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bring it--bring it, dearest girl," he said; "I wish very much to see -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">When he had got, he examined it with a well-pleased smile, and then -said, with a laugh, "I must impound this, my love. I am now on the -right track, and will not leave it till I have arrived at perfect -certainty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are very strange and mysterious to-day, Marlow," said the -beautiful girl, "what does all this mean?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It means, my love," replied Marlow, "that I have very dark doubts and -suspicions of Mrs. Hazleton,--and all I have seen and heard to-day -confirms me. Now sit down here by me, dear Emily, and tell me if, to -your knowledge, you have ever given to Mrs. Hazleton cause of -offence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never!" answered Emily, firmly and at once. "Never in my life."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow mused, and then, with his arms round her waist, he continued, -"Bethink yourself, my love. Within the course of the last two or three -years, have you ever seen reason to believe that Mrs. Hazleton's -affection for you is not so great as it appears?--Has it ever -wavered?--Has it ever become doubtful to you from any stray word or -accidental circumstance?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily was silent for a moment, and then replied, thoughtfully, -"Perhaps I did think so, once or twice, when I was staying at her -house, last year."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, now, dear Emily," said Marlow, "tell me every thing down -to the most minute circumstance that occurred there."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily hesitated. "Perhaps I ought not," she said; "Mrs. Hazleton -showed me, very strongly, that I ought not, except under an absolute -necessity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That necessity is now, my love," replied Marlow; "love cannot exist -without confidence, Emily; and I tell you, upon my honor and my faith, -that your happiness, my happiness, and even your father's safety, -depends in a great degree upon your telling me all. Do you believe me, -Emily?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fully," she answered; "and I will tell you all."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus seated together, she poured forth the whole tale to her lover's -ears, even to the circumstances which had occurred in her own room, -when Mrs. Hazleton had entered it, walking in her sleep. The whole -conduct of John Ayliffe, now calling himself Sir John Hastings, was -also displayed; and the dark and treacherous schemes which had been -going on, began gradually to evolve themselves to Marlow's mind. -Obscure and indistinct they still were; but the gloomy shadow was -apparent, and he could trace the outline though he could not fill up -the details.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Base, treacherous woman!" he murmured to himself, and then, pressing -Emily more closely to his heart, he thanked her again and again for -her frankness. "I will never misuse it, my Emily," he said; "and no -one shall ever know what you have told me except your father: to him -it must be absolutely revealed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would have told him myself," said Emily, "if he had ever asked me -any questions on the subject; but as he did not, and seemed very -gloomy just then, I thought it better to follow Mrs. Hazleton's -advice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The worst and the basest she could have given you," said Marlow; "I -have had doubts of her for a long time, Emily, but I have no doubts -now; and, moreover, I firmly believe that the whole case of this John -Ayliffe--his claim upon your father's estate and title--is all false -and factitious together, supported by fraud, forgery, and crime. Have -you preserved this young man's letter, or have you destroyed it, -Emily?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I kept it," she replied, "thinking that, some time or another, I -might have to show it to my father."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then one more mark of confidence, my love," said Marlow; "let me have -that letter. I do not wish to read it; therefore you had better fold -it up and seal it; but it may be necessary as a link in the chain of -evidence which I wish to bring forward for your father's -satisfaction."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Read it, if you will, Marlow," she answered; "I have told you the -contents, but it may be as well that you should see the words: I will -bring it to you in a moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">They read the letter over together, and when Marlow had concluded, he -laid his hand upon it, saying, "This is Mrs. Hazleton's composition."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'm almost inclined to fancy so, myself," answered Emily.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is incapable of writing this," replied her lover; "I have seen his -letters on matters of business, and he cannot write a plain sentence -in English to an end without making some gross mistake. This is Mrs. -Hazleton's doing, and there is some dark design underneath it. Would -to God that visit had never taken place!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There has been little happiness in the house since," said Emily, -"except what you and I have known together, Marlow; and that has been -sadly checkered by many a painful circumstance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The clouds are breaking, dear one," replied Marlow, rising; "but I -will not pause one moment in my course till all this is made -clear--no, not even for the delight of sitting here by you, my love. I -will go home at once, Emily; mount my horse, and ride over to Hartwell -before it be dark."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is your object there?" asked Emily.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To unravel one part of this mystery," replied her lover. "I will -ascertain, by some means, from whom, or in what way, this young man -obtained sufficient money to commence and carry on a very expensive -suit at law. That he had it not himself, I am certain. That his -chances were not sufficiently good, when first he commenced, to induce -any lawyer to take the risk, I am equally certain. He must have had it -from some one, and my suspicions point to Mrs. Hazleton. Her bankers -are mine, and I will find means to know. So, now, farewell, my love; I -will see you again early to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">He lingered yet for a moment or two, and then left her.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Marlow was soon on horseback, and riding on to the country -town. But -he had lingered longer with Emily than he imagined, and the day -declined visibly as he rode along.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The business hours are over," he thought; "bankers and lawyers will -have abandoned the money-getting and mischief-making toils of the day; -and I must stay at the inn till to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">He had been riding fast; but he now drew in his rein, and suffered his -horse to walk. The sun was setting gloriously, and the rich, rosy -light, diffused through the air, gave every thing an aspect of warmth, -and richness, and cheerfulness. But Marlow's heart was any thing but -gay. Whether it was that the scenes which he had passed through in -London, his visits to a prison, his dealings with hard official men, -the toiling, moiling crowds that had surrounded him; the wearisome, -eternal, yet ever-changing struggle of life displayed in the streets -and houses of a capital, the infinite varieties of selfishness, and -folly, and vice, and crime, had depressed his spirits, or that his -health had somewhat suffered in consequence of anxious waiting for -events in the foul air of the metropolis, I cannot tell. But certain, -he was sadder than was usual with him. His was a spirit strong and -active, naturally disposed to bright views and happy hopes, too firm -to be easily depressed, too elastic to be long kept down. But yet, as -he rode along, there was a sort of feeling of apprehension upon his -mind that oppressed him mightily. He revolved all that had lately -passed. He compared the state of Mr. Hastings' family, as it actually -was, with what it had been when he first knew it, and there seemed to -be a strange mystery in the change. It had then been all happiness and -prosperity with that household; a calm, grave, thoughtful, but happy -father and husband; a bright, amiable, affectionate mother and wife; a -daughter, to his mind the image of every thing that was sweet, and -gentle, and tender--of every thing that was gay, and sparkling, and -cheerful; full of light and life, and fancy, and hope. Now, there was -a father in prison, deprived of his greatest share of worldly -prosperity, cast down from his station in society, gloomy, desponding, -suspicious, and, as it seemed to him, hardly sane: a mother, -irritable, capricious, peevish, yielding to calamity, and lying on a -bed of sickness, while the bright angel of his love remained to nurse, -and tend, and soothe the one parent, with a heart torn and bleeding -for the distresses of the other. "What have they done to merit all -this?" he asked himself. "What fault, what crime have they committed -to draw down such sorrows on their heads? None--none whatever. Their -lives had been spent in kindly acts and good deeds; they had followed -the precepts of the religion they professed; their lives had been -spent in doing service to their fellow-creatures, and making all happy -around them."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then again, on the other hand, he saw the coarse, and the low, and the -base, and the licentious prosperous and successful, rising on the -ruins of the pure and the true. Wily schemes and villanous intrigues -obtaining every advantage, and honesty of purpose and rectitude of -action frustrated and cast down.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow was no unbeliever--he was not even inclined to skepticism--but -his mind labored, not without humility and reverence, to see how it -could reconcile such facts with the goodness and providence of God.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He makes the sun shine upon the just and the unjust, we are told," -said Marlow to himself; "but here the sun seems to shine upon the -unjust alone, and clouds and tempests hang about the just. It is very -strange, and even discouraging; and yet, all that we see of these -strange, unaccountable dispensations may teach us lessons for -hereafter--may give us the grandest confirmation of the grandest -truth. There must be another world, in which these things will be made -equal--a world where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary -are at rest. We only see in part, and the part we do not see must be -the part which will reconcile all the seeming contradictions between -the justice and goodness of God and the course of this mortal life."</p> - -<p class="normal">This train pursued him till he reached the town, and put up his horse -at the inn. By that time it was quite dark, and he had tasted nothing -since early in the morning. He therefore ordered supper, and the -landlord, by whom he was now well known--a good, old, honest, country -landlord of the olden time--brought in the meal himself, and waited on -his guest at table. It was so much the custom of gentlemen, in those -days, to order wine whenever they stopped at an inn--it was looked -upon so much as a matter of course that this should be done for the -good of the house--that the landlord, without any direct commands to -that effect, brought in a bottle of his very best old sherry, always a -favorite wine with the English people, though now hardly to be got, -and placed it by the side of his guest. Marlow was by habit no drinker -of much wine. He avoided, as much as in him lay, the deep potations -then almost universal in England; but, not without an object, he that -night gave in to a custom which was very common in England then, and -for many years afterwards, and requested the landlord, after the meal -was over, to sit down, and help him with his bottle.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You'll need another bottle, if I once begin, Master Marlow," said the -jolly landlord, who was a wag in his way.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow nodded his head significantly, as if he were prepared for the -infliction, replying quietly, "Under the influence of your good chat, -Mr. Cherrydew, I can bear it, I think."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, that's hearty," said the landlord, drawing a chair sideways to -the table; for his vast rotundity prevented him from approaching it -full front. "Here's to your very good health, sir, and may you never -drink worse wine, sit in a colder room, or have a sadder companion."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now I have said that Marlow did not invite the landlord to join him, -without an object. That object was to obtain information, and it had -struck him even while the trout, which formed the first dish at his -supper, was being placed on the table, that he might be able, if -willing, to afford it.</p> - -<p class="normal">Landlords in England at that time--I mean, of course, in country -towns--were very different in many respects, and of a different class -from what they are at present. In the first place, they were not fine -gentlemen: in the next place, they were not discharged valets de -chambre, or butlers, who, having cheated their masters handsomely, and -perhaps laid them under contribution in many ways, retire to enjoy the -fat things at their ease in their native town. Then, again, they were -on terms of familiar intercourse with two or three classes, completely -separate and distinct from each other--a sort of connecting link -between them. At their door the justice of the peace, the knight of -the shire, the great man of the neighborhood, dismounted from his -horse, and had his chat with mine host. There came the village lawyer -when he had gained a cause, or won a large fee, or had been paid a -long bill, to indulge in his pint of sherry, and gossipped, as he -drank it, of all the affairs of his clients. There sneaked in the -Doctor to get his glass of eau de vie, or plague water, or aqua -mirabilis, or strong spirits, in short of any other denomination, and -tell little dirty anecdotes of his cases, and his patients. There the -alderman, the wealthy shop-keeper, and the small proprietor, or the -large farmer, came to take his cheerful cup on Saturdays or on -market-day. But, besides these, the inn was the resort, though -approached by another door, of a lower and a poorer class, with whom -the landlord was still upon as good terms as with the others. The -wagoner, the carter, the lawyer's and the banker's clerk, the shopman, -the porter even, all came there; and it mattered not to Mr. Cherrydew -or his confraternity, whether it was a bowl of punch, a draught of -ale, a glass of spirits, or a bottle of old wine that his guests -demanded; he was civil, and familiar, and chatty with them all.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus under the rosy and radiant face of Mr. Cherrydew, and in that -good, round, fat head, was probably accumulated a greater mass of -information, regarding the neighborhood in which he lived, and all -that went on therein, than in any other head, in the whole town, and -the only difficulty was to extract that part of the store which was -wanted.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow knew that it would not do to approach the principal subject of -inquiry rashly; for Mr. Cherrydew, like most of his craft, was -somewhat cautious, and would have shut himself up in silent reserve, -or enveloped himself in intangible ambiguities, if he had known -that his guest had any distinct and important object in his -questions--having a notion that a landlord should be perfectly -cosmopolitan in all his feelings and his actions, and should never -commit himself in such a manner as to offend any one who was, had -been, or might be his guest. He was fond of gossip, it is true, -loved a jest, and was not at all blind to the ridiculous in the -actions of his neighbors; but habitual caution was in continual -struggle with his merry, tattling disposition, and he was generally -considered a very safe man.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow, therefore, began at a great distance, saying, "I have just -come down from London, Mr. Cherrydew, and rode over, thinking that I -should arrive in time to catch my lawyer in his office."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is all over now, sir, for the night," replied the landlord. "In -this, two-legged foxes differ from others: they go to their holes at -sunset, just when other foxes go out to walk. They divide the world -between them, Master Marlow; the one preys by day, the other by -night.--Well, I should like to see Lunnun. It must be a grand place, -sir, though somewhat of a bad one. Why, what a number of executions I -have read of there lately, and then, this Sir John Fenwick's business. -Why, he changed horses here, going to dine with Sir Philip, as I shall -call him to the end of my days. Ah, poor gentleman, he has been in -great trouble! But I suppose, from what I hear, he'll get clear now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beyond all doubt," said Marlow; "the Government have no case against -him. But you say very true, Mr. Cherrydew, there has been a sad number -of executions in London--seven and twenty people hanged, at different -times, while I was there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the town no better," said Mr. Cherrydew.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the way," said Marlow, "were you not one of the jury at the trial -of that fellow, Tom Cutter?--Fill your glass, Mr. Cherrydew."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you, sir.--Yes I was, to be sure," answered the landlord; "and -I'll tell you the funniest thing in the world that happened the second -day. Lord bless you, sir, I was foreman,--and on the first day the -judge suffered the case to go on till his dinner was quite cold, and -we were all half starved; but he saw that he could not hang him that -night, at all events--here's to your health, sir!--so he adjourned the -Court, and called for a constable, and ordered all of us, poor devils, -to be locked up tight in Jones's public-house till the next day; for -the jury room is so small, that there is not standing-room for more -than three such as me. Well, the other men did not much like it, -though I did not care,--for I had my boots full of ham, and a -brandy-bottle in my breeches-pocket. One of them asked the judge, for -all his great black eyebrows, if he could'nt go on that night; but his -lordship answered, with a snort like a cart horse, and told us to hold -our tongues, and mind our own business, and only to take care and keep -ourselves together. Well, sir, we had to walk up the hill, you know, -and there was the constable following us with his staff in his hand; -so I had compassion on my poor fellow-sufferers, and I whispered, -first to one, then to another, that this sort of jog would never do, -but I would manage to tell them how to have a good night's rest. You -see, says I, here's but one constable to thirteen people, so when you -get to the cross-roads, let every man take up his legs and run, each -his own way. He can but catch one, and the slowest runner will have -the chance. Now, I was the fattest of them all, you see, so that every -one of them thought that I should be the man. Well, sir, they followed -my advice; but it's a different thing to give advice, and take it. No -sooner did we get to the cross-roads, than they scattered like a heap -of dust in the wind, some down the roads and lanes, some over the -styles and gates, some through the hedges. Little Sninkum, the tailor, -stuck in the hedge by the way, and was the man caught, for he was -afraid of his broadcloth; but I stood stock still, with a look of -marvellous astonishment, crying out, 'For God's sake catch them, -constable, or what will my lord say to you and me?' Off the poor devil -set in a moment, one man to catch twelve, all over the face of the -country. He thought he was sure enough of me; but what did I do I why, -as soon as he was gone, I waddled home to my own house, and got my -wife to put me to bed up-stairs, and pass me for my grandfather. Well, -sir, that's not the best of it yet. We were all in Court next day at -the right hour, and snug in the jury-box before the judge came in; but -I have a notion he had heard something of the matter. He looked mighty -hard at Sninkum, whose face was all scratched to pieces, and opening -his mouth with a pop, like the drawing of a cork, he said, 'Why, man, -you look as if you and your brethren had been fighting!' and then he -looked as hard at me, and roared, 'I hope, gentlemen, you have kept -yourselves together?' Thereupon, I laid my two hands upon my stomach, -sir,--it weighs a hundred and a half, if it were cut off to-morrow, as -I know to my cost, who carry it--and I answered quite, respectful, 'I -can't answer for the other gentlemen, my lord, but I'll swear I've -kept myself together.' You should have heard how the Court rang with -the people laughing, while I remained as grave as a judge, and much -graver than the one who was there; for I thought he would have burst -before he was done, and a fine mess that would have made."</p> - -<p class="normal">Serious as his thoughts were, Marlow could not refrain from smiling; -but he did not forget his object, and remarked, "There were efforts -made to save that scoundrel, and the present Sir John Hastings -certainly did his best for his friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Call him John Ayliffe, sir, call him John Ayliffe," said the host. -"Here's to you, sir,--he's never called any thing else here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wonder," said Marlow, musingly, "if there was any relationship -between this Tom Cutter and John Ayliffe's mother?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not a pin's point of it, sir," replied the landlord. "They were just -two bad fellows together; that was the connection between them, and -nothing else."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, John stood by his friend, at all events," said Marlow; "though -where he got the money to pay the lawyers in that case, or in his suit -against Sir Philip, is a marvel to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mine host winked his eye knowingly, and gave a short laugh.</p> - -<p class="normal">That did not entirely suit Marlow's purpose, and he added in a musing -tone, "I know that he wanted to borrow ten pounds two or three months -before, but was refused, because he had not repaid what he had -borrowed of the same party, previously."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay, sir," said the landlord; "there are secrets in all things. He -got money, and money enough, somehow, just about that time. He has not -repaid it yet, either, but he has given a mortgage, I hear, for the -amount; and if he don't mortgage his own carcase for it too, I am very -much mistaken, before he has done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mortgage his own carcase! I do not understand what you mean," replied -Marlow. "I am sure I would not give a shilling for that piece of -earth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A pretty widow lady, not a hundred miles off, may think differently," -replied the landlord, grinning again, and filling his glass once more.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, ha," said Marlow, trying to laugh likewise; "so you think she -advanced the money, do you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am quite sure of it, sir," said Mr. Cherrydew, nodding his head -profoundly. "I did not witness the mortgage, but I know one who did."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What! Shanks' clerk, I suppose," said Marlow.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, sir, no," replied the landlord; "Shanks did not draw the -mortgage, either; for he was lawyer to both parties, and Mrs. Hazleton -didn't like that;--O, she's cute enough!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think you must be mistaken," said Marlow, in a decided tone; "for -Mrs. Hazleton assured me, when there was a question between herself -and me, that she was not nearly as rich as she was supposed, and that -if the law should award me back rents, it would ruin her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gammon, sir!" replied the landlord, who had now imbibed a sufficient -quantity of wine, in addition to sundry potations during the day. "I -should not have thought you a man to be so easily hooked, Mr. Marlow; -but if you will ask the clerk of Doubledoo and Kay, who was down here, -staying three or four days about business, you'll find that she -advanced every penny, and got a mortgage for upwards of five thousand -pounds;--but I think we had better have that other bottle, sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By all means," said Marlow, and Mr. Cherrydew rolled away to fetch -it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the way, what was that clerk's name you mentioned?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sims, sir, Sims," said the landlord, drawing the cork; and then -setting down the bottle on the table, he added, with a look of great -contempt, "he's the leetlest little man you ever saw, sir, not so tall -as my girl Dolly, and with no more stomach than a currycomb, a sort of -cross breed between a monkey and a penknife. He's as full of fun as -the one, too, and as sharp as the other. He will hold a prodigious -quantity of punch, though, small as he is. I could not fancy where he -put it all, it must have gone into his shoes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, come, Mr. Cherrydew," said Marlow, laughing, "do not speak -disrespectfully of thin people--I am not very fat myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord bless you, sir, you are quite a fine, personable man; and in -time, with a few butts, you would be as fine a man as I am."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow devoutly hoped not, but he begged Mr. Cherrydew to sit down -again, and do his best to help him through the wine he had brought; -and out of that bottle came a great many things which Marlow wanted -much more than the good sherry which it contained.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was about ten o'clock in the day when Marlow returned to -the Court, -as it was called. The butler informed him that Miss Emily was not -down--a very unusual thing with her, as she was exceedingly matutinal -in her habits; but he found, on inquiry, that she had sat up with her -mother during the greater part of the night. Marlow looked at his -watch, then at the gravelled space before the house, where his own -horse was being led up and down by his groom, and a stranger who had -come with him was sitting quietly on horseback, as if waiting for him. -"I fear," said Marlow, after a moment's musing, "I must disturb your -young lady. Will you tell her maid to go up and inform her that I am -here, and wish to speak with her immediately, as I have business which -calls me to London without delay." The man retired, and Marlow entered -what was then called the withdrawing room, walking up and down in -thought. He had not remained many minutes, however, when Emily herself -appeared, with her looks full of surprise and anxiety. "What is the -matter, Marlow?" she said. "Has any new evil happened?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, my love," said Marlow, embracing her tenderly. "You must -not let the few ills that have already befallen you, my Emily, produce -that apprehensiveness which long years of evil and mischance but too -often engender. Brighter days are coming, I trust, my love; so far -from new evils having arisen, I have been very fortunate in my -inquiries, and have got information which must lead to great results. -I must pursue the clue that has been afforded me without a moment's -delay or hesitation; for once the thread be broken I may have -difficulty in uniting it again. But if I judge rightly, my Emily, it -will lead me to the following results. To the complete exposure of a -base conspiracy; to the punishment of the offenders; to the -restoration of your father's property, and of his rank."</p> - -<p class="normal">He held her hand in his while he spoke, and gazed into her beautiful -eyes; but Emily did not seem very much overjoyed. "For my own part," -she said, "I care little as to the loss of property or station, -Marlow, and still less do I care to punish offenders; but I think my -father and mother will be very glad of the tidings you give me. May I -tell them what you say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow mused for a moment or two. He was anxious to give any comfort -to Mrs. Hastings, but yet he doubted her discretion, and he replied, -"Not the whole, dear Emily, except in case of urgent need. You may -tell your mother that I think I have obtained information which will -lead to the restoration of your father's property, and you may assure -her that no effort shall be wanting on my part to attain that object. -Say that I am, even now, setting out for London for the purpose, and -that I am full of good hopes. I believe I can prove," he added, after -a moment's consideration, and in reality more to lead Mrs. Hastings -away from the right track than from any other consideration, although -the point he was about to state was a fact, "I believe I can prove -that the missing leaf of the marriage register, which was supposed to -have been torn out by your grandfather's orders, was there not two -years ago, and that I can show by whose hands it was torn out at a -much later date. Assure her, however, that I will do every thing in my -power, and bid her be of good hope."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not understand the matter," answered Emily, "and never heard of -this register, but I dare say my mother has, and will comprehend your -meaning better than I do. I know the very hope will give her great -pleasure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Remember one thing, however, dear Emily," replied Marlow, "on no -account mention to her my suspicions of Mrs. Hazleton, nor show any -suspicions of that good lady yourself. It is absolutely necessary that -she should be kept in ignorance of our doubts, till those doubts, -become certainties. However, in case of any painful and unpleasant -circumstances occurring while I am absent, I must leave these papers -with you. They consist of the note sent you by Mrs. Hazleton which you -showed me, a paper which I feel confident is in her handwriting, but -which imitates your hand very exactly, and which has led to wrong -impressions, and the letter of young John Ayliffe--or at least that -which he wrote under Mrs. Hazleton's direction. I have added a few -words of my own, on a separate sheet of paper, stating the impression -which I have in regard to all these matters, and which I will justify -whenever it may be needful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what am I to do with them?" asked Emily, simply.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Keep them safely, and ever at hand, dear girl," replied Marlow, in a -grave tone. "You will find your father on his return a good deal -altered--moody and dissatisfied. It will be as well for you to take no -notice of such demeanor, unless he expresses plainly some cause of -discontent. If he do so--if he should venture upon any occasion to -reproach you, my Emily--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For what?" exclaimed Emily, in utter surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would be too long and too painful to explain all just now, dear -one," answered her lover. "But such a thing may happen, my Emily. -Deceived, and in error, he may perhaps reproach you for things you -never dreamt of. He may also judge wrongly of your conduct in not -having told him of this young scoundrel's proposal to you. In either -case put that packet of papers in his hands, and tell him frankly and -candidly every thing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is sometimes so reserved and grave," said Emily, "that I never -like to speak to him on any subject to which he does not lead the way. -I sometimes think he does not understand me, Marlow, and dread to open -my whole heart to him, as I would fain do, lest he should mistake me -still more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let no dread stop you in this instance, my own dear girl," Marlow -answered. "That there have been dark plots against you, Emily, I am -certain. The only way to meet and frustrate them is to place full and -entire confidence in your father. I do not ask you to speak to him on -the subject unless he speaks to you till I have obtained the proofs -which will make all as clear as daylight. Then, every thing must be -told, and Sir Philip will find that had he been more frank himself he -would have met with no want of candor in his daughter. Now, one more -kiss, dear love, and then to my horse's back."</p> - -<p class="normal">I will not pursue Marlow's journey across the fair face of merry -England, nor tell the few adventures that befell him on the way, nor -the eager considerations that pressed, troop after troop, upon his -mind, neither will I dwell long upon his proceedings in London, which -occupied but one brief day. He went to the house of his banker, sought -out the little clerk of Messrs. Doubledoo and Kay, and contrived from -both to obtain proof positive that Mrs. Hazleton had supplied a large -sum of money to young John Ayliffe to carry on his suit against Sir -Philip Hastings. He also obtained a passport for France, and one or -two letters for influential persons in Paris, and returning to the inn -where he had left the man who had accompanied him from the country, -set out for Calais, without pausing even to take rest himself. Another -man, a clerk from his own lawyer's house, accompanied him, and though -the passage was somewhat long and stormy, he reached Calais in safety.</p> - -<p class="normal">Journeys to Paris were not then such easy things as now. Three days -passed ere Marlow reached the French capital, and then both his -companions were inclined to grumble not a little at the rapidity with -which he travelled, and the small portion of rest he allowed them or -himself. In the capital, however, they paused for two days, and, -furnished with an interpreter and guide, amused themselves mightily, -while Marlow passed his time in government offices, and principally -with the lieutenant of police, or one of his commissaries.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length the young gentleman notified his two companions that they -must prepare to accompany him at nine o'clock in the morning to St. -Germain en Laye, where he intended to reside for some days. A carriage -was at the door to the moment, and they found in it a very decent and -respectable gentleman in black, with a jet-hilted sword by his side, -and a certain portion of not very uncorrupt English. The whole party -jogged on pleasantly up the steep ascent, and round the fine old -palace, to a small inn which was indicated to the driver by the -gentleman in black, for whom that driver seemed to entertain a -profound reverence. When comfortably fixed in the inn, Marlow left his -two English companions, and proceeded, as it was the hour of -promenade, to take a walk upon the terrace with his friend in black. -They passed a great number of groups, and a great number of single -figures, and Marlow might have remarked, if he had been so disposed, -that several of the persons whom they met seemed to eye his companion -with a suspicious and somewhat anxious glance. All Marlow's powers of -observation, however, were directed in a different way. He examined -every face that he saw, every group that he came near; but at length, -as they passed a somewhat gayly dressed woman of the middle age, who -was walking alone, the young Englishman touched the arm of the man in -black, saying, "According to the description I have had of her, that -must be very like the person."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will follow her, and see," said the man in black.</p> - -<p class="normal">Without appearing to notice her particularly, they kept near the lady -who had attracted their attention, as long as she continued to walk -upon the terrace, and then followed her when she left it, through -several streets which led away in the direction of the forest. At -length she stopped at a small house, opened the door, and went in.</p> - -<p class="normal">The man in black took out a little book from his pocket, closely -written with long lists of names.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Monsieur et Madame Jervis," he said, after having turned over several -pages. "Here since three years ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That cannot be she, then," answered Marlow.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, stay," said his companion, "that is _au premier_. On the second -floor lodges Monsieur Drummond. Old man of sixty-eight. He has been -here two years; and above Madame Dupont, an old French lady whom I -know quite well. You must be mistaken, Monsieur, but we will go into -this _charcutier's_ just opposite, and inquire whether that is Madame -Jervis who went in."</p> - -<p class="normal">It proved to be so. The pork butcher had seen her as she passed the -window, and Marlow's search had to begin again. When he and his -companion returned to their inn, however, the man whom he had brought -up from the country met him eagerly, saying, "I have seen her, sir! I -have seen her! She passed by here not ten minutes ago, dressed in -weeds like a widow, and walking very fast. I would swear to her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, he," said the man in black, "we will soon find her now," and -calling to the landlord, who was as profoundly deferential towards him -as the coachman had been, he said in the sweetest possible tone, "Will -you have the goodness to let Monsieur Martin know that the _bon homme -grivois_ wishes to speak with him for a moment?"</p> - -<p class="normal">It was wonderful with what rapidity Monsieur St. Martin, a tall, -dashing looking personage, with an infinite wig, obeyed the summons of -the _bon homme grivois_.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, _bon jour_, St. Martin," said the man in black.</p> - -<p class="normal">"_Bon jour, Monsieur_," replied the other with a profound obeisance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A lady of forty--has been handsome, fresh color, dark eyes, middle -height, hair brown, hardly gray," said the man in black. "Dressed like -an English widow, somewhat common air and manner, has come here within -a year. Where is she to be found, St. Martin?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The other, who had remained standing, took out his little book, and -after consulting its pages diligently, gave a street and a number.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What's her name?" asked the man in black.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mistress Brown," replied Monsieur St. Martin.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good," said the man in black, "but we must wait till to-morrow -morning, as it is now growing dark, and there must be no mistake; -first, lest we scare the real bird in endeavoring to catch one we -don't want, and next, lest we give annoyance to any of his Majesty's -guests, which would reduce the king to despair."</p> - -<p class="normal">The next morning, at an early hour, the party of four proceeded to the -street which had been indicated, discovered the number, and then -entered a handsome hotel, inhabited by an old French nobleman. The man -in black seemed unknown to either the servants or their master, but a -very few words spoken in the ear of the latter, rendered him most -civil and accommodating. A room in the front of the house, just over -that of the porter, was put at the disposal of the visitors, and the -man who had accompanied Marlow from the country was placed at the -window to watch the opposite dwelling. It was a balmy morning, and the -house was near the outskirts of the town, so that the fresh air of the -country came pleasantly up the street. The windows of the opposite -house were, however, still closed, and it was not till Marlow and his -companions had been there near three quarters of an hour, that a -window on the first floor was opened, and a lady looked out for a -moment, and then drew in her head again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There she is!" cried the man who was watching, "there she is, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you quite certain?" asked the man in black.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beyond all possible doubt, sir," replied the other. "Lord bless you, -I know her as well as I know my own mother. I saw her almost every day -for ten years."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very well, then," said the man in black, "I wilt go over first alone, -and as soon as I have got in, you, Monsieur Marlow, with these two -gentlemen, follow me thither. She won't escape me when once I'm in, -but the house may have a back way, and therefore we will not scare her -by too many visitors at this early hour."</p> - -<p class="normal">He accordingly took his departure, and Marlow and his companions saw -him ring the bell at the opposite house. But the suspicion of those -within fully justified the precautions he had taken. Before he -obtained admission, he was examined very narrowly by a maid-servant -from the window above. It is probable that he was quite conscious of -this scrutiny, but he continued quietly humming an opera air for a -minute or two, and then rang the bell again. The door was then opened. -He entered, and Marlow and his companions ran across, and got in -before the door was shut. The maid gave a little scream at the sudden -ingress of so many men, but the gentleman in black told her to be -silent, to which she replied, "Oh, Monsieur, you have cheated me. You -said you wanted lodgings."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very good, my child," replied the man, "but the lodgings which I want -are those of Madame Brown, and you will be good enough to recollect -that I command all persons, in the king's name, now in this house, to -remain in it, and not to go out on any pretence whatever till they -have my permission. Lock that door at the back, and then bring me the -key."</p> - -<p class="normal">The maid, pale and trembling, did as she was commanded, and the French -gentleman then directed the man who had accompanied Marlow to precede -the rest up the stairs, and enter the front room of the first floor. -The others followed close, and as soon as the door of the room was -open, it was evident that the lady of the house had been alarmed by -the noise below; for she stood looking eagerly towards the top of the -stairs, with cheeks very pale indeed. At the same moment that this -sight was presented to them, they heard the man who had gone on -exclaim in English, "Ah, Mistress Ayliffe, how do you do? I am very -glad to see you. Do you know they said you were dead--ay, and swore to -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">John Ayliffe's mother sank down in a seat, and hid her face with her -hands.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Marlow could not be hard-hearted with a woman, and he felt for -the -terrible state of agitation and alarm, to which John Ayliffe's mother -was reduced.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must be gentle with her," he said in French to the Commissary of -Police, who was with him, and whom we have hitherto called the man in -black.</p> - -<p class="normal">"_Oui, monsieur_," replied the other, taking a pinch of snuff, and -perfectly indifferent whether he was gentle or not,--for the -Commissary had the honor, as he termed it, of assisting at the -breaking of several gentlemen on the wheel, to say nothing of sundry -decapitations, hangings, and the question, ordinary and extraordinary, -all of which have a certain tendency, when witnessed often, slightly -to harden the human heart, so that he was not tender.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow was approaching to speak to the unfortunate woman, when -removing her hands from her eyes, she looked wildly round, exclaiming, -"Oh! have you come to take me, have you come to take me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That must depend upon circumstances, madam," replied Marlow, in a -quiet tone. "I have obtained sufficient proofs of the conspiracy in -which your son has been engaged with yourself and Mr. Shanks, the -attorney, to justify me in applying to the Government of his most -Christian Majesty for your apprehension and removal to England. But I -am unwilling to deal at all harshly with you, if it can be avoided."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! pray don't, pray don't!" she exclaimed vehemently; "my son will -kill me, I do believe, if he knew that you had found me out; for he -has told me, and written to me so often to hide myself carefully, that -he would think it was my fault."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is his own fault in ordering your letters to him to be sent to the -Silver Cross at Hartwell," replied Marlow. "Every body in the house -knew the handwriting, and became aware that you were not dead, as had -been pretended. But your son will soon be in a situation to kill -nobody; for the very fact of your being found here, with the other -circumstances we know, is sufficient to convict him of perjury."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then he'll lose the property and the title, and not be Sir John any -more," said the unhappy woman.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beyond all doubt," replied Marlow. "But to return to the matter -before us; my conduct with regard to yourself must be regulated -entirely by what you yourself do. If you furnish me with full and -complete information in regard to this nefarious business, in which I -am afraid you have been a participator, as well as a victim, I will -consent to your remaining where you are, under the superintendence of -the police, of which this gentleman is a Commissary."</p> - -<p class="normal">"O, I have been a victim, indeed," answered Mrs. Ayliffe, weeping. "I -declare I have not had a moment's peace, or a morsel fit to eat since -I have been in this outlandish country, and I can hardly get any body, -not even a servant girl, who understands a word of English, to speak -to."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow thought that he saw an inclination to evade the point of his -questions, in order to gain time for consideration, and the Commissary -thought so too: though both of them were, I believe, mistaken; for -collaterality, if I may use such a word, was a habit of the poor -woman's mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Commissary interrupted her somewhat sharply in her catalogue of -the miseries of France, by saying, "I will beg you to give me your -keys, madame, for we must have a visitation of your papers."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My keys, my keys!" she said, putting her hands in the large pockets -then worn. "I am sure I do not know what I have done with them, or -where they are."</p> - -<p class="normal">"O, we will soon find keys that will open any thing," replied the -Commissary. "There are plenty of hammers in St. Germain."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, stay a moment," said Marlow; "I think Mrs. Ayliffe will save us -the trouble of taking any harsh steps."</p> - -<p class="normal">"O yes, don't; I will do any thing you please," she said, earnestly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then, madame," said Marlow, "will you have the goodness to state -to this gentleman, who will take down your words, and afterwards -authenticate the statement, what is your real name, and your ordinary -place of residence in England?"</p> - -<p class="normal">She hesitated, and he added more sternly, "You may answer or not, as -you like, madame; we have proof by the evidence of Mr. Atkinson here, -who has known you so many years, that you are living now in France, -when your son made affidavit that you were dead. That is the principal -point; but at the same time I warn you, that if you do not frankly -state the truth in every particular, I must demand that you be removed -to England."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will indeed," she said, "I will indeed;" and raising her eyes to -the face of the Commissary, of whom she seemed to stand in great -dread, she stated truly her name and place of abode, adding, "I would -not, indeed I would not have taken a false name, or come here at all, -if my son had not told me that it was the only way for him to get the -estate, and promised that I should come back directly he had got it. -But now, he says I must remain here forever, and hide myself;" and she -wept bitterly.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while, the Commissary continued to write actively, putting -down all she said. She seemed to perceive that she was committing -herself, but, as is very common in such cases, she only rendered the -difficulties worse, adding, in a low tone, "After all, the estate -ought to have been his by right."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you think so, madame," replied Marlow, "you had better return to -England, and prove it; but I can hardly imagine that your son and his -sharp lawyer would have had recourse to fraud and perjury in order to -keep you concealed, if they judged that he had any right at all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, he might have a right in the eyes of God," replied the unhappy -woman, "not in the eyes of the law. We were as much married before -heaven as any two people could be, though we might not be married -before men."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is to say, you and your husband," said the Commissary in an -insinuating tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I and Mr. John Hastings, old Sir John's son," she answered; and the -Commissary drawing Marlow for a moment aside, conversed with him in a -whisper.</p> - -<p class="normal">What they said she could not hear, and could not have understood had -she heard, for they spoke in French; but she grew alarmed as they went -on, evidently speaking about her, and turning their eyes towards her -from time to time. She thought they meditated at least sending her in -custody to England, and perhaps much worse. Tales of bastiles, and -dungeons, and wringing confessions from unwilling prisoners by all -sorts of tortures, presented themselves to her imagination, and before -they had concluded, she exclaimed in a tone of entreaty, "I will tell -all, indeed I will tell all, if you will not send me any where."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Commissary thinks, madame," said Marlow, "that the first thing we -ought to do is to examine your papers, and then to question you from -the evidence they afford. The keys must, therefore, be found, or the -locks must be broken open."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps they may be in that drawer," said Mrs. Ayliffe, pointing -across to an escrutoire; and there they were accordingly found. No -great search for papers was necessary; for the house was but scantily -furnished, and the escrutoire itself contained a packet of six or -seven letters from John Ayliffe to his mother, with two from Mr. -Shanks, each of them ending with the words "_read and burn_;" an -injunction which she had religiously failed to comply with. These -letters formed a complete series from the time of her quitting England -up to that day. They gave her information of the progress of the suit -against Sir Philip Hastings, and of its successful termination by his -withdrawing from the defence. The first letters held out to her, every -day, the hope of a speedy return to England. The later ones mentioned -long fictitious consultations with lawyers in regard to her return, -and stated that it was found absolutely necessary that she should -remain abroad under an assumed name. The last letter, however, -evidently in answer to one of remonstrance and entreaty from her, was -the most important in Marlow's eyes. It was very peremptory in its -tone, asked if she wanted to ruin and destroy her son, and threatened -all manner of terrible things if she suffered her retreat to be -discovered. As some compensation, however, for her disappointment, -John Ayliffe promised to come and see her speedily, and secure her a -splendid income, which would enable her to keep carriages and horses, -and "live like a princess." He excused his not having done so earlier, -on the ground that his friend Mrs. Hazleton had advanced him a very -large sum of money to carry on the suit, which he was obliged to pay -immediately. The letter ended with these words, "She is as bitter -against all the Hastings' as ever; and nothing will satisfy her till -she has seen the last of them all, especially that saucy girl; but she -is cute after her money, and will be paid. As for my part, I don't -care what she does to Mistress Emily; for I now hate her as much as I -once liked her,--but you will see something there, I think, before -long."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the name of Heaven," exclaimed Marlow, as he read that letter, -"what can have possessed the woman with so much malice towards poor -Emily Hastings?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, John used always to think," said Mistress Ayliffe, with a weak -smile coming upon her face in the midst of her distress, "that it was -because Madame Hazleton wanted to marry a man about there, called -Marlow, and Mistress Emily carried him off from her."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Commissary laughed, and held out his snuff-box to Marlow, who did -not take the snuff, but fell into a deep fit of thought, while the -Commissary continued his perquisitions.</p> - -<p class="normal">Only two more papers of importance were found, and they were of a date -far back. The one fresh, and evidently a copy of some other letter, -the other yellow, and with the folds worn through in several places. -The former was a copy of a letter of young John Hastings to the -unfortunate girl whom he had seduced, soothing her under her distress -of mind, and calling her his "dear little wife." It was with the -greatest difficulty she could be induced to part with the original, it -would seem, and had obtained a copy before she consented to do so. The -latter was the antidote to the former. It was a letter from old Sir -John Hastings to her father, and was to the following effect:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir:</p> - -<p class="normal">"As you have thought fit distinctly to withdraw all vain and -fraudulent pretences of any thing but an illicit connection between -your daughter and my late son, and to express penitence for the -insolent threats you used, I will not withhold due support from my -child's offspring, nor from the unfortunate girl to whom he behaved -ill. I therefore write this to inform you that I will allow her the -sum of two hundred pounds per annum, as long as she demeans herself -with propriety and decorum. I will also leave directions in my will -for securing to her and her son, on their joint lives, a sum of an -equal amount, which may be rendered greater if her behavior for the -next few years is such as I can approve.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am, sir, your obedient servant,</p> - -<p class="normal">"JOHN HASTINGS."</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow folded up the letter with a smile, and the Commissary -proceeded, with all due formalities, to mark and register the whole -correspondence as found in the possession of Mrs. Ayliffe.</p> - -<p class="normal">When this was done, what may be called the examination of that good -lady was continued, but the sight of those letters in the hands of -Marlow, and the well-satisfied smile with which he read them, had -convinced her that all farther attempt at concealment would be vain. -Terror had with her a great effect in unloosing the tongue, and, as is -very common in such cases, she flew into the extreme of loquacity, -told every thing she knew, or thought, or imagined, and being, as is -common with very weak people, of a prying and inquisitive turn, she -could furnish ample information in regard to all the schemes and -contrivances by which her son had succeeded in convincing even Sir -Philip Hastings himself of his legitimacy.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her statements involved Mr. Shanks the lawyer in the scheme of fraud -as a principal, but they compromised deeply Mrs. Hazleton herself as -cognizant of all that was going on, and aiding and abetting with her -personal advice. She detailed the whole particulars of the plan which -had been formed for bringing Emily Hastings to Mrs. Hazleton's house, -and frightening her into a marriage with John Ayliffe; and she dwelt -particularly on the tutoring he had received from that lady, and his -frantic rage when the scheme was frustrated. The transactions between -him and the unhappy man Tom Cutter she knew only in part; but she -admitted that her eon had laughed triumphantly at the thought of how -Sir Philip would be galled when he was made to believe that his -beloved Emily had been to visit her young reprobate son at the cottage -near the park, and that, too, at a time when he had been actually -engaged in poaching.</p> - -<p class="normal">All, in fact, came forth with the greatest readiness, and indeed much -more was told than any questions tended to elicit. She seemed indeed -to have now lost all desire for concealment, and to found her hopes -and expectations on the freest discovery. Her only dread, apparently, -being that she might be taken to England, and confronted with her son. -On this point she dwelt much, and Marlow consented that she should -remain in France, under the supervision of the police, for a time at -least, though he would not promise her, notwithstanding all her -entreaties, that she should never be sent for. He endeavored, however, -to obviate the necessity of so doing, by taking every formal step that -could be devised to render the evidence he had obtained available in a -court of law, as documentary testimony. A magistrate was sent for, her -statements were read over to her in his presence by the commissary of -police, and though it cannot be asserted that either the style or the -orthography of the worthy commissary were peculiarly English, yet Mrs. -Ayliffe signed them, and swore to them in good set form, and in the -presence of four witnesses.</p> - -<p class="normal">To Marlow, the scene was a very painful one; for he had a natural -repugnance to seeing the weakness and degradation of human nature so -painfully exhibited by any fellow-creature, and he left her with -feelings of pity, but still stronger feelings of contempt.</p> - -<p class="normal">All such sensations, however, vanished when he reached the inn again, -and he found himself in possession of evidence which would clear his -beloved Emily of the suspicions which had been instilled into her -father's mind, and which he doubted not in the least would effect the -restoration of Sir Philip Hastings to his former opulence and to his -station in society.</p> - -<p class="normal">The mind of man has a sun in its own sky, which pours forth its -sunshine, or is hidden by clouds, irrespective of the atmosphere -around. In fact we always see external objects through stained glass, -and the hues imparted are in our windows, not in the objects -themselves. It is wonderful how different the aspect of every thing -was to the eyes of Marlow as he returned towards Paris, from that -which the scene had presented as he went. All seemed sunshine and -brightness, from the happiness of his own heart. The gloomy images, -which, as I have shown, had haunted him on his way from his own house -to Hartwell--the doubts, if they can be so called--the questionings of -the unsatisfied heart in regard the ways of Providence--the cloudy -dreads which almost all men must have felt as to the real, constant, -minute superintendence of a Supreme Power being but a sweet vision, -the child of hope and veneration, were all dispelled. I do not mean to -say that they were dissipated by reason or by thought, for his was a -strong mind, and reason and thought with him were always on the side -of faith; but those clouds and mists were suddenly scattered by the -success which he had obtained, and the cheering expectation which -might be now well founded upon that success. Is was not enough for him -that he knew, and understood, and appreciated to the full the beauty -and excellence of his Emily's character. He could not be contented -unless every one connected with her understood and appreciated it -also. He cared little what the world thought of himself, but he would -have every one think well of her, and the deepest pang he had perhaps -ever felt in life had been experienced when he first found that Sir -Philip Hastings doubted and suspected his own child. Now, all must be -clear--all must be bright. The base and the fraudulent will be -punished and exposed, the noble and the good honored and justified. It -was his doing; and as he alighted from the carriage, and mounted the -stairs of the hotel in Paris, his step was as triumphant as if he had -won a great victory.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fate will water our wine, however--I suppose lest we should become -intoxicated with the delicious draught of joy. Marlow longed and hoped -to fly back to England with the tidings without delay, but certain -formalities had to be gone through, official seals and signatures -affixed to the papers he had obtained, in order to leave no doubt of -their authenticity. Cold men of office could not be brought to -comprehend or sympathize with, his impetuous eagerness, and five whole -days elapsed before he was able to quit the French capital.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">John Ayliffe, as we may now once more very righteously call -him, was -seated in the great hall of the old house of the Hastings family. Very -different indeed was the appearance of that large chamber now from -that which it had presented when Sir Philip Hastings was in -possession. All the old, solid, gloomy-looking furniture, which -formerly had given it an air of baronial dignity, and which Sir Philip -had guarded as preciously as if every antique chair and knotted table -had been an heir-loom, was now removed, and rich flaunting things of -gaudy colors substituted. Damask, and silk, and velvet, and gilt -ornaments in the style of France, were there in abundance, and had it -not been for the arches overhead, and the stone walls and narrow -windows around, the old hall might have passed for the saloon of some -newly-enriched financier of Paris.</p> - -<p class="normal">The young man sat at table alone--not that he was by any means fond of -solitude, for on the contrary he would have fain filled his house with -company--but for some reason or another, which he could not divine, he -found the old country gentlemen in the neighborhood somewhat shy of -his society. His wealth, his ostentation, his luxury--for he had begun -his new career with tremendous vehemence--had no effect upon them. -They looked upon him as somewhat vulgar, and treated him with mere -cold, supercilious civility as an upstart. There was one gentleman of -good family, indeed, at some distance, who had hung a good deal about -courts, had withered and impoverished himself, and reduced both his -mind and his fortune in place-hunting, and who had a large family of -daughters, to whom the society of John Ayliffe was the more -acceptable, and who not unfrequently rode over and dined with -him--nay, took a bed at the Hall. But that day he had not been over, -and although upon the calculation of chances, one might have augured -two to one John Ayliffe would ultimately marry one of the daughters, -yet at this period he was not very much smitten with any of them, and -was contemplating seriously a visit to London, where he thought his -origin would be unknown, and his wealth would procure him every sort -of enjoyment.</p> - -<p class="normal">Two servants were in the Hall, handing him the dishes. Well-cooked -viands were on the table, and rich wine. Every thing which John -Ayliffe in his sensual aspirations had anticipated from the possession -of riches was there--except happiness, and that was wanting. To sit -and feed, and feel one's self a scoundrel--to drink deep draughts, -were it of nectar, for the purpose of drowning the thought of our own -baseness--to lie upon the softest bed, and prop the head with the -downiest pillow, with the knowledge that all we possess is the fruit -of crime, can never give happiness--surely not, even to the most -depraved.</p> - -<p class="normal">That eating and drinking, however, was now one of John Ayliffe's chief -resources--drinking especially. He did not actually get intoxicated -every night before he went to bed, but he always drank to a sufficient -excess to cloud his faculties, to obfuscate his mind. He rather liked -to feel himself in that sort of dizzy state where the outlines of all -objects become indistinct, and thought itself puts on the same hazy -aspect.</p> - -<p class="normal">The servants had learned his habits already, and were very willing to -humor them; for they derived their own advantage therefrom. Thus, on -the present occasion, as soon as the meal was over, and the dishes -were removed, and the dessert put upon the table--a dessert consisting -principally of sweetmeats, for which he had a great fondness, with -stimulants to thirst. Added to these were two bottles of the most -potent wine in his cellar, with a store of clean glasses, and a jug of -water, destined to stand unmoved in the middle of the table.</p> - -<p class="normal">After this process it was customary never to disturb him, till, with a -somewhat wavering step, he found his way up to his bedroom. But on the -night of which I am speaking, John Ayliffe had not finished his fourth -glass after dinner, and was in the unhappy stage, which, with some -men, precedes the exhilarating stage of drunkenness, when the butler -ventured to enter with a letter in his hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I beg pardon for intruding, sir," he said, "but Mr. Cherrydew has -sent up a man on horseback from Hartwell with this letter, because -there is marked upon it, 'to be delivered with the greatest possible -haste.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Curse him!" exclaimed John Ayliffe, "I wish he would obey the orders -I give him. Why the devil does he plague me with letters at this time -of night?--there, give it to me, and go away," and taking the letter -from the man's hand, he threw it down on the table beside him, as if -it were not his intention to read it that night. Probably, indeed, it -was not; for he muttered as he looked at the address, "She wants more -money, I dare say, to pay for some trash or another. How greedy these -women are. The parson preached the other day about the horse-leech's -daughter. By ---- I think I have got the horse-leech's mother!" and he -laughed stupidly, not perceiving that the point of his sarcasm touched -himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">He drank another glass of wine, and then looked at the letter again; -but at length, after yet another glass, curiosity got the better of -his moodiness, and he opened the epistle.</p> - -<p class="normal">The first sight of the contents dispelled not only his indifference -but the effects of the wine he had taken, and he read the letter with -an eager and a haggard eye. The substance was as follows:</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dearest boy:</p> - -<p class="normal">"All is lost and discovered. I can but write you a very short account -of the things that have been happening here, for I am under what these -people call the surveillance of the police. I have got a few minutes, -however, and I will pay the maid secretly to give this to the post. -Never was such a time as I have had this morning. Four men have been -here, and among them Atkinson, who lived just down below at the -cottage with the gray shutters. He knew me in a minute, and told -everybody who I was. But that is not the worst of it, for they have -got a commissioner of police with him--a terrible looking man, who -took as much snuff as Mr. Jenkins, the justice of peace. They had got -all sorts of information in England about me, and you, and every body, -and they came to me to give them more, and cross-questioned me in a -terrible manner; and that ugly old Commissioner, in his black coat and -great wig, took my keys, and opened all the drawers and places. What -could I do to stop them? So they got all your letters to me; because I -could not bear to burn my dear boy's letters, and that letter from old -Sir John to my poor father, which I once showed you. So when they got -all those, there was no use of trying to conceal it any more, and, -besides, they might have sent me to the Bastile or the Tower of -London. So every thing has come out, and the best thing you can do is -to take whatever money you have got, or can get, and run away as fast -as possible, and come over here and take me away. One of them was as -fine a man as ever I saw, and quite a gentleman, though very severe.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pray, my dear John, don't lose a moment's time, but run away before -they catch you; for they know every thing now, depend upon it, and -nothing will stop them from hanging you or sending you to the colonies -that you can do; for they have got all the proofs, and I could see by -their faces that they wanted nothing more; and if they do, my heart -will be quite broken, that is, if they hang you or send you to the -colonies, where you will have to work like a galley-slave, and a man -standing over you with a whip, beating your bare back very likely. So -run away, and come to your afflicted mother."</p> - -<p class="normal">She did not seem to have been quite sure what name to sign, for she -first put "Brown," but then changed the word to "Hastings," and then -again to "Ayliffe." There were two or three postscripts, but they were -of no great importance, and John Ayliffe did not take the trouble of -reading them. The terms he bestowed upon his mother--not in the -secrecy of his heart, but aloud and fiercely--were any thing but -filial, and his burst of rage lasted full five minutes before it was -succeeded by the natural fear and trepidation which the intelligence -he had received might well excite. Then, however, his terror became -extreme. The color, usually high, and now heightened both by rage and -wine, left his cheeks, and, as he read over some parts of his mother's -letter again, he trembled violently.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She has told all," he repeated to himself, "she has told all--and -most likely has added from his own fancy. They have got all my letters -too which the fool did not burn. What did say, I wonder? Too much--too -much, I am sure. Heaven and earth, what will come of it! Would to God -I had not listened to that rascal Shanks! Where should I go now for -advice? It must not be to him. He would only betray and ruin me--make -me the scape-goat--pretend that I had deceived him, I dare say. Oh, he -is a precious villain, and Mrs. Hazleton knows that too well to trust -him even with a pitiful mortgage--Mrs. Hazleton--I will go to her. She -is always kind to me, and she is devilish clever too--knows a good -deal more than Shanks if she did but understand the law--I will go to -her---she will tell me how to manage."</p> - -<p class="normal">No time was to be lost. Ride as hard as he could it would take him -more than an hour to reach Mrs. Hazleton's house, and it was already -late. He ordered a horse to be saddled instantly, ran to his bedroom, -drew on his boots, and then, descending to the hall, stood swearing at -the slowness of the groom till the sound of hoofs made him run to the -door. In a moment he was in the saddle and away, much to the -astonishment of the servants, who puzzled themselves a little as to -what intelligence their young master could have received, and then -proceeded to console themselves according to the laws and ordinances -of the servants' hall in such cases made and provided. The wine he had -left upon the table disappeared with great celerity, and the butler, -who was a man of precision, arrayed a good number of small silver -articles and valuable trinkets in such a way as to be packed up and -removed with great facility and secrecy.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile John Ayliffe rode on at a furious pace, avoiding a -road which would have led him close by Mr. Shanks's dwelling, and -reached, Mrs. Hazleton's door about nine o'clock.</p> - -<p class="normal">That lady was sitting in a small room behind the drawing-room, which I -have already mentioned, where John Ayliffe was announced once more as -Sir John Hastings. But Mrs. Hazleton, in personal appearance at least, -was much changed since she was first introduced to the reader. She was -still wonderfully handsome. She had still that indescribable air of -calm, high-bred dignity which we are often foolishly inclined to -ascribe to noble feelings and a high heart; but which--where it is not -an art, an acquirement--only indicates, I am inclined to believe, when -it has any moral reference at all, strength of character and great -self-reliance. But Mrs. Hazleton was older--looked older a good -deal--more so than the time which had passed would alone account for. -The passions of the last two or three years had worn her sadly, and -probably the struggle to conceal those passions had worn her as much. -Nevertheless, she had grown somewhat fat under their influence, and a -wrinkle here and there in the fair skin was contradicted by the -plumpness of her figure.</p> - -<p class="normal">She rose with quiet, easy grace to meet her young guest, and held out -her hand to him, saying, "Really, my dear Sir John, you must not pay -me such late visits or I shall have scandal busying herself with my -good name."</p> - -<p class="normal">But even as she spoke she perceived the traces of violent agitation -which had not yet departed from John Ayliffe's visage, and she added, -"What is the matter? Has any thing gone wrong?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Every thing is going to the devil, I believe," said John Ayliffe, as -soon as the servant had closed the door. "They have found out my -mother at St. Germain."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused there to see what effect this first intelligence would -produce, and it was very great; for Mrs. Hazleton well knew that upon -the concealment of his mother's existence had depended one of the -principal points in his suit against Sir Philip Hastings. What was -going on in her mind, however, appeared not in her countenance. She -paused in silence, indeed, for a moment or two, and then said in her -sweet musical voice, "Well, Sir John, is that all?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Enough too, dear Mrs. Hazleton!" replied the young man. "Why you -surely remember that it was judged absolutely necessary she should be -supposed dead--you yourself said, when we were talking of it, 'Send -her to France.' Don't you remember?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No I do not," answered Mrs. Hazleton, thoughtfully; "and if I did it -could only be intended to save the poor thing from all the torment of -being cross-examined in a court of justice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, she has been cross-examined enough in France nevertheless," said -the young man bitterly, "and she has told every thing, Mrs. -Hazleton--all that she knew, and I dare say all that she guessed."</p> - -<p class="normal">This news was somewhat more interesting than even the former; it -touched Mrs. Hazleton personally to a certain extent, for all that -Jane Ayliffe knew and all that she guessed might comprise a great deal -that Mrs. Hazleton would not have liked the world to know or guess -either. She retained all her presence of mind however, and replied -quite quietly "Really, Sir John, I cannot at all form a judgment of -these things, or give you either assistance or advice, as I am anxious -to do, unless you explain the whole matter fully and clearly. What has -your mother done which seems to have affected you so much? Let me hear -the whole details, then I can judge and speak with some show of -reason. But calm yourself, calm yourself, my dear sir. We often at the -first glance of any unpleasant intelligence take fright, and thinking -the danger ten times greater than it really is, run into worse dangers -in trying to avoid it. Let me hear all, I say, and then I will -consider what is to be done."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now Mrs. Hazleton had already, from what she had just heard, -determined precisely and entirely what she would do. She had divined -in an instant that the artful game in which John Ayliffe had been -engaged, and in which she herself had taken a hand, was played out, -and that he was the loser; but it was a very important object with her -to ascertain if possible how far she herself had been compromised by -the revelations of Mrs. Ayliffe. This was the motive of her gentle -questions; for at heart she did not feel the least gentle.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the other hand John Ayliffe was somewhat angry. All frightened -people are angry when they find others a great deal less frightened -than themselves. Drawing forth his mother's letter then, he thrust it -towards Mrs. Hazleton, almost rudely, saying, "Read that, madam, and -you'll soon see all the details, that you could wish for."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton did read it from end to end, postscript and all, and she -saw with infinite satisfaction and delight, that her own name was -never once mentioned in the whole course of that delectable epistle. -As she read that part of the letter, however, in which Mrs. Ayliffe -referred to the very handsome gentlemanly man who had been one of her -unwished for visitors, Mrs. Hazleton said within herself, "This is -Marlow; Marlow has done this!" and tenfold bitterness took possession -of her heart. She folded up the letter with neat propriety, however, -and handed it back to John Ayliffe, saying, in her very sweetest -tones, "Well, I do not think this so very bad as you seem to imagine. -They have found out that your mother is still living, and that is all. -They cannot make much of that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not much of that!" exclaimed John Ayliffe, now nearly driven to -frenzy, "what if they convict one of perjury for swearing she was -dead?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did you swear she was dead?" exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton with an -exceedingly well assumed look of profound astonishment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To be sure I did," he answered. "Why you proposed that she should be -sent away yourself, and Shanks drew out the affidavit."</p> - -<p class="normal">A mingled look of consternation and indignation came into Mrs. -Hazleton's beautiful face; but before she could make any reply he went -on, thinking he had frightened her; which was in itself a satisfaction -and a sort of triumph.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that you did," he said, "and not only that, but you advanced me -all the money to carry on the suit, and I am told that that is -punishable by law. Besides, you knew quite well of the leaf being torn -out of the register, so we are in the same basket I can tell you, Mrs. -Hazleton."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir, you insult me," said the lady, rising with an air of imperious -dignity. "The charity which induced me to advance you different sums -of money, without knowing what they were to be applied to--and I can -prove that some of them were applied to very different purposes than a -suit at law--has been misunderstood, I see. Had I advanced them to -carry on this suit, they would have been paid to your and my lawyer, -not to yourself. Not a word more, if you please! You have mistaken my -character as well as my motives, if you suppose that I will suffer you -to remain here one moment after you have insulted me by the very -thought that I was any sharer in your nefarious transactions." She -spoke in a loud shrill tone, knowing that the servants were in the -hall hard by, and then she added, "Save me the pain, sir, of ordering -some of the men to put you out of the house by quitting it directly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes, I will go, I will go," cried John Ayliffe, now quite -maddened, "I will go to the devil, and you too, madam," and he burst -out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can compassionate misfortune," cried Mrs. Hazleton, raising her -voice to the very highest pitch for the benefit of others, "but I will -have nothing to do with roguery and fraud," and as she heard his -horse's feet clatter over the terrace, she heartily wished he might -break his neck before he passed the park gates. How far she was -satisfied, and how far she was not, must be shown in another chapter.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXV.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">John Ayliffe got out of the park gates quite safely, though he -rode -down the slope covered with loose stones, as if he had no -consideration for his own neck or his horse's knees. He was in a state -of desperation, however, and feared little at that moment what became -of himself or any thing else. With fierce and angry eagerness he -revolved in his own mind the circumstances of his situation, the -conduct of Mrs. Hazleton, the folly, as he was pleased to term it, of -his mother, the crimes which he had himself committed, and he found no -place of refuge in all the dreary waste of thought. Every thing around -looked menacing and terrible, and the world within was all dark and -stormy.</p> - -<p class="normal">He pushed his horse some way on the road which he had come, but -suddenly a new thought struck him. He resolved to seek advice and aid -from one whom he had previously determined to avoid. "I will go to -Shanks," he said to himself, "he at least is in the same basket with -myself. He must work with me, for if my mother has been fool enough to -keep my letters, I have been wise enough to keep his--perhaps -something may be done after all. If not, he shall go along with me, -and we will try if we cannot bring that woman in too. He can prove all -her sayings and doings." Thus thinking, he turned his horse's head -towards the lawyer's house, and rode as hard as he could go till he -reached it.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Shanks was enjoying life over a quiet comfortable bowl of punch in -a little room which looked much more tidy and comfortable, than it had -done twelve or eighteen months before. Mr. Shanks had been well paid. -Mr. Shanks had taken care of himself. No small portion of back rents -and costs had gone into the pockets of Mr. Shanks. Mr. Shanks was all -that he had ever desired to be, an opulent man. Moreover, he was one -of those happily constituted mortals who know the true use of -wealth--to make it a means of enjoyment. He had no scruples of -conscience--not he. He little cared how the money came, so that it -found its way into his pocket. He was not a man to let his mind be -troubled by any unpleasant remembrances; for he had a maxim that every -man's duty was to do the very best he could for his client, and that -every man's first client was himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">He heard a horse stop at his door, and having made up his mind to end -the night comfortably, to finish his punch and go to bed, he might -perhaps have been a little annoyed, had he not consoled himself with -the thought that the call must be upon business of importance, and he -had no idea of business of importance unconnected with that of a large -fee.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To draw a will, I'll bet any money," said Mr. Shanks to himself; "it -is either old Sir Peter, dying of indigestion, and sent for me when -he's no longer able to speak, or John Ayliffe broken his neck leaping -over a five-barred gate--John Ayliffe, bless us all, Sir John Hastings -I should have said."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the natural voice of John Ayliffe, asking for him in a loud -impatient tone, dispelled these visions of his fancy, and in another -moment the young man was in the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Sir John, very glad to see you, very glad to see you," said Mr. -Shanks, shaking his visitor's hand, and knocking out the ashes of his -pipe upon the hob; "just come in pudding time, my dear sir--just in -time for a glass of punch--bring some more lemons and some sugar, -Betty. A glass of punch will do you good. It is rather cold to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As hot as h--l," answered John Ayliffe, sharply; "but I'll have the -punch notwithstanding," and he seated himself while the maid proceeded -to fulfil her master's orders.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Shanks evidently saw that something had gone wrong with his young -and distinguished client, but anticipating no evil, he was led to -consider whether it was any thing referring to a litter of puppies, a -favorite horse, a fire at the hall, a robbery, or a want of some more -ready money.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, however, the fresh lemons and sugar were brought, and the -door closed, before which, time John Ayliffe had helped himself to -almost all the punch which he had found remaining in the bowl. It was -not much, but it was strong, and Mr. Shanks applied himself to the -preparation of some more medicine of the same sort. John Ayliffe -suffered him to finish before he said any thing to disturb him, not -from any abstract reverence for the office which Mr. Shanks was -fulfilling, or for love of the beverage he was brewing, but simply -because John Ayliffe began to find that he might as well consider his -course a little. Consideration seldom served him very much, and in the -present instance, after he had labored hard to find out the best way -of breaking the matter, his impetuosity as usual got the better of -him, and he thrust his mother's letter into Mr. Shanks's hand, out of -which as a preliminary he took the ladle and helped himself to another -glass of punch.</p> - -<p class="normal">The consternation of Mr. Shanks, as he read Mrs. Ayliffe's letter, -stood out in strong opposition to Mrs. Hazleton's sweet calmness. He -was evidently as much terrified as his client; for Mr. Shanks did not -forget that he had written Mrs. Ayliffe two letters since she was -abroad, and as she had kept her son's epistles, Mr. Shanks argued that -it was very likely she had kept his also. Their contents, taken alone, -might amount to very little, but looked at in conjunction with other -circumstances might amount to a great deal.</p> - -<p class="normal">True, Mr. Shanks had avoided, as far as he could, any discussions in -regard to the more delicate secrets of his profession in the presence -of Mrs. Ayliffe, of whose discretion he was not as firmly convinced as -he could have desired; but it was not always possible to do so, -especially when he had been obliged to seek John Ayliffe in haste at -her house; and now the memories of many long and dangerous -conversations which had occurred in her presence, spread themselves -out before his eyes in a regular row, like items on the leaves of a -ledger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good God!" he cried, "what has she done?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Every thing she ought not to have done, of course!" replied John -Ayliffe, replenishing his glass, "but the question now, is, Shanks, -what are we to do? That is the great question just now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is indeed," answered Mr. Shanks, in great agitation; "this is very -awkward, very awkward indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know that," answered John Ayliffe, laconically.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well but, sir, what is to be done?" asked Mr. Shanks, fidgeting -uneasily about the table.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is what I come to ask you, not to tell you," answered the young -man; "you see, Shanks, you and I are exactly in the same case, only I -have more to lose than you have. But whatever happens to me will -happen to you, depend upon it. I am not going to be the only one, -whatever Mrs. Hazleton may think."</p> - -<p class="normal">Shanks caught at Mrs. Hazleton's name; "Ay, that's a good thought," he -said, "we had better go and consult her. Let us put our three heads -together, and we may beat them yet--perhaps."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No use of going to her," answered John Ayliffe, bitterly; "I have -been to her, and she is a thorough vixen. She cried off having any -thing to do with me, and when I just told her quietly that, she ought -to help me out of the scrape because she had a hand in getting me into -it, she flew at my throat like a terrier bitch with a litter of -puppies, barked me out of the house as if I had been a beggar, and -called me almost rogue and swindler in the hearing of her own -servants."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Shanks smiled--he could not refrain from smiling with a feeling of -admiration and respect, even in that moment of bitter apprehension, at -the decision, skill, and wisdom of Mrs. Hazleton's conduct. He -approved of her highly; but he perceived quite plainly that it would -not do for him to play the same game. A hope--a feeble hope--light -through a loop-hole, came in upon him in regard to the future, -suggested by Mrs. Hazleton's conduct. He thought that if he could but -clear away some difficulties, he too might throw all blame upon John -Ayliffe, and shovel the load of infamy from his own shoulders to those -of his client; but to effect this, it was not only necessary that he -should soothe John Ayliffe, but that he should provide for his safety -and escape. Recriminations he was aware were very dangerous things, -and that unless a man takes care that it shall not be in the power or -for the interest of a fellow rogue to say _tu quoque_, the effort to -place the burden on his shoulders only injures him without making our -own case a bit better. It was therefore requisite for his purposes -that he should deprive John Ayliffe of all interest or object in -criminating him; but foolish knaves are very often difficult to deal -with, and he knew his young client to be eminent in that class. -Wishing for a little time to consider, he took occasion to ask one or -two meaningless questions, without at all attending to the replies.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When did this letter arrive here?" he inquired.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This very night," answered John Ayliffe, "not three hours ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you think she has really told all?" asked Mr. Shanks.</p> - -<p class="normal">"All, and a great deal more," replied the young man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How long has she been at St. Germain?" said the lawyer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What the devil does that signify?" said John Ayliffe, growing -impatient.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A great deal, a great deal," replied Mr. Shanks, sagely. "Take some -more punch. You see perhaps we can prove that you and I really thought -her dead at the time the affidavit was made."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Devilish difficult that," said John Ayliffe, taking the punch. "She -wrote to me about some more money just at that time, and I was obliged -to answer her letter and send it, so that if they have got the letters -that won't pass."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We'll try at least," said Mr. Shanks in a bolder tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, but in trying we may burn our fingers worse than ever," said the -young man. "I do not want to be tried for perjury and conspiracy, and -sent to the colonies with the palm of my hand burnt out, whatever you -may do, Shanks."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, that would never do," replied the lawyer. "The first thing to -be done, my dear Sir John, is to provide for your safety, and that can -only be done by your getting out of the way for a time. It is very -natural that a young gentleman of fortune like yourself should go to -travel, and not at all unlikely that he should do so without letting -any one know where he is for a few months. That will be the best plan -for you you must go and travel. They can't well be on the look-out for -you yet, and you can get away quite safely to-morrow morning. You need -not say where you are going, and by that means you will save both -yourself and the property too; for they can't proceed against you in -any way when you are absent."</p> - -<p class="normal">John Ayliffe was not sufficiently versed in the laws of the land to -perceive that Mr. Shanks was telling him a falsehood. "That's a good -thought," he said; "if I can live abroad and keep hold of the rents we -shall be safe enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Certainly, certainly," said Mr. Shanks, "that is the only plan. Then -let them file their bills, or bring their actions or what not. They -cannot compel you to answer if you are not within the realm."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Shanks was calling him all the time, in his own mind, a -jolter-headed ass, but John Ayliffe did not perceive it, and replied -with a touch of good feeling, perhaps inspired by the punch, "But what -is to become of you, Shanks?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I will stay and face it out," replied the lawyer, "with a bold -front. If we do not peach of each other they cannot do much against -us. Mrs. Hazleton dare not commit us, for by so doing she would commit -herself; and your mother's story will not avail very much. As to the -letters, which is the worst part of the business, we must try and -explain those away; but clearly the first thing for you to do is to -get out of England as soon as possible. You can go and see your mother -secretly, and if you can but get her to prevaricate a little in her -testimony it will knock it all up."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, she'll prevaricate enough if they do but press her hard," said -John Ayliffe. "She gets so frightened at the least thing she doesn't -know what she says. But the worst of it is, Shanks, I have not got -money enough to go. I have not got above a hundred guineas in the -house."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Shanks paused and hesitated. It was a very great object with him -to get John Ayliffe out of the country, in order that he might say any -thing he liked of John Ayliffe when his back was turned, but it was -also a very great object with him to keep all the money he had got. He -did not like to part with one sixpence of it. After a few moments' -thought, however, he recollected that a thousand pounds' worth of -plate had come down from London for the young man within the last two -months, and he thought he might make a profitable arrangement.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have got three hundred pounds in the house," he said, "all in good -gold, but I can really hardly afford to part with it. However, rather -than injure you, Sir John, I will let you have it if you will give me -the custody of your plate till your return, just that I may have -something to show if any one presses me for money."</p> - -<p class="normal">The predominant desire of John Ayliffe's mind, at that moment, was to -get out of England as fast as possible, and he was too much blinded by -fear and anxiety to perceive that the great desire of Mr. Shanks was -to get him out. But there was one impediment. The sum of four hundred -pounds thus placed at his command would, some years before, have -appeared the Indies to him, but now, with vastly expanded ideas with -regard to expense, it seemed a drop of water in the ocean. "Three -hundred pounds, Shanks," he said, "what's the use of three hundred -pounds? It would not keep me a month."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God bless my soul!" said Mr. Shanks, horrified at such a notion, "why -it would keep me a whole year, and more too. Moreover, things are -cheaper there than they are here; and besides you have got all those -jewels, and knick-knacks, and things, which cost you at least a couple -of thousand pounds. They would sell for a great deal."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, come, Shanks," said the young man, "you must make it five -hundred guineas. I know you've got them in your strong box here."</p> - -<p class="normal">Shanks shook his head, and John Ayliffe added sullenly, "Then I'll -stay and fight it out too. I won't go and be a beggar in a foreign -land."</p> - -<p class="normal">Shanks did not like the idea of his staying, and after some farther -discussion a compromise was effected. Mr. Shanks agreed to advance -four hundred pounds. John Ayliffe was to make over to him, as a -pledge, the whole of his plate, and not to object to a memorandum to -that effect being drawn up immediately, and dated a month before. The -young man was to set off the very next day, in the pleasant gray of -the morning, driving his own carriage and horses, which he was to sell -as soon as he got a convenient distance from his house, and Mr. Shanks -was to take the very best possible care of his interests during his -absence.</p> - -<p class="normal">John Ayliffe's spirits rose at the conclusion of this transaction. He -calculated that with one thing or another he should have sufficient -money to last him a year, and that was quite as far as his thoughts or -expectations went. A long, long year! What does youth care for any -thing beyond a year? It seems the very end of life to pant in -expectation, and indeed, and in truth, it is very often too long for -fate.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Next year I will"-- Pause, young man! there is a deep pitfall in the -way. Between you and another year may lie death. Next year thou wilt -do nothing--thou wilt be nothing.</p> - -<p class="normal">His spirits rose. He put the money into his pocket, and, with more wit -than he thought, called it "light heaviness," and then he sat down and -smoked a pipe, while Mr. Shanks drew up the paper; and then he drank -punch, and made more, and drank that too, so that when the paper -giving Mr. Shanks a lien upon the silver was completed, and when a -dull neighbor had been called in to see him sign his name, it needed a -witness indeed to prove that that name was John Ayliffe's writing.</p> - -<p class="normal">By this time he would very willingly have treated the company to a -song, so complete had been the change which punch and new prospects -had effected; but Mr. Shanks besought him to be quiet, hinting that -the neighbor, though as deaf as a post and blind as a mole, would -think him as the celebrated sow of the psalmist. Thereupon John -Ayliffe went forth and got his horse out of the stable, mounted upon -his back, and rode lolling at a sauntering pace through the end of the -town in which Mr. Shanks's house was situated. When he got more into -the Country he began to trot, then let the horse fall into a walk -again, and then he beat him for going slow. Thus alternately -galloping, walking, and trotting, he rode on till he was two or three -hundred yards past the gates of what was called the Court, where the -family of Sir Philip Hastings now lived. It was rather a dark part of -the road, and there was something white in the hedge--some linen -put out to dry, or a milestone. John Ayliffe was going at a quick -pace at that moment, and the horse suddenly shied at this white -apparition--not only shied, but started, wheeled round, and ran back. -John Ayliffe kept his seat, notwithstanding his tipsiness, but he -struck the furious horse over the head, and pulled the rein violently. -The annual plunged--reared--the young man gave the rein a furious tug, -and over went the horse upon the road, with his driver under him.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">There was a man lay upon the road in the darkness of the night -for -some five or six minutes, and a horse galloped away snorting, with a -broken bridle hanging at his head, on the way towards the park of Sir -Philip Hastings. Had any carriage come along, the man who was lying -there must have been run over; for the night was exceedingly dark, and -the road narrow. All was still and silent, however. No one was seen -moving--not a sound was heard except the distant clack of a water-mill -which lay further down the valley. There was a candle in a cottage -window at about a hundred yards' distance, which shot a dim and feeble -ray athwart the road, but shed no light on the spot where the man lay. -At the end of about six minutes, a sort of convulsive movement showed -that life was not yet extinct in his frame--a sort of heave of the -chest, and a sudden twitch of the arm; and a minute or two after, John -Ayliffe raised himself on his elbow, at put his hand to his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Curse the brute," he said, in a wandering sort of way, "I wonder, -Shanks, you don't--damn it, where am I?--what's the matter? My side -and leg are cursed sore, and my head all running round."</p> - -<p class="normal">He remained in the same position for a moment or two more, and then -got upon his feet; but the instant he did so he fell to the ground -again with a deep groan, exclaiming, "By--, my leg's broken, and I -believe my ribs too. How the devil shall I get out of this scrape? -Here I may lie and die, without any body ever coming near me. That is -old Jenny Best's cottage, I believe. I wonder if I could make the old -canting wretch hear," and he raised his voice to shout, but the pain -was two great. His ribs were indeed broken, and pressing upon his -lungs, and all that he could do was to lie still and groan.</p> - -<p class="normal">About a quarter of an hour after, however, a stunt, middle-aged -man--rather, perhaps, in the decline of life--came by, carrying a -hand-basket, plodding at a slow and weary pace as if he had had a long -walk.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who's that? Is any one there?" said a feeble voice, as he approached; -and he ran up, exclaiming, "Gracious me, what is the matter? Are you -hurt, sir? What has happened?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is that you, Best?" said the feeble voice of John Ayliffe, "my horse -has reared and fallen over with me. My leg is broken, and the bone -poking through, and my ribs are broken too, I think."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay a minute, Sir John," said the good countryman, "and I'll get -help, and we'll carry you up to the Hall."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," answered John Ayliffe, who had now had time for thought, -"get a mattress, or a door, or something, and carry me into your -cottage. If your son is at home, he and you can carry me. Don't send -for strangers."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I dare say he is at home, sir," replied the man. "He's a good lad, -sir, and comes home as soon as his work's done. I will go and see. I -won't be a minute."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was as good as his word, and in less than a minute returned with -his son, bringing a lantern and a straw mattress.</p> - -<p class="normal">Not without inflicting great pain, and drawing forth many a heavy -groan, the old man and the young one placed John Ayliffe on the -paliasse, and carried him into the cottage, where he was laid upon -young Best's bed in the back room. Good Jenny Best, as John Ayliffe -had called her--an excellent creature as ever lived--was all kindness -and attention, although to say truth the suffering man had not shown -any great kindness to her and hers in his days of prosperity. She was -eager to send off her son immediately for the surgeon, and did so in -the end; but to the surprise of the whole of the little cottage party, -it was not without a great deal of reluctance and hesitation that John -Ayliffe suffered this to be done. They showed him, however, that he -must die or lose his limb if surgical assistance was not immediately -procured, and he ultimately consented, but told the young man -repeatedly not to mention his name even to the surgeon on any account, -but simply to say that a gentleman had been thrown by his horse, and -brought into the cottage with his thigh broken. He cautioned father -and mother too not to mention the accident to any one till he was well -again, alluding vaguely to reasons that he had for wishing to conceal -it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, Sir John," replied Best himself, "your horse will go home, -depend upon it, and your servants will not know where you are, and -there will be a fuss about you all over the country."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, let them make a fuss," said John Ayliffe, impatiently. "I -don't care--I will not have it mentioned."</p> - -<p class="normal">All this seemed very strange to the good wan and his wife, but they -could only open their eyes and stare, without venturing farther to -oppose the wishes of their guest.</p> - -<p class="normal">It seemed a very long time before the surgeon made his appearance, but -at length the sound of a horse's feet coming fast, could be -distinguished, and two minutes after the surgeon was in the room. He -was a very good man, though not the most skilful of his profession, -and he was really shocked and confounded when he saw the state of Sir -John Hastings, as he called him. Wanting confidence in himself, he -would fain have sent off immediately for farther assistance, but John -Ayliffe would not hear of such a thing, and the good man went to work -to set the broken limb as best he might, and relieve the anguish of -the sufferer. So severe, however, were the injuries which had been -received, that notwithstanding a strong constitution, as yet but -little impaired by debauchery, the patient was given over by the -surgeon in his own mind from the first. He remained with him, watching -him all night, which passed nearly without sleep on the part of John -Ayliffe; and in the course of the long waking hours he took an -opportunity of enjoining secrecy upon the surgeon as to the accident -which had happened to him, and the place where he was lying. Not less -surprised was the worthy man than the cottager and his wife had been -at the young gentleman's exceeding anxiety for concealment, and as his -licentious habits were no secret in the country round, they all -naturally concluded that the misfortune which had overtaken him had -occurred in the course of some adventure more dangerous and -disgraceful than usual.</p> - -<p class="normal">Towards morning John Ayliffe fell into a sort of semi-sleep, restless -and perturbed, speaking often without reason having guidance of his -words, and uttering many things which, though disjointed and often -indistinct, showed the good man who had watched by him that the mind -was as much affected as the body. He woke confused and wandering about -eight o'clock, but speedily returned to consciousness of his -situation, and insisted, notwithstanding the pain he was suffering, -upon examining the money which was in his pockets to see that it was -all right. Vain precaution! He was never destined to need it more.</p> - -<p class="normal">Shortly after the surgeon left him, but returned at night again to -watch by his bedside. The bodily symptoms which he now perceived would -have led him to believe that a cure was possible, but there was a deep -depression of mind, a heavy irritable sombreness, from the result of -which the surgeon augured much evil. He saw that there was some -terrible weight upon the young man's heart, but whether it was fear or -remorse or disappointment he could not tell, and more than once he -repeated to himself, "He wants a priest as much as a physician."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again the surgeon would often argue with himself in regard to the -propriety of telling him the very dangerous state in which he was. "He -may at any time become delirious," he said, "and lose all power of -making those dispositions and arrangements which, I dare say, have -never been thought of in the time of health and prosperity. Then, -again, his house and all that it contains is left entirely in the -hands of servants-a bad set too, as ever existed, who are just as -likely to plunder and destroy as not; but on the other hand, if I tell -him it may only increase his dejection and cut off all hope of -recovery. Really I do not know what to do. Perhaps it would be better -to wait awhile, and if I should see more unfavorable symptoms and no -chance left, it will then be time enough to tell him his true -situation and prepare his mind for the result."</p> - -<p class="normal">Another restless, feverish night passed, another troubled sleep -towards morning, and then John Ayliffe woke with a start, exclaiming, -"You did not tell them I was here--lying here unable to stir, unable -to move--I told you not, I told you not. By--" and then he looked -round, and seeing none but the surgeon in the room, relapsed into -silence.</p> - -<p class="normal">The surgeon felt his pulse, examined the bandages, and saw that a -considerable and unfavorable change had taken place; but yet he -hesitated. He was one of those men who shrink from the task of telling -unpleasant truths. He was of a gentle and a kindly disposition, which -even the necessary cruelties of surgery had not been able to harden.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He may say what he likes," he said, "I must have some advice as to -how I should act. I will go and talk with the parson about the matter. -Though a little lacking in the knowledge of the world, yet Dixwell is -a good man and a sincere Christian. I will see him as I go home, but -make him promise secrecy in the first place, as this young baronet is -so terribly afraid of the unfortunate affair being known. He will die, -I am afraid, and that before very long, and I am sure he is not in a -fit state for death." With this resolution he said some soothing words -to his patient, gave him what he called a composing draught, and sent -for his horse from a neighboring farm-house, where he had lodged it -for the night. He then rode at a quiet, thoughtful pace to the -parsonage house at the gates of the park, and quickly walked in. Mr. -Dixwell was at breakfast, reading slowly one of the broad sheets of -the day as an especial treat, for they seldom found their way into his -quiet rectory; but he was very glad to see the surgeon, with whom he -often contrived to have a pleasant little chat in regard to the -affairs of the neighborhood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Mr. Short, very glad to see you, my good friend. How go things in -your part of the world? We are rather in a little bustle here, though -I think it is no great matter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it, Mr. Dixwell?" asked the surgeon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only that wild young man, Sir John Hastings," said the clergyman, -"left his house suddenly on horseback the night before last, and has -never returned. But he is accustomed to do all manner of strange -things, and has often been out two or three nights before without any -one knowing where he was. The butler came down and spoke to me about -it, but I think there was a good deal of affectation in his alarm, for -when I asked him he owned his master had once been away for a whole -week."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Has his horse come back?" asked the surgeon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not that I know of," replied Mr. Dixwell. "I suppose the man would -have mentioned it if such had been the case. But what is going on at -Hartwell?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing particular," said the surgeon, "only Mrs. Harrison brought -to bed of twins on Saturday night at twenty minutes past eleven. I -think all those Harrisons have twins--but I have something to talk to -you about, my good friend, a sort of case of conscience I want to put -to you. Only you must promise me profound secrecy."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Dixwell laughed--"What, under the seal of confession?" he said. -"Well, well, I am no papist, as you know, Short, but I'll promise and -do better than any papist does, keep my word when I have promised -without mental reservation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know you will, my good friend," answered the surgeon, "and this is -no jesting matter, I can assure you. Now listen, my good friend, -listen. Not many evenings ago, I was sent for suddenly to attend a -young man who had met with an accident, a very terrible accident too. -He had a compound fracture of the thigh, three of his ribs broken, and -his head a good deal knocked about, but the cranium uninjured. I had -at first tolerable hope of his recovery; but he is getting much worse -and I fear that he will die."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, you can't help that," said Mr. Dixwell, "men will die in spite -of all you can do, Short, just as they will sin in spite of all I can -say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, there's the rub," said the surgeon, "I fear he has sinned a very -tolerably sufficient quantity, and I can see that there is something -or another weighing very heavy on his mind, which is even doing great -harm to his body."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will go and see him, I will go and see him," said Mr. Dixwell, "it -will do him good in all ways to unburden his conscience, and to hear -the comfortable words of the gospel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the case is, Mr. Dixwell," said Short, "that he has positively -forbidden me to let any of his friends know where he lies, or to speak -of the accident to any one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pooh, nonsense," said the clergyman, "if a man has fractured his -skull and you thought it fit to trepan him, would you ask him whether -he liked it or not? If the young man is near death, and his conscience -is burdened, I am the physician who should be sent for rather than -you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fancy his conscience is burdened a good deal," said Mr. Short, -thoughtfully; "nay, I cannot help thinking that he was engaged in some -very bad act at the time this happened, both from his anxiety to -conceal from every body where he now lies, and from various words he -has dropped, sometimes in his sleep, sometimes when waking confused -and half delirious. What puzzles me is, whether I should tell him his -actual situation or not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell him, tell him by all means," said Mr. Dixwell, "why should you -not tell him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Simply because I think that it will depress his mind still more," -replied the surgeon, "and that may tend to deprive him even of the -very small chance that exists of recovery."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The soul is of more value than the body," replied the clergyman, -earnestly; "if he be the man you depict, my friend, he should have as -much time as possible to prepare--he should have time to repent--ay, -and to atone. Tell him by all means, or let me know where he is to be -found, and I will tell him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I must not do," said Mr. Short, "for I am under a sort of -promise not to tell; but if you really think that I ought to tell him -myself, I will go back and do it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I really think!" exclaimed Mr. Dixwell, "I have not the slightest -doubt of it. It is your bounden duty if you be a Christian. Not only -tell him, my good friend, but urge him strongly to send for some -minister of religion. Though friends may fail him, and he may not wish -to see them--though all worldly supports may give way beneath him, and -he may find no strengthening--though all earthly hopes may pass away, -and give him no mortal cheer, the gospel of Christ can never fail to -support, and strengthen, and comfort, and elevate. The sooner he knows -that his tenement of clay is falling to the dust of which it was -raised, the better will be his readiness to quit it, and it is wise, -most wise, to shake ourselves free altogether from the dust and -crumbling ruins of this temporal state, ere they fall upon our heads -and bear us down to the same destruction as themselves."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, I will go back and tell him," said Mr. Short, and bidding -the good rector adieu, he once more mounted his horse and rode away.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now Mr. Dixwell was an excellent good man, but he was not without -certain foibles, especially those that sometimes accompany -considerable simplicity of character. "I will see which way he takes," -said Mr. Dixwell, "and go and visit the young man myself if I can find -him out;" and accordingly he marched up stairs to his bedroom, which -commanded a somewhat extensive prospect of the country, and traced the -surgeon, as he trotted slowly and thoughtfully along. He could not -actually see the cottage of the Bests, but he perceived that the -surgeon there passed over the brow of the hill, and after waiting for -several minutes, he did not catch any horseman rising upon the -opposite slope over which the road was continued. Now there was no -cross road in the hollow and only three houses, and therefore Mr. -Dixwell naturally concluded that to one of those three houses the -surgeon had gone.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while, Mr. Short rode on unconscious that his movements -were observed, and meditating with a troubled mind upon the best means -of conveying the terrible intelligence he had to communicate. He did -not like the task at all; but yet he resolved to perform it manfully, -and dismounting at the cottage door, he went in again. There was -nobody within but the sick man and good old Jenny Best. The old woman -was at the moment in the outer room, and when she saw the surgeon she -shook her head, and said in a low voice, "Ah, dear, I am glad you have -come back again, sir, he does not seem right at all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who's that?" said the voice of John Ayliffe; and going in, Mr. Short -closed the doors between the two rooms.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, don't shut that door," said John Ayliffe, "it is so infernally -close--I don't feel at all well, Mr. Short--I don't know what's the -matter with me. It's just as if I had got no heart. I think a glass of -brandy would do me good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would kill you," said the surgeon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well," said the young man, "I'm not sure that would not be best for -me--come," he continued sharply, "tell me how long I am to lie here on -my back?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I cannot tell, Sir John," replied the surgeon, "but at all -events, supposing that you do recover, and that every thing goes well, -you could not hope to move for two or three months."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Supposing I was to recover!" repeated John Ayliffe in a low tone, as -if the idea of approaching death had then, for the first time, struck -him as something real and tangible, and not a mere name. He paused -silently for an instant, and then asked almost fiercely, "what brought -you back?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Sir John, I thought it might be better for us to have a little -conversation," said the surgeon. "I can't help being afraid, Sir John, -that you may have a great number of things to settle, and that not -anticipating such a very severe accident, your affairs may want a good -deal of arranging. Now the event of all sickness is uncertain, and an -accident such as this especially. It is my duty to inform you," he -continued, rising in resolution and energy as he proceeded, "that your -case is by no means free from danger--very great danger indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you mean to say that I am dying?" asked John Ayliffe, in a hoarse -voice.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, not exactly dying," said the surgeon, putting his hand upon -his pulse, "not dying I trust just yet, but--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I shall die, you mean?" cried the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think it not at all improbable," answered the surgeon, gravely, -"that the case may have a fatal result."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Curse fatal results," cried John Ayliffe, giving way to a burst of -fury; "why the devil do you come back to tell me such things and make -me wretched? If I am to die, why can't you let me die quietly and know -nothing about it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Sir John, I thought that you might have many matters to settle," -answered the surgeon somewhat irritated, "and that your temporal and -your spiritual welfare also required you should know your real -situation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Spiritual d----d nonsense!" exclaimed John Ayliffe, furiously; "I -dare say it's all by your folly and stupidity that I am likely to die -at all. Why I hear of men breaking their legs and their ribs every day -and being none the worse for it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Sir John, if you do not like my advice you need not have it," -answered the surgeon; "I earnestly wished to send for other -assistance, and you would not let me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, go away, go away and leave me," said John Ayliffe; but as the -surgeon took up his hat and walked towards the door, he added, "come -again at night. You shall be well paid for it, never fear."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Short made no reply, but walked out of the room.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Solitude and silence, and bitter thought are great tamers of -the human -heart. "As ye sow, so shall ye reap," says the Apostle, and John -Ayliffe was now forced to put in the sickle. Death was before his -eyes, looming large and dark and terrible, like the rock of adamant in -the fairy tale, against which the bark of the adventurous mariner was -sure to be dashed. Death for the first time presented itself to his -mind in all its grim reality. Previously it had seemed with him a -thing hardly worth considering--inevitable--appointed to all men--to -every thing that lives and breathes--no more to man than to the sheep, -or the ox, or any other of the beasts that perish. He had contemplated -it merely as death--as the extinction of being--as the goal of a -career--as the end of a chase where one might lie down and rest, and -forget the labor and the clamor and the trouble of the course. He had -never in thought looked beyond the boundary--he had hardly asked -himself if there was aught beyond. He had satisfied himself by saying, -as so many men do, "Every man must die some time or another," and had -never asked his own heart, "What is it to die?"</p> - -<p class="normal">But now death presented itself under a new aspect; cold and stern, -relentless and mysterious, saying in a low solemn tone, "I am the -guide. Follow me there. Whither I lead thou knowest not, nor seest -what shall befall thee. The earth-worm and the mole fret but the -earthly garment of the man; the flesh, and the bones, and the beauty -go down to dust, and ashes, and corruption. The man comes with me to a -land undeclared--to a presence infinitely awful--to judgment and to -fate; for on this side of the dark portal through which I am the -guide, there is no such thing as fate. It lies beyond the grave, and -thither thou must come without delay."</p> - -<p class="normal">He had heard of immortality, but he had never thought of it. He had -been told of another world, but he had never rightly believed in it. -The thought of a just judge, and of an eternal doom, had been -presented to him in many shapes, but he had never received it; and he -had lived and acted, and thought and felt, as if there were neither -eternity, nor judgment, nor punishment. But in that dread hour the -deep-rooted, inexplicable conviction of a God and immortality, -implanted in the hearts of all men, and only crushed down in the -breasts of any by the dust of vanity and the lumber of the world, -rose up and bore its fruits according to the soil. They were all -bitter. If there were another life, a judgment, an eternity of weal or -woe, what was to be his fate? How should he meet the terrors of the -judgment-seat--he who had never prayed from boyhood--he who through -life had never sought God--he who had done in every act something that -conscience reproved, and that religion forbade?</p> - -<p class="normal">Every moment as he lay there and thought, the terrors of the vast -unbounded future grew greater and more awful. The contemplation almost -drove him to frenzy, and he actually made an effort to rise from his -bed, but fell back again with a deep groan. The sound caught the ear -of good Jenny Best, and running in she asked if he wanted any thing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay with me, stay with me," said the unhappy young man, "I cannot -bear this--it is very terrible--I am dying, Mrs. Best, I am dying."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Best shook her head with a melancholy look; but whether from -blunted feelings, from the hard and painful life which they endured, -or from a sense that there is to be compensation somewhere, and that -any change must be for the better, or cannot be much worse than the -life of this earth, or from want of active imagination, the poorer and -less educated classes I have generally remarked view death and all its -accessories with less of awe, if not of dread, than those who have -been surrounded by luxuries, and perhaps have used every effort to -keep the contemplation of the last dread scene afar, till it is -actually forced upon their notice. Her words were homely, and though -intended to comfort did not give much consolation to the dying man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah well, sir, it is very sad," she said, "to die so young; though -every one must die sooner or later, and it makes but little difference -whether it be now or then. Life is not so long to look back at, sir, -as to look forward to, and when one dies young one is spared many a -thing. I recollect my poor eldest son who is gone, when he lay dying -just like you in that very bed, and I was taking on sadly, he said to -me, 'Mother don't cry so. It's just as well for me to go now when I've -not done much mischief or suffered much sorrow.' He was as good a -young man as ever lived; and so Mr. Dixwell said; for the parson used -to come and see him every day, and that was a great comfort and -consolation to the poor boy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was it?" said John Ayliffe, thoughtfully. "How long did he know he -was dying?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not much above a week, sir," said Mrs. Best; "for till Mr. Dixwell -told him, he always thought he would get better. We knew it a long -time however, for he had been in a decline a year, and his father had -been laying by money for the funeral three months before he died. So -when it was all over we put him by quite comfortable."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Put him by!" said John Ayliffe.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, sir, we buried him, I mean," answered Mrs. Best. "That's our way -of talking. But Mr. Dixwell had been to see him long before. He knew -that he was dying, and he wouldn't tell him as long as there was any -hope; for he said it was not necessary--that he had never seen any one -better prepared to meet his Maker than poor Robert, and that it was no -use to disturb him about the matter till it came very near."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Dixwell is a wise man and a good man," said John Ayliffe. "I -should very much like to see him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can run for him in a minute sir," said Dame Best, but John Ayliffe -replied, in a faint voice, "No, no, don't, don't on any account."</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while, the very person of whom they were speaking had -descended from the up-stairs room, finished his breakfast in order to -give the surgeon time to fulfil his errand, and then putting on his -three-cornered hat had walked out to ascertain at what house Mr. Short -had stopped. The first place at which he inquired was the farm-house -at which the good surgeon had stabled his horse on the preceding -night. Entering by the kitchen door, he found the good woman of the -place bustling about amongst pots and pans and maidservants, and other -utensils, and though she received him with much reverence, she did not -for a moment cease her work.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Dame," he said, "I hope you're all well here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite well, your reverence----Betty, empty that pail."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, I've seen Mr. Short come down here," said the parson, "and I -thought somebody might be ill."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very kind, your reverence--mind yen don't spill it.--No, it warn't -here. It's some young man down at Jenny Best's, who's baddish, I -fancy, for the Doctor stabled his horse here last night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am glad to hear none of you are ill," said Mr. Dixwell, and bidding -her good morning, he walked away straight to the cottage where John -Ayliffe lay. There was no one in the outer room, and the good -clergyman, privileged by his cloth, walked straight on into the room -beyond, and stood by the bedside of the dying man before any one was -aware of his presence.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Dixwell was not so much surprised to see there on that bed of -death the face of him he called Sir John Hastings, as might be -supposed. The character which the surgeon had given of his patient, -the mysterious absence of the young man from the Hall, and the very -circumstance of his unwillingness to have his name and the place where -he was lying known, had all lent a suspicion of the truth. John -Ayliffe's eyes were shut at the moment he entered, and he seemed -dozing, though in truth sleep was far away. But the little movement of -Mr. Dixwell towards his bedside, and of Mrs. Best giving place for the -clergyman to sit down, caused him to open his eyes, and his first -exclamation was, "Ah, Dixwell! so that damned fellow Short has -betrayed me, and told when I ordered him not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Swear not at all," said Mr. Dixwell. "Short has not betrayed you, Sir -John. I came here by accident, merely hearing there was a young man -lying ill here, but without knowing actually that it was you, although -your absence from home has caused considerable uneasiness. I am very -sorry to see you in such a state. How did all this happen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not tell you, nor answer a single word," replied John Ayliffe, -"unless you promise not to say a word of my being here to any one. I -know you will keep your word if you say so, and Jenny Best too--won't -you, Jenny?--but I doubt that fellow Short."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You need not doubt him, Sir John," said the clergyman; "for he is -very discreet. As for me, I will promise, and will keep my word; for I -see not what good it could be to reveal it to any body if you dislike -it. You will be more tenderly nursed here, I am sure, than you would -be by unprincipled, dissolute servants, and since your poor mother's -death--"</p> - -<p class="normal">John Ayliffe groaned heavily, and the clergyman stopped. The next -moment, however, the young man said, "Then you do promise, do you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do," replied Mr. Dixwell. "I will not at all reveal the facts -without your consent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, sit down, and let us be alone together for a bit," said -John Ayliffe, and Mrs. Best quietly quitted the room and shut the -door.</p> - -<p class="normal">John Ayliffe turned his languid eyes anxiously upon the clergyman, -saying, "I think I am dying, Mr. Dixwell."</p> - -<p class="normal">He would fain have had a contradiction or even a ray of earthly hope; -but he got none; for it was evident to the eyes of Mr. Dixwell, -accustomed as he had been for many years to attend by the bed of -sickness and see the last spark of life go out, that John Ayliffe was -a dying man--that he might live hours, nay days; but that the -irrevocable summons had been given, that he was within the shadow of -the arch, and must pass through!</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am afraid you are, Sir John," he replied, "but I trust that God -will still afford you time to make preparation for the great change -about to take place, and by his grace I will help you to the utmost in -my power."</p> - -<p class="normal">John Ayliffe was silent, and closed his eyes again. Nor was he the -first to speak; for after having waited for several minutes, Mr. -Dixwell resumed, saying in a grave but kindly tone, "I am afraid, Sir -John, you have not hitherto given much thought to the subject which is -now so sadly fixed upon you. We must make haste, my good sir; we must -not lose a moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then do you think I am going to die so soon?" asked the young man -with a look of horror; for it cost him a hard and terrible struggle to -bring his mind to grasp the thought of death being inevitable and nigh -at hand. He could hardly conceive it--he could hardly believe it--that -he who had so lately been full of life and health, who had been -scheming schemes, and laying out plans, and had looked upon futurity -as a certain possession--that, he was to die in a few short hours; but -whenever the wilful heart would have rebelled against the sentence, -and struggle to resist it, sensations which he had never felt before, -told him in a voice not to be mistaken, "It must be so!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No one can tell," replied Mr. Dixwell, "how soon it may be, or how -long God may spare you; but one thing is certain, Sir John, that years -with you have now dwindled down into days, and that days may very -likely be shortened to hours. But had you still years to live, I -should say the same thing, that no time is to be lost; too much has -been lost already."</p> - -<p class="normal">John Ayliffe did not comprehend him in the least. He could not grasp -the idea as yet of a whole life being made a preparation for death, -and looked vacantly in the clergyman's face, utterly confounded at the -thought.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Dixwell had a very difficult task before him--one of the most -difficult he had ever undertaken; for he had not only to arouse the -conscience, but to awaken the intellect to things importing all to the -soul's salvation, which had never been either felt or believed, or -comprehended before. At first too, there was the natural repugnance -and resistance of a wilful, selfish, over-indulged heart to receive -painful or terrible truths, and even when the obstacle was overcome, -the young man's utter ignorance of religion and want of moral feeling -proved another almost insurmountable. He found that the only access to -John Ayliffe's heart was by the road of terror, and without scruple he -painted in stern and fearful colors the awful state of the impenitent -spirit called suddenly into the presence of its God. With an unpitying -hand he stripped away all self-delusions from the young man's mind and -laid his condition before him, and his future state in all their dark -and terrible reality.</p> - -<p class="normal">This is not intended for what is called a religious book, and -therefore I must pass over the arguments he used, and the course he -proceeded in. Suffice it that he labored earnestly for two hours to -awaken something like repentance in the bosom of John Ayliffe, and he -succeeded in the end better than the beginning had promised. When -thoroughly convinced of the moral danger of his situation, John -Ayliffe began to listen more eagerly, to reply more humbly, and to -seek earnestly for some consolation beyond the earth. His depression -and despair, as terrible truths became known to him were just in -proportion to his careless boldness and audacity while he had remained -in wilful ignorance, and as soon as Mr. Dixwell saw that all the -clinging to earthly expectations was gone--that every frail support of -mortal thoughts was taken away, he began to give him gleams of hope -from another world, and had the satisfaction of finding that the -doubts and terrors which remained arose from the consciousness of his -own sins and crimes, the heavy load of which he felt for the first -time. He told him that repentance was never too late--he showed him -that Christ himself had stamped that great truth with a mark that -could not be mistaken in his pardon of the dying thief upon the cross, -and while he exhorted him to examine himself strictly, and to make -sure that what he felt was real repentance, and not the mere fear of -death which so many mistake for it in their last hours, he assured him -that if he could feel certain of that fact, and trust in his Saviour, -he might comfort himself and rest in good hope. That done, he resolved -to leave the young man to himself for a few hours that he might -meditate and try the great question he had propounded with his own -heart. He called in Mistress Best, however, and told her that if -during his absence Sir John wished her to read to him, it would be a -great kindness to read certain passages of Scripture which he pointed -out in the house Bible. The good woman very willingly undertook the -task, and shortly after the clergyman was gone John Ayliffe applied to -hear the words of that book against which he had previously shut his -ears. He found comfort and consolation and guidance therein; for Mr. -Dixwell, who, on the one subject which had been the study of his life -was wise as well as learned, had selected judiciously such passages as -tend to inspire hope without diminishing penitence.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">We must now turn on more to Sir Philip Hastings as he sat in -his -lonely room in prison. Books had been allowed him, paper, pen, and -ink, and all that could aid to pass the time; but Sir Philip had -matter for study in his own mind, and the books had remained unopened -for several days. Hour after hour, since his interview with Secretary -Vernon, and day after day he had paced that room to and fro, till the -sound of his incessant footfall was a burthen to those below. His hair -had grown very white, the wrinkles on his brow had deepened and become -many, and his head was bowed as if age had pressed it down. As he -walked, his eye beneath his shaggy eyebrow was generally bent upon the -floor, but when any accidental circumstance caused him to raise it--a -distant sound from without, or some thought passing through his own -mind--there was that curious gleam in it which I have mentioned when -describing him in boyhood, but now heightened and rendered somewhat -more wild and mysterious. At those moments the expression of his eyes -amounted almost to fierceness, and yet there was something grand, and -fixed, and calm about the brow which seemed to contradict the -impatient, irritable look.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the moment I now speak of there was an open letter on the table, -written in his daughter's hand, and after having walked up and down -for more than one hour, he sat down as if to answer it. We must look -over his shoulder and see what he writes, as it may in some degree -tend to show the state of his mind, although it was never sent.</p> - -<p class="normal">"MY CHILD" (it was so he addressed the dear girl who had once been the -joy of his heart): "The news which has been communicated to you by -Marlow has been communicated also to me, but has given small relief. -The world is a prison, and it is not very satisfactory to leave one -dungeon to go into a larger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nevertheless, I am desirous of returning to my own house. Your mother -is very ill, with nobody to attend upon her but yourself--at least no -kindred. This situation does not please me. Can I be satisfied that -she will be well and properly cared for? Will a daughter who has -betrayed her father show more piety towards a mother? Who is there -that man can trust?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He was going on in the same strain, and his thoughts becoming more -excited, his language more stern and bitter every moment, when -suddenly he paused, read over the lines he had written with a gleaming -eye, and then bent his head, and fell into thought. No one can tell, -no pen can describe the bitter agony of his heart at that moment. Had -he yielded to the impulse--had he spoken ever so vehemently and -fiercely, it would have been happier for him and for all. But men will -see without knowing it in passing through the world, conventional -notions which they adopt as principles. They fancy them original -thoughts, springing from their own convictions, when in reality they -are bents--biases given to their minds by the minds of other men. The -result is very frequently painful, even where the tendency of the -views received is good. Thus a shrub forced out of its natural -direction may take a more graceful or beautiful form, but there is -ever a danger that the flow of the sap may be stopped, or some of the -branches injured by the process.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," said Sir Philip Hastings, at length, with a false sense of -dignity thus acquired, "no, it is beneath me to reproach her. Punish -her I might, and perhaps I ought; for the deed itself is an offence to -society and to human nature more than to me. To punish her would have -been a duty, even if my own heart's blood had flowed at the same time, -in those ancient days of purer laws and higher principles; but I will -not reproach without punishing. I will be silent. I will say nothing. -I will leave her to her own conscience," and tearing the letter he had -commenced to atoms, he resumed his bitter walk about the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is a terrible and dangerous thing to go on pondering for long -solitary hours on any one subject of deep interest. It is dangerous -even in the open air, under the broad, ever-varying sky, with the -birds upon the bough, and the breeze amongst the trees, and a thousand -objects in bright nature to breathe harmonies to the human heart. It -is dangerous in the midst of crowds and gay scenes of active life so -to shut the spirit up with one solitary idea, which, like the fabled -dragon's egg, is hatched into a monster by long looking at it. But -within the walls of a prison, with nothing to divert the attention, -with nothing to solicit or compel the mind even occasionally to seek -some other course, with no object in external nature, with the -companionship of no fellow being, to appeal to our senses or to awake -our sympathies, the result is almost invariable. An innocent man--a -man who has no one strong passion, or dark, all-absorbing subject of -contemplation, but who seeks for and receives every mode of relief -from the monotony of life that circumstances can afford may endure -perfect solitude for years and live sane, but whoever condemns a -criminal--a man loaded with a great offence--to solitary confinement, -condemns him to insanity--a punishment far more cruel than death or -the rack. Hour after hour again, day after day, Sir Philip Hastings -continued to beat the floor of the prison with untiring feet. At the -end of the third day, however, he received formal notice that he would -be brought into court on the following morning, that the indictment -against him would be read, and that the attorney-general would enter a -_nolle prosequi_. Some of these forms were perhaps unnecessary, but it -was the object of the government at that time to make as strong an -impression on the public mind as possible without any unnecessary -effusion of blood.</p> - -<p class="normal">The effect upon the mind of Sir Philip Hastings, however, was not -salutary. The presence of the judges, the crowd in the court, the act -of standing in the prisoners' dock, even the brief speech of the -lawyer commending the lenity and moderation of government, while he -moved the recording of the _nolle prosequi_, all irritated and excited -the prisoner. His irritation was shown in his own peculiar way, -however; a smile, bitter and contemptuous curled his lip. His eye -seemed to search out those who gazed at him most and stare them down, -and when he was at length set at liberty, he turned away from the dock -and walked out of the court without saying a word to any one. The -governor of the jail followed him, asking civilly if he would not -return to his house for a moment, take some refreshment, and arrange -for the removal of his baggage. It seemed as if Sir Philip answered at -all with a great effort; but in the end he replied laconically, "No, I -will send."</p> - -<p class="normal">Two hours after he did send, and towards evening set out in a hired -carriage for his own house. He slept a night upon the road, and the -following day reached the Court towards evening. By that time, -however, a strange change had come over him. Pursuing the course of -those thoughts which I have faintly displayed, he had waged war with -his own mind--he had struggled to banish all traces of anger and -indignation from his thoughts--in short, fearing from the sensations -experienced within, that he would do or say something contrary to the -rigid rule he had imposed upon himself, he had striven to lay out a -scheme of conduct which would guard against such a result. The end of -this self-tutoring was satisfactory to him. He had fancied he had -conquered himself, but he was very much mistaken. It was only the -outer man he had subdued, but not the inner.</p> - -<p class="normal">When the carriage drew up at his own door, and Sir Philip alighted, -Emily flew out to meet him. She threw her arms around his neck and -kissed his cheek, and her heart beat with joy and affection.</p> - -<p class="normal">For an instant Sir Philip remained grave and stern, did not repel her, -but did not return her embrace. The next instant, however, his whole -manner changed. A sort of cunning double-meaning look came into his -eyes. He smiled, which was very unusual with him, assumed a sort of -sportiveness, which was not natural, called her "dainty Mistress -Emily," and asked after the health of "his good wife."</p> - -<p class="normal">His coldness and his sternness might not have shocked Emily at all, -but his apparent levity pained and struck her with terror. A cold sort -of shudder passed over her, and unclasping her arms from his neck, she -replied, "I grieve to say mamma is very ill, and although the news of -your safety cheered her much, she has since made no progress, but -rather fallen back."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless the news cheered you too very much, my sweet lady," said -Sir Philip in an affected tone, and without waiting for reply, he -walked on and ascended to his wife's room.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily returned to the drawing-room and fell into one of her profound -fits of meditation; but this time they were all sad and tending to -sadness. There Sir Philip found her when he came down an hour after. -She had not moved, she had not ordered lights, although the sun was -down and the twilight somewhat murky. She did not move when he -entered, but remained with her head leaning on her hand, and her eyes -fixed on the table near which she sat. Sir Philip gazed at her -gloomily, and said to himself, "Her heart smites her. Ha, ha, -beautiful deceitful thing. Have you put the canker worm in your own -bosom? Great crimes deserve great punishments. God of heaven! keep me -from such thoughts. No, no, I will never avenge myself on the plea of -avenging society. My own cause must not mingle with such -vindications."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Emily," he said in a loud voice, which startled her suddenly from her -reverie, "Emily, your mother is very ill."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Worse? worse?" cried Emily with a look of eager alarm; "I will fly to -her at once. Oh, sir, send for the surgeon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay," said Sir Philip, "she is no worse than when you left her, -except insomuch as a dying person becomes much worse every minute. -Your mother wishes much to see Mrs. Hazleton, who has not been with -her for two days, she says. Sit down and write that lady a note asking -her to come here to-morrow, and I will send it by a groom."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily obeyed, though with infinite reluctance; for she had remarked -that the visits of Mrs. Hazleton always left her mother neither -improved in temper nor in health.</p> - -<p class="normal">The groom was dispatched, and returned with a reply from Mrs. Hazleton -to the effect that she would be there early on the following day. -During his absence, Sir Philip had been but little with his daughter. -Hardly had the note been written when he retired to his own small -room, and there remained shut up during the greater part of the -evening. Emily quietly stole into her mother's room soon after her -father left her, fearing not a little that Lady Hastings might have -remarked the strange change which had come upon her husband during his -absence. But such was not the case. She found her mother calmer and -gentler than she had been during the last week or ten days. Her -husband's liberation, and the certainty that all charge against him -was at an end, had afforded her great satisfaction; and although she -was still evidently very ill, yet she conversed cheerfully with her -daughter for nearly an hour.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As I found you had not told your father the hopes that Mr. Marlow -held out when he went away, I spoke to him on the subject," she said. -"He is a strange cynic, my good husband, and seemed to care very -little about the matter. He doubt's Marlow's success too, I think, but -all that he said was, that if it pleased me, that was enough for him. -Mrs. Hazleton will be delighted to hear the news."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily doubted the fact, but she did not express her doubt, merely -telling her mother she had written to Mrs. Hazleton, and that the -servant had been sent with the note.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She has not been over for two days," said Lady Hastings. "I cannot -think what has kept her away."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Some accidental circumstance, I dare say," said Emily, "but there can -be no doubt she will be here to-morrow early."</p> - -<p class="normal">They neither of them knew that on the preceding night but one Mrs. -Hazleton had received a visit from John Ayliffe, which, -notwithstanding all her self-command and assumed indifference, had -disturbed her greatly.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton nevertheless was, as Emily anticipated, very early at -the house of Sir Philip Hastings. She first made a point of seeing -that gentleman himself; and though her manner was, as usual, calm and -lady-like, yet every word and every look expressed the greatest -satisfaction at seeing him once more in his home and at liberty. To -Emily also she was all tenderness and sweetness; but Emily, on her -part, shrunk from her with a feeling of dread and suspicion that she -could not repress, and hardly could conceal. She had not indeed read -any of the papers which Marlow had left with her, for he had not told -her to read them; but he had directed her thoughts aright, and had led -her to conclusions in regard to Mrs. Hazleton which were very painful, -but no less just.</p> - -<p class="normal">That lady remarked a change in Emily's manner--she had seen something -of it before;--but it now struck her more forcibly, and though she -took no notice of it whatever, it was not a thing to be forgotten or -forgiven; for to those who are engaged in doing ill there cannot be a -greater offence than to be suspected, and Mrs. Hazleton was convinced -that Emily did suspect her.</p> - -<p class="normal">After a brief interview with father and daughter, their fair guest -glided quietly up to the room of Lady Hastings, and seated herself by -her bed-side. She took the sick lady's hand in hers--that white, -emaciated hand, once so beautiful and rosy-tipped, and said how -delighted she was to see her looking a great deal better.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you think so really?" said Lady Hastings; "I feel dreadfully weak -and exhausted, dear Mrs. Hazleton, and sometimes think I shall never -recover."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh don't say so," replied Mrs. Hazleton; "your husband's return has -evidently done you great good: the chief part of your malady has been -mental. Anxiety of mind is often the cause of severe sickness, which -passes away as soon as it is removed. One great source of uneasiness -is now gone, and the only other that remains--I mean this unfortunate -engagement of dear Emily to Mr. Marlow--may doubtless, with a little -firmness and decision upon your part, be remedied also."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton was very skillful in forcing the subject with which she -wished to deal, into a conversation to which it had no reference; and -having thus introduced the topic on which she loved to dwell, she went -on to handle it with her usual skill, suggesting every thing that -could irritate the invalid against Marlow, and render the idea of his -marriage with Emily obnoxious in her eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">Even when Lady Hastings, moved by some feelings of gratitude and -satisfaction by the intelligence of Marlow's efforts to recover her -husband's property, communicated the hopes she entertained to her -visitor, Mrs. Hazleton contrived to turn the very expectations to -Marlow's disadvantage, saying, "If such should indeed be the result, -this engagement will be still more unfortunate. With such vast -property as dear Emily will then possess, with her beauty, with her -accomplishments, with her graces, the hand of a prince would be hardly -too much to expect for her; and to see her throw herself away upon a -mere country gentleman--a Mr. Marlow--all very well in his way, but a -nobody, is indeed sad; and I would certainly prevent it, if I were -you, while I had power."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how can I prevent it?" asked Lady Hastings; "my husband and Emily -are both resolute in such things. I have no power, dear Mrs. -Hastings."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yon are mistaken, my sweet friend," replied her companion; "the power -will indeed soon go from you if these hopes which have been held out -do not prove fallacious. You are mistress of this house--of this very -fine property. If I understand rightly, neither your husband nor your -daughter have at present anything but what they derive from you. This -position may soon be altered if your husband be reinstated in the -Hastings estates."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But your would not, Mrs. Hazleton, surely you would not have me use -such power ungenerously?" said Lady Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton saw that she had gone a little too far--or rather -perhaps that she had suggested that which was repugnant to the -character of her hearer's mind; for in regard to money matters no one -was ever more generous or careless of self than Lady Hastings. -What was her's was her husband's and her child's--she knew no -difference--she made no distinction.</p> - -<p class="normal">It took Mrs. Hazleton some time to undo what she had done, but she -found the means at length. She touched the weak point, the failing of -character. A little stratagem, a slight device to win her own way by -an indirect method, was quite within the limits of Lady Hastings' -principles; and after dwelling some time upon a recapitulation of all -the objections against the marriage with Marlow, which could suggest -themselves to an ambitious mind, she quietly and in an easy suggestive -tone, sketched out a plan, which both to herself and her hearer, -seemed certain of success.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings caught at the plan eagerly, and determined to follow it -in all the details, which will be seen hereafter.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"I am very ill indeed this morning," said Lady Hastings, -addressing -her maid about eleven o'clock. "I feel as if I were dying. Call my -husband and my daughter to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord, my lady," said the maid, "had I not better send for the doctor -too? You do not look as if you were dying at all. You look a good deal -better, I think, my lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do I?" said Lady Hastings in a hesitating tone. But she did not want -the doctor to be sent for immediately, and repeated her order to call -her husband and her daughter.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily was with her in an instant, but Sir Philip Hastings was some -where absent in the grounds, and nearly half an hour elapsed before he -was found. When he entered he gazed in his wife's face with some -surprise--more surprise indeed, than alarm; for he knew that she was -nervous and hypondriacal, and as the maid had said, she did not -look as if she were dying at all. There was no sharpening of the -features--no falling in of the temples--none of that pale ashy color, -or rather that leaden grayness, which precedes dissolution. He sat -down, however, by her bedside, gazing at her with an inquiring look, -while Emily stood on the other side of the bed, and the maid at the -end; and after speaking a few kind but somewhat rambling words, he was -sending for some restoratives, saying "I think, my dear, you alarm -yourself without cause."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not indeed, Philip," replied Lady Hastings. "I am sure I shall -die, and that before very long--but do not send for any thing. I would -rather not take it. It will do me more good a great deal to speak what -I have upon my mind--what is weighing me down--what is killing me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry to hear there is any thing," said Sir Philip, whose -thoughts, intensely busy with other things, were not yet fully -recalled to the scene before him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, Philip, how can you say so?" said Lady Hastings, "when you know -there is. You need not go," she continued, speaking to the maid who -was drawing back as if to quit the room, "I wish to speak to my -husband and my daughter before some one who will remember what I say."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip however quietly rose, opened the door, and motioned to the -girl to quit the room, for such public exhibitions were quite contrary -to his notions of domestic economy. "Now, my dear," he said, "what is -it you wish to tell me? If there be any thing that you wish done, I -will do it if it is in my power."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is in your power, Philip," replied Lady Hastings; "you know and -Emily knows quite well that her engagement to Mr. Marlow was against -my consent, and I must say the greatest shock I ever received in my -life. I have never been well since, and every day I see more and more -reason to object. It is in the power of either of you, or both, to -relieve my mind in this respect--to break off this unhappy engagement, -and at least to let me die in peace, with the thought that my daughter -has not cast herself away. It is in your power, Philip, to--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay a moment," said her husband, "it is not in my power."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, are you not her father?" asked Lady Hastings, interrupting him. -"Are you not her lawful guardian? Have you not the disposal of her -hand?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not in my power," repeated Sir Philip coldly, "to break my -plighted word, to violate my honor, or to live under a load of shame -and dishonor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why in such a matter as this," said Lady Hastings, "there is no such -disgrace. You can very well say you have thought better of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In which ease I should tell a lie," said Sir Philip dryly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a thing done every day," argued Lady Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not a man to do any thing because there are others who do it -every day," answered her husband. "Men lie, and cheat, and swindle, -and steal, and betray their friends, and relations, and parents, but I -can find no reason therein for doing the same. It is not in my power, -I repeat. I cannot be a scoundrel, whatever other men may be, and -violate my plighted word, or withdraw from my most solemn engagements. -Moreover, when Marlow heard of the misfortunes which have befallen us, -and learned that Emily would not have one-fourth part of that which -she had at one time a right to expect, he showed no inclination to -withdraw from his word, even when there was a good excuse, and I will -never withdraw from mine, so help me God."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus speaking he turned his eyes towards the ground again and fell -into a deep reverie. While this conversation had been passing, Emily -had sunk upon her knees, trembling in every limb, and hid her face in -the coverings of the bed. To her, Lady Hastings now turned. Whether it -was that remorse and some degree of shame affected her, when she saw -the terrible agitation of her child, I cannot tell, but she paused for -a moment as if in hesitation.</p> - -<p class="normal">She spoke at length, saying "Emily, my child, to you I must appeal, as -your father is so obdurate."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily made no answer, however, but remained weeping, and Lady Hastings -becoming somewhat irritated, went on in a sharper tone. "What! will -not my own child listen to the voice of a dying mother?" she asked -rather petulantly than sorrowfully, although she tried hard to make -her tone gravely reproachful; "will she not pay any attention to her -mother's last request?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, my mother," answered Emily, raising her head, and speaking more -vehemently than was customary with her, "ask me any thing that is -just; ask me any thing that is reasonable; but do not ask me to do -what is wrong and what is unjust. I have made a promise--do not ask me -to break it. There is no circumstance changed which could give even an -excuse for such a breach of faith. Marlow has only shown himself more -true more faithful, more sincere. Should I be more false, more -faithless, more ungenerous than he thought me? Oh no! it is -impossible--quite impossible," and she hid her streaming eyes in the -bedclothes again, clasping her hands tightly together over her -forehead.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her father, with his arms crossed upon his chest, had kept his eyes -fixed upon her while she spoke with a look of doubt and inquiry. Well -might he doubt--well might he doubt his own suspicions. There was a -truth, a candor, a straightforwardness, in that glowing face which -gave the contradiction, plain and clear, to every foul, dishonest -charge which had been fabricated against his child. It was impossible -in fact that she could have so spoken and so looked, unless she had so -felt. The best actress that ever lived could not have performed that -part. There would have been something too much or too little. -something approaching the exaggerated or the tame. With Emily there -was nothing. What she said seemed but the sudden outburst of her -heart, pressed for a reply; and as soon as it was spoken she sunk down -again in silence, weeping bitterly under the conflict of two strong -but equally amiable feelings.</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment the sight seemed to rouse Sir Philip Hastings. "She -should not, if she would," he said; "voluntarily, and knowing what she -did, she consented to the promise I have made, and she neither can nor -shall retract. To Marlow, indeed, I may have a few words to say, and -he shall once more have the opportunity of acting as he pleases; but -Emily is bound as well as myself, and by that bond we must abide."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What have you to say to Marlow?" asked Lady Hastings in a tone of -commonplace curiosity, which did not at all indicate a sense of that -terrible situation in which she assumed she was placed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That matters not," answered Sir Philip. "It will rest between him and -me at his return. How he may act I know not--what he may think I know -not; but he shall be a partaker of my thoughts and the master of his -own actions. Do not let us pursue this painful subject further. If you -feel yourself ill, my love, let us send for further medical help. I do -hope and believe that you are not so ill as you imagine; but if you -are so there is more need that the physician should be here, and that -we should quit topics too painful for discussion, where discussion is -altogether useless."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, mark me," said Lady Hastings with an air of assumed -melancholy dignity, which being quite unnatural to her, bordered -somewhat on the burlesque; "mark me, Philip--mark me, Emily! your -wife, your mother, makes it her last dying request--her last dying -injunction, that you break off this marriage. You may or you may not -give me the consolation on this sick bed of knowing that my request -will be complied with; but I do not think that either of you will be -careless, will be remorseless enough to carry out this engagement -after I am gone. I will not threaten, Emily--I will not even attempt -to take away from you the wealth for which this young man doubtless -seeks you--I will not attempt to deter you by bequeathing you my curse -if you do not comply with my injunctions; but I tell you, if you do -not make me this promise before I die, you have embittered your -mother's last moments, and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, forbear, forbear," cried Emily, starting up. "For God's sake, -dear mother, forbear," and clasping her hands wildly over her eyes, -she rushed frantically out of the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings remained for nearly half an hour longer, and then -descended the stairs and passed through the drawing-room. Emily was -seated there with her handkerchief upon her eyes, and her whole frame -heaving from the agonized sobs which rose from her bosom. Sir Philip -paused and gazed at her for a moment or two, but Emily did not say a -word, and seemed indeed totally unconscious of his presence. Some -movements of compassion, some feeling of sympathy, some doubts of his -preconceptions might pass through the bosom of Sir Philip Hastings; -but the dark seeds of suspicion had been sown in his bosom--had -germinated, grown up, and strengthened--had received confirmation -strong and strange, and he murmured to himself as he stood and gazed -at her, "Is it anger or sorrow? Is it passion or pain? All this is -strange enough. I do not understand it. Her resolution is taken, and -taken rightly. Why should she grieve? Why should she be thus moved, -when she knows she is doing that which is just, and honest, and -faithful?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He measured a cloud by an ell wand. He gauged her heart, her -sensibilities, her mind, by the rigid metre of his own, and he found -that the one could not comprehend the other. Turning hastily away -after he had finished his contemplation, without proffering one word -of consolation or support, he walked away into his library, and -ringing a bell, ordered his horse to be saddled directly. While that -was being done, he wrote a hasty note to Mr. Short, the surgeon, and -when the horse was brought round gave it to a groom to deliver. Then -mounting on horseback, he rode away at a quick pace, without having -taken any further notice of his daughter.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily remained for about half an hour after his departure, exactly in -the same position in which he had left her. She noticed nothing that -was passing around her; she heard not a horse stop at the door; and -when her own maid entered the room and said,--"Doctor Short has come, -ma'am, and is with my lady. Sir Philip sent Peter for him; but Peter -luckily met him just down beyond the park gates;" Emily hardly seemed -to hear her.</p> - -<p class="normal">A few minutes after, Mr. Short descended quietly from the room of Lady -Hastings, and looked into the drawing-room as he passed. Seeing the -beautiful girl seated there in that attitude of despondency, he -approached her quietly, saying, "Do not, my dear mistress Emily, -suffer yourself to be alarmed without cause. I see no reason for the -least apprehension. My good lady, your mother is nervous and excited, -but there are no very dangerous symptoms about her--certainly none -that should cause immediate alarm; and I think upon the whole, that -the disease is more mental than corporeal."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily had raised her eyes when he had just begun to speak, and she -shook her head mournfully at his last words, saying, "I can do nothing -to remedy it, Mr. Short--I would at any personal sacrifice, but this -involves more--I can do nothing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I have done my best," said Mr. Short with a kindly smile; for he -was an old and confidential friend of the whole family, and upon Emily -herself had attended from her childhood, during all the little -sicknesses of early life. "I asked your excellent mother what had so -much excited her, and she told me all that has passed this morning. I -think, my dear young lady, I have quieted her a good deal."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How? how?" exclaimed Emily eagerly. "Oh tell me how, Mr. Short, and I -will bless you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The good old surgeon seated himself beside her and took her hand in -his. "I have only time to speak two words," he said, "but think -they will give you comfort. Your mother explained to me that there -had been a little discussion this morning when she thought herself -dying--though that was all nonsense--and it must have been very -painful to you, my dear Mistress Emily. She told me what it was about -too, and seemed half sorry already for what she had said. So, as I -guessed how matters went--for I know that the dear lady is fond of -titles and rank, and all that, and saw she had a great deal mistaken -Mr. Marlow's position--I just ventured to tell her that he is the heir -of the old Earl of Launceston--that is to say, if the Earl does not -marry again, and he is seventy-three, with a wife still living. She -had never heard any thing about it, and it seemed to comfort her -amazingly. Nevertheless she is in a sad nervous state, and somewhat -weak. I do not altogether like that cough she has either; and so, my -dear young lady, I will send her over a draught to-night, of which you -must give her a tablespoonful every three hours. Give it to her with -your own hands; for it is rather strong, and servants are apt to make -mistakes. But I think if you go to her now, you will find her in a -very different humor from that which she was in this morning. Good -bye, good bye. Don't be cast down, Mistress Emily. All will go well -yet."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XL.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">From the house of Sir Philip Hastings Mr. Short rode quickly -on to the -cottage of Mistress Best, which he had visited once before in the -morning. The case of John Ayliffe, however, was becoming more and more -urgent every moment, and at each visit the surgeon saw a change in the -countenance of the young man which indicated that a greater change -still was coming. He had had a choice of evils to deal with; for -during the first day after the accident there had been so much fever -that he had feared to give any thing to sustain the young man's -strength. But long indulgence in stimulating liquors had had its usual -effect in weakening the powers of the constitution, and rendering it -liable to give way suddenly even where the corporeal powers seemed at -their height. Wine had become to John Ayliffe what water is to most -men, and he could not bear up without it. Exhaustion had succeeded -rapidly to the temporary excitement of fever, and mortification had -begun to show itself on the injured limb. Wine had become necessary, -and it was administered in frequent and large doses; but as a -stimulant it had lost its effect upon the unhappy young man, and when -the surgeon returned to the cottage on this occasion, he saw not only -that all hope was at an end, but that the end could not be very far -distant.</p> - -<p class="normal">Good Mr. Dixwell was seated by John Ayliffe's side, and looked up to -the surgeon with an anxious eye. Mr. Short felt his patient's pulse -with a very grave face. It was rapid, but exceedingly feeble--went on -for twenty or thirty beats as fast as it could go--then stopped -altogether for an instant or two, and then began to beat again as -quickly as before.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Short poured out a tumbler full of port wine, raised John Ayliffe -a little, and made him drink it down. After a few minutes he felt his -pulse again, and found it somewhat stronger. The sick man looked -earnestly in his face as if he wished to ask some question; but he -remained silent for several minutes.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length he said, "Tell me the truth, Short. Am not I dying?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The surgeon hesitated, but Mr. Dixwell raised his eyes, saying, "Tell -him the truth, tell him the truth, my good friend. He is better -prepared to bear it than he was yesterday."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear you are sinking, Sir John," said the surgeon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not feel so much pain in my leg," said the young man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is because mortification has set in," replied Mr. Short.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then there is no hope," said John Ayliffe.</p> - -<p class="normal">The surgeon was silent; and after a moment John Ayliffe said, "God's -will be done."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Dixwell pressed his hand kindly with tears in his eyes; for they -were the Christian words he had longed to hear, but hardly hoped for.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a long and somewhat sad pause, and then the dying man once -more turned his look upon the surgeon, asking, "How long do you think -it will be?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Three or four hours," replied Mr. Short. "By stimulants, as long as -you can take them, it may be protracted a little longer, but not -much."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Every moment is of consequence," said the clergyman. "There is much -preparation still needful--much to be acknowledged and repented -of--much to be atoned for. What can be done, my good friend to -protract the time?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give small quantities of wine very frequently," answered the surgeon, -"and perhaps some aqua vitæ--but very little--very little, or you may -hurry the catastrophe."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," said John Ayliffe, "you can come again, but perhaps by -that time I shall be gone. You will find money enough in my pockets, -Short, to pay your bill--there is plenty there, and mind you send the -rest to my mother."</p> - -<p class="normal">The surgeon stared, and said to himself, "he is wandering;" but John -Ayliffe immediately added, "Don't let that rascal Shanks have it, but -send it to my mother;" and saying "Very well, Sir John," he took his -leave and departed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now my dear young friend," said Mr. Dixwell, the moment the -surgeon was gone, "there is no time to be lost. You have the power of -making full atonement for the great offence you have committed to one -of your fellow creatures. If you sincerely repent, as I trust you do, -Christ has made atonement for your offences towards God. But you must -show your penitence by letting your last acts in this life be just and -right. Let me go to Sir Philip Hastings."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would rather see his daughter, or his wife," said John Ayliffe: "he -is so stern, and hard, and gloomy. He will never speak comfort or -forgiveness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are mistaken--I can assure you, you are mistaken," answered the -clergyman. "I will take upon me to promise that he shall not say one -hard word, and grant you full forgiveness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," said the young man, "if it must be he, so be it--but -mind to have pen and ink to write it all down--that pen won't write. -You know you tried it this morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will bring one with me," said Mr. Dixwell, rising eager to be gone -on his good errand; but John Ayliffe stopped him, saying, "Stay, -stay--remember you are not to tell him any thing about it till he is -quite away from his own house. I don't choose to have all the people -talking of it, and perhaps coming down to stare at me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Dixwell was willing to make any terms in order to have what he -wished accomplished, and giving Mrs. Best directions to let the -patient have some port wine every half hour, he hurried away to the -Court.</p> - -<p class="normal">On inquiring for Sir Philip, the servant said that his master had -ridden out.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you know where he is gone, and how long he will be absent?" asked -Mr. Dixwell.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is gone, I believe, to call at Doctor Juke's, to consult about my -lady," replied the man; "and as that is hard upon twenty miles, he -can't be back for two or three hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is most unfortunate," exclaimed the clergyman. "Is your lady -up?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The servant replied in the negative, adding the information that she -was very ill.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I must see Mistress Emily," said Mr. Dixwell, walking into the -house. "Call her to me as quickly as you can."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man obeyed, and Emily was with the clergyman in a few moments, -while the servant remained in the hall looking out through the open -door.</p> - -<p class="normal">After remaining in conversation with Mr. Dixwell for a few minutes, -Emily hurried back to her room, and came down again dressed for -walking. She and Mr. Dixwell went out together, and the servant saw -them take their way down the road in the direction of Jenny Best's -cottage: but when they had gone a couple of hundred yards, the -clergyman turned off towards his own house, walking at a very quick -pace, while Emily proceeded slowly on her way.</p> - -<p class="normal">When at a short distance from the cottage, the beautiful girl stopped, -and waited till she was rejoined by Mr. Dixwell, who came up very -soon, out of breath at the quickness of his pace. "I have ordered the -wine down directly," he said, "and I trust we shall be able to keep -him up till he has told his story his own way. Now, my dear young -lady, follow me;" and walking on he entered the cottage.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily was a good deal agitated. Every memory connected with John -Ayliffe was painful to her. It seemed as if nothing but misfortune, -sorrow, and anxiety, had attended her ever since she first saw him, -and all connected themselves more or less with him. The strange sort -of mysterious feeling of sympathy which she had experienced when first -she beheld him, and which had seemed explained to her when she learned -their near relationship, had given place day by day to stronger and -stronger personal dislike, and she could not now even come to visit -him on his death-bed with the clergyman without feeling a mixture of -repugnance and dread which she struggled with not very successfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">They passed, however, through the outer into the inner room where -Mistress Best was sitting with the dying man, reading to him the New -Testament. But as soon as Mr. Dixwell, who had led the way, entered, -the good woman stopped, and John Ayliffe turned his head faintly -towards the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, this is very kind of you," he said when he saw Emily, "I can tell -you all better than any one else."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir Philip is absent," said Mr. Dixwell, "and will not be home for -several hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hours!" repeated John Ayliffe. "My time is reduced to minutes!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily approached quietly, and Mrs. Best quitted the room and shut the -door. Mr. Dixwell drew the table nearer to the bed, spread some -writing paper which he had brought with him upon it, and dipped a pen -in the ink, as a hint that no time was to be lost in proceeding.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," said John Ayliffe with a sigh, "I won't delay, though it -is very hard to have to tell such a story. Mistress Emily, I have done -you and your family great wrong and great harm, and I am very, very -sorry for it, especially for what I have done against you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I forgive you from all my heart," cried Emily, who had been -inexpressibly shocked at the terrible change which the young man's -appearance presented. She had never seen death, nor was aware of the -terrible shadow which the dark banner of the great Conqueror often -casts before it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you, thank you," replied John Ayliffe; "but you must not -suppose, Mistress Emily, that all the evil I have done was out of my -own head. Others prompted me to a great deal; although I was ready -enough to follow their guidance, I must confess. The two principal -persons were Shanks the lawyer, and Mrs. Hazleton--Oh, that woman is, -I believe, the devil incarnate."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush, hush," said Mr. Dixwell, "I cannot put such words as those -down, nor should you speak them. You had better begin in order too, -and tell all from the commencement, but calmly and in a Christian -spirit, remembering that this is your own confession, and not an -accusation of others."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I will try," said the young man faintly, lifting his hand from -the bed-clothes, as if to put it to his head in the act of thought. -But he was too weak, and he fell back again, and fixing his eyes on a -spot in the wall opposite the foot of the bed, he continued in a sort -of dreamy commemorative way as follows: "I loved you--yes, I loved you -very much--I feel it now more than ever--I loved you more than you -ever knew--more than I myself knew then. (Emily bent her head and hid -her eyes with her hands.) It was not," he proceeded to say, "that you -were more beautiful than any of the rest--although that was true -too--but there was somehow a look about you, an air when you moved, a -manner when you spoke, that made it seem as if you were of a different -race from the rest--something higher, brighter, better, and as if your -nobler nature shone out like a gleam on all you did--I cannot help -thinking that if you could have loved me in return, mine would have -been a different fate, a different end, a different and brighter hope -even now--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are wandering from the subject, my friend," said Mr. Dixwell. -"Time is short."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not altogether wandering," said John Ayliffe, "but feel faint. -Give me some more wine." When he had got it, he continued thus: "I -found you could not love me--I said in my heart that you would not -love me; and my love turned into hate--at least I thought so--and I -determined you should rue the day that you had refused me. Long before -that, however, Shanks the lawyer had put it into my head that I could -take your father's property and title from him, and I resolved some -day to try, little knowing all that it would lead me into step by -step. I had heard my mother say a hundred times that she had been as -good as married to your uncle who was drowned, and that if right had -been done I ought to have had the property. So I set to work with -Shanks to see what could be done. Sometimes he led, sometimes I led; -for he was a coward, and wanted to do all by cunning, and I was bold -enough, and thought every thing was to be done by daring. We had both -of us got dipped so deep in there was no going back. I tore one leaf -out of the parish register myself, to make it seem that your -grandfather had caused the record of my mother's marriage to be -destroyed--but that was no marriage at all--they never were, -married--and that's the truth. I did a great number of other very evil -things, and then suddenly Mrs. Hazleton came in to help us; and -whenever there was any thing particularly shrewd and keen to be -devised, especially if there was a spice of malice in it towards Sir -Philip or yourself, Mrs. Hazleton planned it for us--not telling us -exactly to do this thing of that, but asking if it could not be done, -or if it would be very wrong to do it. But I'll tell you them all in -order--all that we did."</p> - -<p class="normal">He went on to relate a great many particulars with which the reader is -already acquainted. He told the whole villanous schemes which had been -concocted between himself, the attorney, and Mrs. Hazleton, and which -had been in part, or as a whole, executed to the ruin of Sir Philip -Hastings' fortune and peace. The good clergyman took down his words -with a rapid hand, as he spoke, though it was somewhat difficult; for -the voice became more and more faint and low.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is no use in trying now," said John Ayliffe in conclusion, -"when I am going before God who has seen and known it all. There is no -use in trying to conceal any thing. I was as ready to do evil as they -were to prompt me, and I did it with a willing heart, though sometimes -I was a little frightened at what I was doing, especially in the night -when I could not sleep. I am sorry enough for it now--I repent from my -whole heart; and now tell me--tell me, can you forgive me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As far as I am concerned, I forgive you entirely," said Emily, with -the tears in her eyes, "and I trust that your repentance will be fully -accepted. As to my father, I am sure that he will forgive you also, -and I think I may take upon myself to say, that he will either come or -send to you this night to express his forgiveness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, no," said the young man with a great effort. "He must not -come--he must not send. I have made the atonement that he (pointing to -Mr. Dixwell) required, and I have but one favor to ask. Pray, pray -grant it to me. It is but this. That you will not tell any one of this -confession so long as I am still living. He has got it all down. It -can't be needed for a few hours, and in a few, a very few, I shall be -gone. Mr. Dixwell will tell you when it is all over. Then tell what -you like; but I would rather not die with more shame upon my head if I -can help it."</p> - -<p class="normal">The good clergyman was about to reason with him upon the differences -between healthful shame, and real shame, and false shame, but Emily -gently interposed, saying, "It does not matter, my dear sir; a few -hours can make no difference."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then rising, she once more repeated the words of forgiveness, and -added, "I will now go and pray for you, my poor cousin--I will pray -that your repentance may be sincere and true--that it may be accepted -for Christ's sake, and that God may comfort you and support you even -at the very last."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Dixwell rose too, and telling John Ayliffe that he would return in -a few minutes, accompanied Emily back towards her house. They parted, -however, at the gates of the garden; and while Emily threaded her way -through innumerable gravelled walks, the clergyman went back to the -cottage, and once more resumed his place by the side of the dying man.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XLI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings returned to his own house earlier than had -been -expected, bringing with him the physician he had gone to seek, and -whom--contrary to the ordinary course of events--he had found at once. -They both went up to Lady Hastings's room, where the physician, -according to the usual practice of medical men in consultation, -approved of all that his predecessor had done, yet ordered some -insignificant changes in the medicines in order to prove that he had -not come there for nothing. He took the same view of the case that Mr. -Short had taken, declaring that there was no immediate danger; but at -the same time he inquired particularly how that lady rested in the -night, whether she started in her sleep, was long watchful, and -whether she breathed freely during slumber.</p> - -<p class="normal">The maid's account was not very distinct in regard to several of these -points; but she acknowledged that it was her young lady who usually -sat up with Lady Hastings till three or four o'clock in the morning.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip immediately directed Emily to be summoned, but the maid -informed him she had gone out about an hour and a half before, and had -not then returned.</p> - -<p class="normal">When the physician took his leave and departed, Sir Philip summoned -the butler to his presence, and inquired, with an eager yet gloomy -tone, if he knew where Mistress Emily had gone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I really do not, Sir Philip," replied the man. "She went out with Mr. -Dixwell, but they parted a little way down the road, and my young lady -went on as if she were going to farmer Wallop's or Jenny Best's."</p> - -<p class="normal">At the latter name Sir Philip started as if a serpent had stung him, -and he waved to the man to quit the room. As soon as he was alone he -commenced pacing up and down in more agitation than he usually -displayed, and once or twice words broke from him which gave some -indications of what was passing in his mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Too clear, too clear," lie said, and then after a pause exclaimed, -holding up his hands; "so young, and so deceitful! Marlow must be told -of this, and then must act as he thinks fit--it were better she were -dead--far better! What is the cold, dull corruption of the grave, the -mere rotting of the flesh, and the mouldering of the bones, to this -corruption of the spirit, this foul dissolution of the whole moral -nature?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He then began to pace up and down more vehemently than before, fixing -his eyes upon the ground, and seeming to think profoundly, with a -quivering lip and knitted brow. "Hard, hard task for a father," he -said--"God of heaven that I should ever dream of such a thing!--yet it -might be a duty. What can Marlow be doing during this long unexplained -absence? France--can he have discovered all this and quitted her, -seeking, in charity, to make the breach as little painful as possible? -Perhaps, after all," he continued, after a few moments' thought, "the -man may have been mistaken when he told me that he believed that this -young scoundrel was lying ill of a fall at this woman's cottage; yet -at the best it was bad enough to quit a sick mother's bedside for long -hours, when I too was absent. Can she have done it to show her spleen -at this foolish opposition to her marriage?"</p> - -<p class="normal">There is no character so difficult to deal with--there is none which -is such a constant hell to its possessor--as that of a moody man. Sir -Philip had been moody, as I have endeavored to show, from his very -earliest years; but all the evils of that sort of disposition had -increased upon him rapidly during the latter part of his life. -Unaware, like all the rest of mankind, of the faults of his own -character, he had rather encouraged than struggled against its many -great defects. Because he was stern and harsh, he fancied himself -just, and forgot that it is not enough for justice to judge rightly of -that which is placed clearly and truly before it, and did not -remember, or at all events apply the principle, that an accurate -search for truth, and an unprejudiced suspension of opinion till truth -has been obtained, are necessary steps to justice. Suspicion--always a -part and parcel of the character of the moody man--had of late years -obtained a strong hold upon him, and unfortunately it had so happened -that event after event had occurred to turn his suspicion against his -own guiltless child. The very lights and shades of her character, -which he could in no degree comprehend, from his own nature being -destitute of all such impulsiveness, had not only puzzled him, but -laid the foundation of doubts. Then the little incident which I have -related in a preceding part of this work, regarding the Italian -singing-master--Emily's resolute but unexplained determination to take -no more lessons from that man, had set his moody mind to ponder and to -doubt still more. The too successful schemes and suggestions of Mrs. -Hazleton had given point and vigor to his suspicions, and the betrayal -of his private conversation to the government had seemed a climax to -the whole, so that he almost believed his fair sweet child a fiend -concealed beneath the form of an angel.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was in vain that he asked himself, What could be her motives? He -had an answer ready, that her motives had always been a mystery to -him, even in her lightest acts. "There are some people," he thought, -"who act without motives--in whom the devil himself seems to have -implanted an impulse to do evil without any cause or object, for the -mere pleasure of doing wrong."</p> - -<p class="normal">On the present occasion he had accidentally heard from the farmer, who -was the next neighbor of Jenny Best, that he was quite certain Sir -John Hastings, as he called him, was lying ill from a fall at that -good woman's cottage. His horse had been found at a great distance on -a wild common, with the bridle broken, and every appearance of having -fallen over in rearing. Blood and other marks of an accident had been -discovered on the road. Mr. Short, the surgeon, was seen to pay -several visits every day to the old woman's house, and yet maintained -the most profound secrecy in regard to his patient. The farmer argued -that the surgeon would not be so attentive unless that patient was a -person of some importance, and it was clear he was not one of Jenny -Best's own family, for every member of it had been well and active -after the surgeon's visits had been commenced.</p> - -<p class="normal">All these considerations, together with the absence of John Ayliffe -from his residence, had led the good farmer to a right conclusion, and -he had stated the fact broadly to Sir Philip Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip, on his part, had made no particular inquiries, for the -very name of John Ayliffe was hateful to him; but when he heard that -his daughter had gone forth alone to that very cottage, and had -remained there for a considerable time in the same place with the man -whom he abhorred, and remembered that the tale which had been boldly -put forth of her having visited him in secret, the very blood, as it -flowed through his heart, seemed turned into fire, and his brain -reeled with anguish and indignation.</p> - -<p class="normal">Presently the hall door was heard to open, and there was a light step -in the passage. Sir Philip darted forth from his room, and met his -daughter coming in with a sad and anxious face, and as he thought with -traces of tears upon her eyelids.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where have you been?" asked her father in a stern low tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been to Jenny Best's down the lane, my father," replied Emily, -startled by his look and manner, but still speaking the plain truth, -as she always did. "Is my mother worse?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Without a word of reply Sir Philip turned away into his room again and -closed the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">Alarmed by her father's demeanor, Emily hurried up at once to Lady -Hastings's room, but found her certainly more cheerful and apparently -better.</p> - -<p class="normal">The assurance given by the physician that there was no immediate -danger, nor any very unfavorable symptom, had been in a certain degree -a relief to Lady Hastings herself; for, although she had undoubtedly -been acting a part when in the morning she had declared herself dying, -yet, as very often happens with those who deceive, she had so far -partially deceived herself as to believe that she was in reality very -ill. She was surprised at Emily's sudden appearance and alarmed look, -but her daughter did not think it right to tell her the strange -demeanor of Sir Philip, but sitting down as calmly ass he could by her -mother's side, talked to her for several minutes on indifferent -subjects. It was evident to Emily that, although her father's tone was -so harsh, her mother viewed her more kindly than in the morning, and -the information which had been given her by the surgeon accounted for -the change. The conduct of Sir Philip, however, seemed not to be -explained, and Emily could hardly prevent herself from falling into -one of those reveries which have often been mentioned before. She -struggled against the tendency, however, for some time, till at length -she was relieved by the announcement that Mistress Hazleton was below, -but when Lady Hastings gave her maid directions to bring her friend -up, Emily could refrain no longer from uttering at least one word of -warning.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give me two minutes more, dear mamma," she said, in a low voice. "I -have something very particular to say to you--let Mrs. Hazleton wait -but for two minutes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well," said Lady Hastings, languidly; and then turning to the maid -she added, "Tell dear Mrs. Hazleton that I will receive her in five -minutes, and when I ring my bell, bring her up."</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as the maid had retired Emily sank upon her knees by her -mother's bedside, and kissed her hand, saying, "I have one great favor -to ask, dear mother, and I beseech you to grant it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, my child," answered Lady Hastings, thinking she was going to -petition for a recall of her injunction against the marriage with -Marlow, "I have but one object in life, my dear Emily, and that is -your happiness. I am willing to make any sacrifice of personal -feelings for that object. What is it you desire?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is merely this," replied Emily, "that you would not put any trust -or confidence whatever in Mrs. Hazleton. That you would doubt her -representations, and confide nothing to her, for a short time at -least."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings looked perfectly aghast "What do you mean, Emily?" she -said. "What can you mean? Put no trust in Mrs. Hazleton my oldest and -dearest friend?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is not your friend," replied Emily, earnestly, "nor my friend, -nor my father's friend, but the enemy of every one in this house. I -have long had doubts--Marlow changed those doubts into suspicions, and -this day I have accidentally received proof positive of her cruel -machinations against my father, yourself, and me. This justifies me in -speaking as I now do, otherwise I should have remained silent still."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But explain, explain, my child," said Lady Hastings. "What has she -done? What are these proofs you talk of? I cannot comprehend at all -unless you explain."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There would be no time, even if I were not bound by a promise," -replied Emily; "but all I ask is that you suspend all trust and -confidence in Mrs. Hazleton for one short day--perhaps it may be -sooner; but I promise you that at the end of that time, if not before, -good Mr. Dixwell shall explain every thing to you, and place in your -hands a paper which will render all Mrs. Hazleton's conduct for the -last two years perfectly clear and distinct."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But do tell me something, at least, Emily," urged her mother. "I hate -to wait in suspense. You used to be very fond of Mrs. Hazleton and she -of you. When did these suspicions of her first begin, and how?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you not remember a visit I made to her some time ago," replied -Emily, "when I remained with her for several days? Then I first -learned to doubt her. She then plotted and contrived to induce me to -do what would have been the most repugnant to your feelings and my -father's, as well as to my own. But moreover she came into my room one -night walking in her sleep, and all her bitter hatred showed itself -then."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good gracious! What did she say? What did she do?" exclaimed Lady -Hastings, now thoroughly forgetting herself in the curiosity Emily's -words excited.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her daughter related all that had occurred on the occasion of Mrs. -Hazleton's sleeping visit to her room, and repeated her words as -nearly as she could recollect them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But why, my dearest child, did you not tell us all this before?" -asked Lady Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because the words were spoken in sleep," answered Emily, "and excited -at the time but a vague doubt. Sleep is full of delusions; and though -I thought the dream must be a strange one which could prompt such -feelings, yet still it might all be a troublous dream. It was not till -afterwards, when I saw cause to believe that Mrs. Hazleton wished to -influence me in a way which I thought wrong, that I began to suspect -the words that had come unconsciously from the depths of her secret -heart. Since then suspicion has increased every day, and now has -ripened into certainty. I tell you, dear mother, that good Mr. -Dixwell, whom you know and can trust, has the information as well as -myself. But we are both bound to be silent as to the particulars for -some hours more. I could not let Mrs. Hazleton be with you again, -however--remembering, as I do, that seldom has she crossed this -threshold or we crossed hers, without some evil befalling us--and not -say as much as I have said, to give you the only hint in my power of -facts which, if you knew them fully, you could judge of much -better than myself. Believe me, dear mother, that as soon as I am -permitted--and a very few hours will set me free--I will fly at once -to tell you all, and leave you and my father to decide and act as your -own good judgment shall direct."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had better tell me first, Emily," replied Lady Hastings; "a woman -can always best understand the secrets of a woman's heart. I wish you -had not made any promise of secrecy; but as you have, so it must be. -Has Marlow had any share in this discovery?" she added, with some -slight jealousy of his influence over her daughter's mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not in the least with that which I have made to-day," replied Emily; -"but I need not at all conceal from you that he has long suspected -Mrs. Hazleton of evil feelings and evil acts towards our whole family; -and that he believes that he has discovered almost to a certainty that -Mrs. Hazleton aided greatly in all the wrong and injury that has been -done my father. The object of his going to France was solely to trace -out the whole threads of the intrigue, and he went, not doubting in -the least that he should succeed in restoring to my parents all that -has been unjustly taken from them. That such a restoration must take -place, I now know; but what he has learned or what he has done I -cannot tell you, for I am not aware. I am sure, however, that if he -brings all he hopes about, it will be his greatest joy to have aided -to right you even in a small degree."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do believe he is a very excellent and amiable young man," said Lady -Hastings thoughtfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">She seemed as if she were on the point of saying something farther on -the subject of Marlow's merits; but then checked herself, and added, -"But now indeed, Emily, I think I ought to send for Mrs. Hazleton."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you promise me, dear mother," urged Emily eagerly, "that you will -put no faith in any thing she tells you, and will not confide in her -in any way till you have heard the whole?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I certainly will take care to avoid, my dear," replied Lady -Hastings. "After what you have told me, it would be madness to put any -confidence in her--especially when a few short hours will reveal all. -You are sure, Emily, that it will not be longer!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perfectly certain, my dear mother," answered her daughter. "I would -not have promised to refrain from speaking, had I not been certain -that the time for such painful concealment must be very short."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, my dear child, ring the bell," said Lady Hastings. "I -will be very guarded merely on your assurances, for I any sure that -you are always candid and sincere whatever your poor father may -think."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily rung the bell, and retired to her own room, repeating mournfully -to herself, "whatever my poor father may think?--Well, well," she -added, "the time will soon come when he will be undeceived, and do his -child justice. Alas, that it should ever have been otherwise!"</p> - -<p class="normal">She found relief in tears; and while she wept in solitude Lady -Hastings prepared to receive Mrs. Hazleton with cold dignity. She had -fully resolved, when Emily left her, to be as silent as possible in -regard to every thing that had occurred that day; not to allude, -directly or indirectly, to the warning which had been given her, and -to leave Mrs. Hazleton to attribute her unwonted reserve to caprice, -or any thing else she pleased. But the resolutions of Lady Hastings -were very fragile commodities when she fell into the hands of artful -people who knew her character, and one was then approaching not easily -frustrated in her designs.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XLII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton was an observer of all small particulars. She -never -seemed to give them any attention indeed, but it is not those who -notice them publicly who pay most attention to them in private. Now -she had never in her life been detained five minutes when she had come -to visit Lady Hastings. Her friend was always only too glad to see -her. On the present occasion, she had been kept alone for fully -ten-minutes in the drawing-room, and she was not at all pleased with -this want of alacrity. Her face was as smooth, as gentle, and as -smiling when she entered the sick lady's bed-room, as if she had been -full of affection and tender consideration; and before she had reached -the bed-side, Lady Hastings felt that it would be a somewhat difficult -task to play the cold and reserved part she had imposed upon herself. -She resolved, doggedly, however, to act it out; and as Mrs. Hazleton -approached, she continued looking at her fair delicate hands, or at -the rings--now somewhat too large for the fingers they encircled.</p> - -<p class="normal">All this was a hint, if not distinct intelligence, to Mrs. Hazleton. -She saw that a change of feeling, or at least a change of purpose, had -taken place, and that Lady Hastings felt embarrassed by a -consciousness which she might or might not choose to communicate. Mrs. -Hazleton remained the same, however, and rather enjoyed the hesitation -which she perceived than otherwise. She was not without that proud -satisfaction which persons of superior mind feel, in witnessing the -effects upon weak people of causes which would not give them a -moment's trouble. Difficulties and complexities she had been so much -accustomed to overcome and to unravel, that she had learned to feel a -certain triumphant joy in encountering them. That joy, indeed, would -have been changed to despair or rage if she had ever dreamed of being -frustrated; but success had made her bold, and she loved to steer her -course through agitated waters.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, my dear friend," she said, with the sweet tones of her voice -falling from her lips like drops d liquid honey, "You do not seem -quite so well to-day. I hope this business which you were to undertake -has not agitated you, or perhaps you have not executed your intention; -it could be very well put off till you are better."</p> - -<p class="normal">This was intended to lead to confession; for from a knowledge of Lady -Hastings' character, a strong suspicion arose that she had not found -courage to carry through the little drama which had been planned -between them, and that she was now ashamed to confess her want of -resolution.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings remained silent, playing with her rings, and Mrs. -Hazleton, a little angry--but very little--gave her one of those -delightful little scratches which she was practised in administering, -saying, "No one knew any thing about your intentions but myself, so, -no one can accuse you of weakness or vacillation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I care very little," said Lady Hastings (most untruly) "of what -people accuse me. I shall of course form my own resolutions from what -I know, and execute them or not, dear Mrs. Hazleton, according to -circumstances, which are ever changing. What is inexpedient one day -may be quite expedient the next."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now no one was more fully aware than Mrs. Hazleton that expediency is -always the argument of weak minds, and that changing circumstances -afford every day fair excuses to men and to multitudes for every kind -of weakness under the sun. Her belief was strengthened, that Lady -Hastings had not acted as she had promised to act, and she replied -with an easy, quiet, half-pitying smile, "Well, it is not of the -slightest consequence whether you do it now or a week hence, or not at -all. The worst that could come would be Emily's marriage with Marlow, -and if you do not care about it, who should? I take it for granted, of -course, that you have not acted in the matter so boldly and decidedly -as we proposed."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was an implied superiority in Mrs. Hazleton's words and manner, -which Lady Hastings did not like. It roused and elevated her, and she -replied somewhat sharply, "You are quite mistaken, my dear friend. I -did all that was ever intended; I sent for Emily and my husband, told -them that I believed I should not live long, and made it my last -request that the engagement with Marlow should be broken off."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton, with even too much eagerness; "What -did they say? Did they consent?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Far from it," answered Lady Hastings. "My husband said he had made a -promise, which he would not violate on any account or consideration -whatever, and Emily was much in the same story."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That shows that your decision was not strongly enough expressed," -replied her visitor. "I do not believe that any man or woman could be -heartless enough to refuse a wife or mother's last request, if made in -so solemn a manner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They did refuse, point-blank, however," said Lady Hastings. "But do -you know, Mrs. Hazleton," she continued, seeing a provokingly bitter -smile on Mrs. Hazleton's face, "do you know, strange to say, I am very -glad they did refuse. Upon after consideration, when all anger and -irritation was gone, I began to think it was hardly right or fair, or -Christian either, to oppose this marriage so strongly, without some -better reason than I have to assign. Marlow is a gentleman in all -respects, of very good family too, I believe. He is a good and -excellent young man. His fortune, too, is not inconsiderable, his -prospects good, and his conduct under the deprivations which we have -lately suffered, and the loss of at least two-thirds of the fortune he -had a right to expect with Emily, has been all that is kind, and -amiable, and generous."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton sat by the bedside, fixing her eyes full upon the -countenance of the invalid, and betraying not in the least the rage -and disappointment that were at her heart. They were not a whit the -less bitter, however, or fierce, or malignant; but rather the more so -from the effort to smother them. No one for a moment could have -imagined that she was angry, even in the least degree; and yet no -disappointed demon ever felt greater fury at being frustrated by the -weakness or vacillation of a tool.</p> - -<p class="normal">After staying for a moment to take breath, Lady Hastings proceeded, -saying, "All these considerations, dear Mrs. Hazleton, have made me -resolve to make amends for what I have said--to withdraw the -opposition I have hitherto shown--and consent to the marriage."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton retired for a moment into herself. For a minute or two -she was as silent as death--her cheek grew a little paler--her eyes -lost their lustre, and became dead and cold--they seemed looking at -nothing, seeing nothing--there was no speculation in them. The only -thing that indicated life and emotion was a slight quivering of the -beautifully-chiselled lip. There was a word echoing in the dark -chambers of her heart in replying to Lady Hastings. It was "Never!" -but it was not spoken; and after a short and thoughtful pause she -recovered herself fully, and set about her work again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear friend," she said, in a sweet tone, "you have doubtless good -reasons for what you do. Far be it from me to say one word against -your doing what you think fit; only I should like to know what has -made such a change in your views, because I think perhaps you may be -deceived."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no, I am not deceived," replied Lady Hastings, "but really I -cannot enter into explanations. I have heard a great deal lately about -many things--especially this morning; but I--I--in fact, I promised -not to tell you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings thought that in making this distinct declaration she was -performing a very magnanimous feat; but her little speech, short as it -was, contained three separate clauses or propositions, with each of -which Mrs. Hazleton proposed to deal separately. First, she asserted -that she was not deceived, and to this her companion replied, with a -slight incredulous smile, "Are you quite sure, my friend? Here you are -lying on a bed of sickness, with no power of obtaining accurate -information; while those who are combined to win you to their wishes -have every opportunity of conveying hints to you, both directly and -indirectly, which may not be altogether false, but yet bear with them -a false impression."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, but there can be no possible doubt," said Lady Hastings, "that -Marlow is the heir of the Earl of Launceston."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton's brow contracted, and a quick flush passed over her -cheek. She had never before given attention to the fact--she had never -thought of it at all--but the moment it was mentioned, her knowledge -of the families of the nobility, and Mr. Marlow's connections, showed -her that the assertion was probably true. "It may be so," she said, -"but I am very doubtful. However, I will inquire, and let you know the -truth, to-morrow. And now, my dear friend, let us turn to something -else. You say you have heard a great deal to-day, and that you have -promised not to tell _me_--me--for you marked that word particularly. -Now here I have a right to demand some explanation; for your very -words show that some person or persons endeavor to prejudice your mind -against me. What you have heard must be some false charge. Otherwise -the one who has been your friend for years, who has been faithful, -constant, attentive, kind, to the utmost limit of her poor abilities, -would not be selected for exclusion from your confidence. They seek, -in fact, by some false rumor, or ridiculous tale, which you have not -the means of investigating yourself, to deprive you of advice and -support. I charge no one in particular; but some one has done this--if -they had nothing to fear from frankness, they would not inculcate a -want of candor towards one who loves you, as they well know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why the fact is Emily said," replied Lady Hastings, "that could only -be for a short time, and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Emily!" cried Mrs. Hazleton with a laugh, "Emily indeed! Oh, then the -matter is easily understood--but pray what did Emily say? Dear Emily, -she is a charming girl--rather wayward--rather wilful--not always -quite so candid to her friends as I could wish; but these are all -thoughts which will pass away with more knowledge of the world. She -will learn to discriminate between true friends and false ones--to -trust and confide entirely and without hesitation in those who really -love her, and not to repose her confidence in the dark and -mysterious.--Now I will undertake to say that Emily has thrown out -hints and inuendoes, without giving you very clear and explicit -information. She has asked you to wait patiently for a time. It is -always the dear child's way; but I did not think she would practice it -upon her own mother."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now most people would have imagined, as Lady Hastings did imagine, -that Mrs. Hazleton's words proceeded from spite--mere spite; but such -was not the case: it was all art. She sought to pique Lady Hastings, -knowing very well that when once heated or angry, she lost all -caution; and her great object at that moment was to ascertain what -Emily knew, and what Emily had said. She was successful to a certain -degree. She did pique Lady Hastings, who replied at once, and somewhat -sharply, though with the ordinary forms of courtesy. "I do not think -you altogether do Emily justice, dear Mrs. Hazleton, although you have -in some degree divined the course she has pursued. She did not exactly -throw out inuendoes; but she made bold and distinct charges, and -though she did not proceed to the proofs, because there was no time to -do so, and also because there were particular reasons for not doing -so, yet she promised within a very few hours to establish every -assertion that she made beyond the possibility of doubt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought so," said Mrs. Hazleton, in a somewhat abstracted tone, -casting her eyes round the room and taking up, apparently unconcerned, -the vial of medicine which stood by Lady Hastings' bedside. "Pray, my -dear friend, when the revelation is made--if it ever be made--inform -me of the particulars."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If it ever be made," exclaimed Lady Hastings. "No revelation needs to -be made, Mrs. Hazleton--nothing is wanting but the proofs. Emily was -explicit enough as to the facts. She said that you had aided and -assisted in depriving my husband of his property, that in that and -many other particulars you had acted any thing but a friendly part, -that you were moved by a spirit of hatred against us all, and that -very seldom had there been any communications between our house and -yours without some evil following it--which is true enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">She spoke with a good deal of vehemence, and raised herself somewhat -on her elbow, as if to utter her words more freely. In the mean while -Mrs. Hazleton sat silent and calm--as far as the exterior went at -least--with her eyes fixed upon a particular spot in the quilt from -which they never moved till Lady Hastings had done.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Grave charges," she said at length, "very grave charges to bring -against one whom she has known from her infancy, and for whom she has -professed some regard--but no less false than grave, my dear friend. -Now either one of two things has happened: the first, which I mention -merely as a possibility, but without at all believing that such is the -case--the first is, I say, that Emily, judging your opposition to her -proposed unequal marriage to be abetted by myself, has devised these -charges out of her own head, in order to withdraw your confidence from -me and gain her own objects: the second is--and this is much more -likely--that she has been informed by some one, either maliciously or -mistakenly, of some suspicions and doubts such as are always more or -less current in a country place, and has perhaps embellished them a -little in their transmission to you.--The latter is certainly the most -probable.--I suppose she did not tell you from whom she received the -information."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not exactly," answered Lady Hastings, "but one thing I know, which -is, that Mr. Dixwell the rector has all the same information, and if I -understood her rightly, has got it down in writing."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton's cheek grew a shade paler; but she answered at once "I -am glad to hear that; for now we come to something definite. All these -charges must be substantiated, dear friend--that is, if they can be -substantiated--" she added with a smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You can easily understand that, attached to you by the bonds of a -long friendship, I cannot suffer my name to be traduced, or my conduct -impeached, even by your own daughter, without insisting upon a full -explanation, and clear, satisfactory proofs, or a recantation of the -charges. Emily must establish what she has said, if she can.--I am in -no haste about it; it may be to-morrow, or the next day, or the day -after--whenever it suits you and her in short; but it must be done. -Conscious that I am innocent of such great offences, I can wait -patiently; and I do not think, my dear friend, that although I see you -have been a little startled by these strange tales, you will give any -credence to them in your heart till they are proved. Dear Emily is -evidently very much in love with Mr. Marlow, and is anxious to remove -all opposition to her marriage with him. But I think she must take -some other means; for these will certainly break down beneath her."</p> - -<p class="normal">She spoke so calmly, and in so quiet and gentle a tone--her whole look -and manner was so tranquilly confident--that lady Hastings could -hardly believe that she was in any degree guilty.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I cannot tell," she said, "how this may turn out, but I do not -think her marriage with Mr. Marlow can have any thing to do with it. I -have fully and entirely resolved to cease all opposition to her union; -on which I see my daughter's happiness is staked, and I shall -certainly immediately signify my consent both to Emily and to my -husband."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wait a little--wait a little" said Mrs. Hazleton with a significant -nod of the head. "I have no mysteries, my dear friend. I have nothing -to conceal or to hold back. You are going, however, to act upon -information which is very doubtful. I believe that you have been -deceived, whoever has told you that Mr. Marlow is the heir to the Earl -of Launceston, and it is but an act of friendship on my part to -procure you more certain intelligence. You shall have it I promise -you, before four and twenty hours are over, and all I ask is that you -will not commit yourself by giving your consent till that intelligence -has been obtained. You cannot say that you consent if Mr. Marlow -proves to be the heir of that nobleman, but will not consent if such -be not the case.--That would never do, and therefore your consent -would be irrevocable. But on the other hand there can be no great harm -in waiting four and twenty hours at the utmost. I have plenty of books -of heraldry and genealogy, which will soon let me into the facts, and -you shall know them plainly and straightforwardly at once. You can -then decide and state your decision firmly and calmly, with just -reason and upon good grounds."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings was silent. She saw that Mrs. Hazleton had detected the -motives of her sudden change of views, and she did not much like being -detected. She had fully made up her mind, too, that Marlow was to -become Earl and her daughter Countess of Launceston, and the very -thought of such not being the result was a sort of half disappointment -to her. Now Lady Hastings did not like being disappointed at all, and -moreover she had made up her mind to have a scene of reconciliation, -and tenderness, and gratitude with her husband and her daughter, from -which--being of a truly affectionate disposition--she thought she -should derive great pleasure. Thus she hesitated for a moment as to -what she should answer, and Mrs. Hazleton, determined not to let the -effect of what she had said subside before she had bound her more -firmly, added, after waiting a short time for a reply, "you will -promise me, will you not, that you will not distinctly recall your -injunction, and give your consent to the marriage till you have seen -me again; provided I do not keep you in suspense more than four and -twenty hours? It is but reasonable too, and just, and you would, I am -sure, repent bitterly if you were to find afterwards that your consent -to this very unequal marriage had been obtained by deceit, and that -you bad been made a mere fool of--Really at the very first sight, even -if I had not good reason to believe that this story of the heirship is -either a mistake or a misrepresentation, it seems so like a stage -trick--the cunning plot of some knavish servant or convenient friend -in a drama--that I should be very doubtful. Will you not promise me -then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, there can be no great harm in waiting that length of time," -said Lady Hastings. "I do not mind promising that; but of course you -will let me know within four and twenty hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will," replied Mrs. Hazleton firmly; "earlier if it be possible; but -the fact is, I have some business to settle to-morrow of great -importance. My lawyer, Mr. Shanks--whom I believe to be a great -rogue--persuaded me to lend some money upon security which he -pronounced himself to be good. I knew not what it was for; as we women -of course can be no judges of such things; but I have just discovered -that it was to pay off some debts of this young man who calls himself -Sir John Hastings. Now I don't know whether the papers have been -signed, or any thing about it; and I hear that the young man himself -is absent, no one knows where. It makes me very uneasy; and I have -sent for Shanks to come to me to-morrow morning. It may therefore be -the middle of the day before I can get here; but I will not delay a -moment, you may be perfectly sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">She had risen as she spoke, and after pressing the hand of Lady -Hastings tenderly in her own, she glided calmly out of the room with -her usual graceful movement, and entering her carriage with a face as -serene as a summer sky, ordered the coachman to drive home in a voice -that wavered not in its lightest tone.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XLIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazelton entered the carriage, I have said, at the end of -the -last chapter, without the slightest appearance of agitation or -excitement. Although now and then a flush, and now and then a -paleness, had spread over her face during the conversation with Lady -Hastings, though her eye had emitted an occasional flash, and at other -times had seemed fixed and meaningless, such indications of internal -warfare were all banished when she left the room, the fair smooth -cheek had its natural color, the eye was as tranquil as that of -indifferent old age.</p> - -<p class="normal">The coachman cracked his long whip, before four magnificent large -horses heaved the ponderous vehicle from its resting place, and Mrs. -Hazleton sank back in the carriage and gave herself up to thought--but -not to thought only. Then all the smothered agitation; then all the -strong contending passions broke forth in fierce and fiery warfare. It -is impossible to disentangle them and lay them out, as on a map, -before the reader's mind. It is impossible to say which at first -predominated, rage, or fear, or disappointment, or the thirst of -vengeance. One passion it is true--the one which might be called the -master passion of her nature--soon soared towering above the rest, -like one of those mighty spirits which rise to the dizzy and dangerous -pinnacle of power in the midst of the turbulence and tempest which -accompany great social earthquakes. But at first all was confusion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never," she repeated to herself--"never!--it shall never be. If I -slay her with my own hand it shall never be--foiled--frustrated in -every thing; and by this mere empty, moody child, who has been my -stumbling block, my enemy, my obstruction, in all my paths. No, no, it -shall never be!"</p> - -<p class="normal">A new strain of thought seemed to strike her; her head leaned forward; -her eyes closed, and her lips quivered.</p> - -<p class="normal">There are many kinds of conscience, and every one has some sort, such -as it is. What I mean is, that there is almost in every heart a voice -of warning and reproof which counsels us to regret certain actions, -and which speaks in different tones to different men. To the -worldly--those who are habitually of the earth earthly--it holds out -the menace of earthly shame and misfortune and sorrow. It -recapitulates the mistakes we have committed, points to the evil -consequences of evil deeds, shows how the insincerities and falsehoods -of our former course have proved fruitless, and how the cunning -devices, and skilful contrivances, and artful stratagems, have ended -in mortification and reproach and contempt; while still the gloomy -prospects of detection and exposure and public contumely and personal -punishment, are held up before our eyes as the grim portrait of the -future.</p> - -<p class="normal">I need not pause here to show how conscience affects those who, -however guilty, have a higher sense--those who have a cloudy belief in -a future state--who acknowledge in their own hearts a God of -justice--who look to judgment, and feel that there must be an -immortality of weal or woe. Mrs. Hazleton was of the former class. The -grave was a barrier to her sight, beyond which there was no seeing. -She had been brought up for this world, lived in this world, thought, -devised, schemed, plotted for this world. She never thought of another -world at all. She went to church regularly every Sunday, read the -prayers with every appearance of devotion, even listened to the sermon -if the preacher preached well, and went home more practically atheist -than many who have professed themselves so.</p> - -<p class="normal">What were her thoughts, then, now? They were all earthly still. Even -conscience spoke to her in earthly language, as if there were no other -means of reaching her heart but that. Its very menaces were all -earthly. She reviewed her conduct for the last two or three years, -and bitterly reproached herself for several faults she discovered -therein--faults of contrivance, of design, of execution. She had made -mistakes; and for a time she gave herself up to bitter repentance for -that great crime.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Caught in my own trap," she said; "frustrated by a girl--a -child!--ay! and with exposure, perhaps punishment, before me. How she -triumphs, doubtless, in that little malignant heart. How she will -triumph when she brings forward her proofs, and overwhelms me with -them--if she has them. Oh, yes, she has them! She is mighty careful -never to say any thing of which she is not certain. I have remarked -that in her from a child. She has them beyond doubt, and now she is -sitting anticipating the pleasure of crushing me--enjoying the -retrospect of my frustrated endeavors--thinking how she and Marlow -will laugh together over a whole list of attempts that have failed, -and purposes that I have not been able to execute. Yes, yes, they will -laugh loud and gaily, and at the very altar, perhaps, will think with -triumph that they are filling for me the last drop of scorn and -disappointment. Never, never, never! It shall never be. That is the -only way, methinks;" and she fell into dark and silent thought again.</p> - -<p class="normal">The fit lasted some time, and then she spoke again, muttering the -words between her teeth as she had previously done. "They will never -marry with a mother's curse upon their union! Oh, no, no, I know her -too well. She will not do that. That weak poppet may die before she -recalls her opposition--must die--and then they will live on loving -and wretched. But it must be made as bitter as possible. It must not -stop there."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again she paused and thought, and then said to herself, "That drug -which the Italian monk sold me would do well enough if I did but fully -know its effects. There are things which leave terrible signs behind -them--besides it is old, and may have lost its virtue. I must run no -risk of that--and it must be speedy as well as sure. I have but four -and twenty hours--the time is very short;" and relapsing into silence -again, she continued in deep and silent meditation till the carriage -stopped at her own gates.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton sat in the library that night for two or three hours, -and studied diligently a large folio volume which she had taken down -herself. She read, and she seemed puzzled. A servant entered to ask -some unimportant question, and she waved him away impatiently. Then -leaning her head upon her hand she thought profoundly. She calculated -in her own mind what Emily knew--how much--how intimately, and how she -had learned it. Such a thing as remorse she knew not; but she had some -fear, though very little--a sort of shrinking from the commission of -acts more daring and terrible than any she had yet performed. There -was something appalling--there is always something appalling--in the -commission of a great new crime, and the turning back, as it were, of -the mind of Mrs. Hazleton from the search for means to accomplish a -deed determined, in order to calculate the necessity of that deed, -proceeded from this sort of awe at the next highest step of evil to -those which she had already committed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She must know all," said Mrs. Hazleton to herself, after having -considered the matter for some moments deeply. "And she must have -learned it accurately. I know her caution well. From whom can she have -learned it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"From that young villain Ayliffe," was the prompt reply. "I was too -harsh with him, and in his fit of rage he has gone away at once to -tell this girl--or perhaps that old fool Dixwell. Most likely he has -furnished her with evidence too, before he fled the country. Without -that I could have set Marlow's discoveries at naught. Yet I doubt his -having gone to Dixwell; he always despised him. Mean as he was -himself; he looked upon him as a meaner. He would not go to him to -whine and cant over him. He would go to the girl herself. Her he -always loved, even in the midst of his violence and his rage. He would -go to her or write to her beyond all doubt. She must be silenced. But -I must deal with another first. Come what will, this marriage shall -not take place. Besides, she is the most dangerous of the two. The -girl might be frightened or awed into secresy, and it will take longer -time to reach her, but nothing will keep that weak woman's tongue from -babbling, and in four and twenty hours her consent will be given to -this marriage. If I can but contrive it rightly, that at least may be -stopped, and a part of my revenge obtained at all events. It must be -so--it must be so."</p> - -<p class="normal">She turned to the leaves of the book again, but nothing in the -contents seemed to give her satisfaction. "That will be too long," she -said, after having read about a third of a page. "Three or four days -to operate! Who could wait three or four days when the object is -security, tranquility, or revenge? Besides the case admits of no -delay. Before three of four days all will be over."</p> - -<p class="normal">She read again, and was discontented with what she read. "That will -leave traces," she said. "It must be the Italian's dose, I believe, -after all. Those monks are very skilful men, and perhaps it may not -have lost its efficiency. It is easily tried," she exclaimed suddenly, -and ascending quietly to her own dressing-room, she sought out from -the drawer of an old cabinet a small packet of white powder, which she -concealed in the palm of her hand. Then descending to the library -again, she sat for a few minutes in dull, heavy thought, and then rang -a hand-bell which stood upon her table.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bring me a small quantity of meat cut fine for the dog," she said, as -soon as her servant appeared. "He seems ill; what has been the matter -with him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing, madam," said the man, looking under the table where lay a -beautiful small spaniel sound asleep. "He has been quite well all -day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has had something like a fit," said Mrs. Hazleton.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear me, perhaps he is going mad," replied the man. "Had I not better -kill him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Kill him!" exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton; "on no account whatever. Bring me -a small plate of meat."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man did as he was ordered, and on his return found the dog sitting -at his mistress's feet, looking up in her face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Dorset," she said, speaking to the animal in a kindly tone, "you -are better now, are you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The man seemed inclined to linger to see whether the dog would eat: -but Mrs. Hazleton took the plate from him, and threw the poor beast a -small piece, which he devoured eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There that will do," said Mrs. Hazleton. "You may leave the room."</p> - -<p class="normal">When she was alone again, she paused for a moment or two, then -deliberately unfolded the packet, and put a very small quantity of the -powder it contained upon a piece of the meat. This morsel she threw to -the poor animal, who swallowed it at once, and then she set down the -plate upon the ground, which he cleared in a moment. After that Mrs. -Hazleton turned to her reading again, and looked round once at the end -of about two minutes. The dog had resumed his sleeping attitude, and -she read on. Hardly a minute more had passed ere the poor brute -started up, ran round once or twice, as if seized with violent -convulsions, staggered for an instant to and fro, and fell over on its -side. Mrs. Hazleton rang the hell violently, and two servants ran in -at once. "He is dying," she cried; "he is dying."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Keep out of his way, madam," exclaimed one of the men, evidently in -great fear himself, "there is no knowing what he may do."</p> - -<p class="normal">The next instant the poor dog started once more upon his feet, uttered -a loud and terrific yell, and fell dead upon the floor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Poor thing," said Mrs. Hazleton. "Poor Dorset! He is dead; take him -away."</p> - -<p class="normal">The two men seemed unwilling to touch him, but when quite satisfied -that there was no more life left in him, they carried him away, and -Mrs. Hazleton remained alone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Speedy enough," said the lady, replacing the large volume on the -shelf. "We need no distillations and compoundings. This is as -efficacious as ever. Now let me see. I must try and remember the size -of the bottle, and the color of the stuff that was in it." She thought -of these matters for some minutes, and then retired to rest.</p> - -<p class="normal">Did she sleep well or ill that night? God knows. But if she slept -well, the friends of hell must sometimes have repose.</p> - -<p class="normal">The next morning very early, Mrs. Hazleton walked out. As the reader -knows, she lived at no great distance from the little town, even by -the high-road, and that was shortened considerably by a path through -the park. There was a poor man in the place, an apothecary, who had -came down there in the hope of carrying away some of the practice of -good Mr. Short. He had not been very successful, and his stock of -medicines was not very great: but he had all that Mrs. Hazleton -wanted. Her demands indeed were simple enough--merely a little -logwood, a little saffron, and a little madder. Having obtained these -she asked to see some vials, and selected one containing somewhat less -than half a pint.</p> - -<p class="normal">The good man packed all these up with zealous care, saying that he -would send them up to the house in a few minutes. Mrs. Hazleton, -however, said she would carry them herself; but the very idea of the -great lady carrying home a parcel, even through her own park, shocked -the little apothecary extremely, and he pressed hard to be permitted -to send his own boy, till Mrs. Hazleton replied in a rather peremptory -tone, "I always say what I mean, sir. Be so good as to give me the -parcel."</p> - -<p class="normal">When she reached her own house, she ordered her carriage to be at the -door at half past twelve in order to convey her to the dwelling of Sir -Philip Hastings. Upon a very nice calculation the drive, commenced at -that hour, would bring her to the place of her destination shortly -after that precise period of the day when Lady Hastings was accustomed -to take an hour's sleep. But Mrs. Hazleton had laid out her plan, and -did not thus act by accident.</p> - -<p class="normal">Almost every lady in those days acted the part of a Lady Bountiful in -her neighborhood, and gave, not alone assistance in food and money to -the cottagers and poor people about her, but medicine and sometimes -medical advice. Both the latter were very simple indeed; but the -preparation of these simple medicines entailed the necessity of what -was called a still-room in each great house. In fact to be a Lady -Bountiful, and to have a still-room, were two of the conventionalities -of the day, from which no lady, having more than a very moderate -fortune, could then hope to escape. Mrs. Hazleton was in the -still-room, then, when her dear friend, who had already on one -occasion given the death blow to her schemes upon Mr. Marlow's heart, -drove up to the door and asked to see her.</p> - -<p class="normal">The servant replied that his mistress was busy in the still-room, but -that he would go and call her in a moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, dear, no," replied the lady, entering the house with an elastic -step; "I will go and join her there, and surprise her in her -charitable works. I know the way quite well--you needn't come--you -needn't come;" and on she went to the still-room, which she entered -without ceremony.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton was, at that moment, in the act of pouring a purpleish -sort of fluid, out of a glass dish with a lip to it, into an -apothecary's vial. She turned round sharply at the sound of the -opening door, thinking that it was produced by a servant intruding -upon her uncalled. When she saw her friend, however, whose indiscreet -advice she had neither forgotten nor forgiven, her face for a moment -turned burning red, and then as pale as death; and she had nearly let -the glass fall from her hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">What was said on either part matters very little. Mrs. Hazleton was -too wise to speak as sharply as she felt, and led the way from the -still-room as fast as possible; but her dear friend had in one -momentary glance seen every thing--the glass bowl, the vial, the -fluid, and--more particularly than all--Mrs. Hazleton's sudden changes -of complexion on her entrance.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XLIV.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings sat at breakfast with his daughter the -morning of -the same day on which Mrs. Hazleton in the still-room was subjected to -her dear friend's unpleasant intrusion. He was calmer than he had -been since his return; but it was a gloomy, thoughtful sort of -calmness--that sort of superficial tranquility which is sometimes -displayed under the influence of overpowering feelings, as the sea, so -sailors tell us, is sometimes actually beaten down by the force of the -winds that sweep over it. His brow was contracted with a deep frown, -but it was by no means varied. It was stern, fixed, immoveable. To his -daughter he spoke not a word, except when she bade him good morning, -and asked after his health; and then he only replied "Well."</p> - -<p class="normal">When breakfast was nearly over, a servant brought in some letters, and -handed two to his master and one to Emily. Sir Philip's were soon -read; but Emily's was longer, and she was still perusing it, with -apparently much emotion, when the servant returned to the room. Sir -Philip, during the half hour they had been previously together, had -abstained from turning his eyes towards her. He had looked at the -table cloth, or straight at the wall; but now he was gazing at her so -intently, with a strange, eager, haggard expression of countenance -that he did not even notice the entrance of the servant till the man -spoke to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Please your worship" said the servant "Master Atkinson of the Hill -farm, near Hartwell, wishes to speak to you on some justice business."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip started, and murmured between his teeth. "Justice--ay, -justice!--who did you say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The man repeated what he had said before, and his master replied, -"shew him in."</p> - -<p class="normal">He then remained for a moment or two with his head leaning on his -hand, and seemingly making an effort to recall his thoughts from some -distant point; and when Mr. Atkinson entered, he spoke to him -tranquilly enough.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pray be seated, Mr. Atkinson," he said, "what is it you want? I have -meddled little with magisterial affairs lately."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I want a warrant, sir," replied Mr. Atkinson. "And against a near -neighbor and relation of yours; so I am sure you are not a man to -refuse me justice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not if it were my nearest and my dearest," replied Sir Philip, in a -deep and hollow tone. "Who is the person?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A young man calling himself Sir John Hastings," said Mr. Atkinson. -"We are afraid of his getting out of the country. He knows he has been -found out, and he is hiding somewhere not very far off; but I and a -constable will find him."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily had lain down her letter by her side, and was listening -attentively. It was clear she was greatly moved by what she heard. Her -face turned white and red. Her lip quivered as if she would fain have -spoken; but she hesitated and remained silent for a moment. She -thought of the unhappy young man lying on his death bed; for she had -as yet received no intimation of his death from Mr. Dixwell, and of -his seeing himself seized upon by the officers of justice, his last -thoughts disturbed, all his anxious strivings after penitence, all his -communings with his own heart, all his efforts to prepare for meeting -with death, and God, and judgment, scattered by worldly shame and -earthly anguish--she felt for him--she would fain have petitioned for -him; but she was misunderstood, and, what was worse, she knew it--she -felt it--she could not speak--she dare not say any thing, though her -heart seemed as if it would break, and her only consolation was that -all would be explained, that her motives, her conduct, would all be -clear and comprehended in a a very few short hours. She knew, however, -that she could not bear much more without weeping; for the letter -which she had received from Marlow, telling her that he had arrived in -London, and would set off to see her, as soon as some needful -business, in the capital had been transacted, had agitated her much, -and even pleasureable emotions will often shake the unnervous so as to -weaken rather than strengthen us when called upon to contend with -others of a different kind.</p> - -<p class="normal">She rose then and left the room with a sad look and wavering step, and -Sir Philip gazed at her as she passed with a look impossible to -describe, saying to himself, "So--is it so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The next instant, however, he turned to the farmer, who was a man of a -superior class to the ordinary yeomen of that day, saying, "What is -your charge, sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, plenty of charges, sir," replied the man; "fraud, conspiracy, -perjury, forgery, in regard to all which I am ready to give -information on my oath."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip leaned his head upon his hand, and thought bitterly for two -or three minutes. Then raising his eyes full to Atkinson's face, he -said, "Were this young man my own child, were he my son, or were he my -brother, were he a very dear friend, I should not have the slightest -hesitation, Mr. Atkinson. I would take the information, and grant you -a warrant at once--nay; I will do so still, if you insist upon it; for -it shall never be said that any consideration made me refuse justice. -But I would have you remember that Sir John Hastings is my enemy; that -he has, justly or unjustly, deprived me of fortune and station, and -throughout the only transactions we have had together, has shown a -spirit of malignity against me which might well make men believe that -I must entertain similar feelings towards him. To sign a warrant -against him, therefore, would be very painful to me, although I -believe him to be capable of the crimes with which you charge him, and -know you to be too honest a man to make such an accusation without a -reasonable confidence in its truth. But I would have you consider -whether it may not bring suspicion upon all your proceedings, if your -very first step therein is to obtain a warrant against this man from -his known and open enemy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what am I to do, Sir Philip?" asked the farmer. "I am afraid he -will escape. I know that he is hiding in this very neighborhood, in -this very parish, within half a mile of this house."</p> - -<p class="normal">A groan burst from the heart of Sir Philip Hastings. He had spoken his -remonstrance clearly, slowly, and deliberately, forcibly bending his -thoughts altogether to the subject before him; but he had been deeply -and terribly moved all the time, and this direct allusion to the -hiding place of John Ayliffe, to the very house which his daughter had -visited on the previous day, roused all the terrible feelings, the -jealous anger, the indignation, the horror, the contempt which had -been stirred up in him, by what he thought her indecent, if not -criminal act. It was too much for his self-command, and that groan -burst forth in the struggle against himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">He recovered himself speedily, however, and he replied, "Apply to Mr. -Dixwell: he is a magistrate, and lives hardly a stone's throw from -this house. You will lose but little time, save me from great pain, -and both you and me from unjust imputations."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I am not afraid of any imputations," said Mr. Atkinson. "I have -personally no interest in the matter. You have, Sir, a great interest -in it and if you would just hear what the case is, you would see that -no one should look more sharply than you to the matter, in order that -no time may be lost."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would rather not hear the case at all," replied Sir Philip. "If I -have a personal interest in it, as you say, it would ill befit me to -meddle. Go to Mr. Dixwell, my good friend. Explain the whole to him, -and although perhaps he is not the brightest man that ever lived, yet -he is a good man and an honest man, who will do justice in this -matter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very well, sir, very well," replied the farmer, a little mortified; -for to say the truth, he had anticipated some little accession of -importance from lending a helping hand to restore Sir Philip Hastings -to the rights of which he had been unjustly deprived, and taking his -leave he went away, thinking the worthy baronet the most impracticable -man he had ever met with in his life. "I always knew that he was -crotchety," he said to himself, "and carried his notions of right and -wrong to a desperate great length; but I did not know that he went so -far as this. I don't believe that if he saw a man running away with -his own apples, he would stop him without a warrant from another -justice. Yet he can be severe enough when he is not concerned himself, -as we all know. He'd hang every poacher in the land for that matter, -saying, as I have heard him many a time, that it is much worse to -steal any thing that is unprotected, than if it is protected."</p> - -<p class="normal">With these thoughts he rode straight away to the house of Mr. Dixwell, -but to his mortification he found that the worthy clergyman was out. -"Can you tell me where he is?" he asked of the servant, "I want him on -business of the greatest importance."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woman hesitated for a moment, but the expression of perplexity and -anxiety on the good farmer's face overcame her scruples, and she -replied, "I did not exactly hear him say where he was going, but I saw -him take the foot-path down to Jenny Best's."</p> - -<p class="normal">Atkinson turned his horse's head at once, and rode along the road till -he reached the cottage. There he fastened his horse to a tree, and -went in. The outer room was vacant; but through the partition he heard -a voice speaking in a slow, measured tone, as if in prayer; and after -waiting and hesitating for a moment or two, he struck upon the table -with his knuckles to call attention to his presence.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment after, the door opened slowly and quietly, and Jenny Best -herself first put out her head, and then came into the room with a -curtsy, closing the door behind her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good day, Jenny," said the farmer; "is Mr. Dixwell here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, Master Atkinson," replied the good dame; "he is in there, -praying with a sick person."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why how is that?" asked Mr. Atkinson. "Best is not ill, I hope, nor -your son."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, sir," answered the old woman; "it is a young man who broke his -leg close by our door the other day;" and seeing him about to ask -further questions, which she might have had difficulty in parrying, -she added, "I will call the parson to you, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, she retreated again into the inner room, and in a few -moments Mr. Dixwell himself appeared.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God day, Atkinson," he said; "you have been absent on a journey, I -hear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, your Reverence," replied the farmer, "and it is in consequence -of that journey that I come to you now. I want a warrant from you, Mr. -Dixwell; and that as quick as possible."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, I cannot give you a warrant here," said the clergyman, -hesitating. "I have no clerk with me, nor any forms of warrants, and I -cannot very well go home just now. It can, do no harm waiting an hour -or two, I suppose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may do a great deal of harm," replied the farmer, "for as great a -rogue and as bad a fellow as ever lived may escape from justice if it -is not granted immediately."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can't you go to Mr. Hastings?" said the clergyman. "He would give you -one directly, if the case justifies it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He sent me to your Reverence," replied the farmer. "In one word, the -case is this, Mr. Dixwell. I have to charge a man, whom, I suppose, I -must call a gentleman, upon oath, with fraud, perjury, and forgery. -Shanks, one of the conspirators we have got already. But this -man--this fellow who calls himself Sir John Hastings, I mean, is -hiding away here--in this very cottage, sir, I am told--and may make -his escape at any minute. Now that I am here, and a magistrate with -me, I tell you fairly, sir, I will not quit the place till I have him -in custody."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke in a very sharp and decided tone; for to say the truth he had -a vague suspicion that Mr. Dixwell, whose good-nature was well known, -knew very well where John Ayliffe was, and might be trying to convert -him, with the full intention of afterwards aiding him to escape. The -clergyman answered at once, however, "he is here, Master Atkinson, but -he is very ill, and will soon be in sterner custody than yours."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a good deal of the bull-dog spirit of the English yeoman in -the good farmer's character, and he replied tartly, "I don't care for -that. He shall be in my custody first."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Dixwell looked pained and offended. His brow contracted a good -deal, and laying his hand upon the farmer's wrist, he led him towards -the door of the inner room, saying, "You are hard and incredulous, -sir. But come with me, and you shall see his state with your own -eyes."</p> - -<p class="normal">The farmer suffered himself to be led along, and Mr. Dixwell opened -the door, and entered the room with a quiet and reverent step. The -sunshine was streaming through the little window upon the floor, and -by its cheerful light, contrasting strangely with the gray darkness of -the face which lay upon the bed of death. There was not a sound, but -the footfalls of the two persons who entered; for the old woman had -seated herself by the bedside, and was gazing silently at the face of -the sick man.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first, Mr. Atkinson thought that he was dead; and life indeed -lingered on with but the very faintest spark. He seemed utterly -unconscious; for the eyes even did not move at the sound of the -opening door, and the farmer was a good deal shocked at the hardness -of his judgment. He was not one, however, to give up his purpose -easily, and when Mr. Dixwell said, "you can now see and judge for -yourself--is he likely to escape, do you think?" Atkinson answered in -a low but determined tone, "No, but I do not think I ought to leave -him as long as there is any life in him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You can do as you please," said Mr. Dixwell, in a tone of much -displeasure. "Only be silent. There is a seat;" and leaving him, he -took his place again by the dying man's side.</p> - -<p class="normal">Though shocked, and feeling perhaps a little ashamed, Mr. Atkinson. -with that dogged sort of resolution which I have before spoken of; -resisted his own feelings, and would not give up the field. He thought -he was doing his duty, and that is generally quite sufficient for an -Englishman. Nothing could move him, so long as breath was in the body -of the unhappy young man. He remained seated there, perfectly still -and silent, as hour after hour slipped away, with his head bent down, -and his arms crossed upon his chest.</p> - -<p class="normal">The approach of death was very slow with John Ayliffe: he lingered -long after all the powers of the body seemed extinct. Hand or foot he -could not move--his sunken eyes remained half closed--the hue of death -was upon his face, but yet the chest heaved, the breath came and went, -sometimes rapidly, sometimes very slowly; and for along time Mr. -Dixwell could not tell whether he was conscious at all or not. At the -end of two hours, however, life seemed to make an effort against the -great enemy, though it was a very feeble one, and intellect had no -share in it. He began to mutter a few words from time to time, but -they were wild and incoherent, and the faint sounds referred to dogs -and horses, to wine and money. He seemed to think himself talking to -his servants, gave orders, and asked questions, and told them to light -a fire, he was so cold. This went on till the shades of evening began -to fall, and then Mr. Short, the surgeon, came in and felt his pulse.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is very strange," said the surgeon, "that this has lasted so long. -But it must be over in a few minutes now. I can hardly feel a -pulsation."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Dixwell did not reply, and the surgeon remained gazing on the -dying man's face till it was necessary to ask for a light. Jenny Best -brought in a solitary candle, and whether it was the effect of the -sudden though feeble glare, I cannot tell, John Ayliffe opened his -eyes, and said, more distinctly than before, "I am going--I am -going--this is death--yes, this is death! Pray for me, Mr. -Dixwell--pray for me--I do repent--yes, I have hope."</p> - -<p class="normal">The jaw quivered a little as he uttered the last words, but at the -same moment John Best, the good woman's husband, entered the room with -a hurried step, drew Mr. Short, the surgeon, aside, and whispered -something in his ear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good Heaven!" exclaimed the surgeon. "Impossible, Best! Has the man -got a horse? mine's at the farm."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, sir, yes!" replied the man, eagerly. "He has 'got a horse; but -you had better make haste."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Short dashed out of the room; but before he left it, John Ayliffe -was a corpse.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XLV.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton found the inconvenience of having a dear friend. -It was -in vain that she tried to get rid of her visitor. The visitor would -not be got rid of. She was deaf to hints; she paid no attention to any -kind of inuendoes; and she looked so knowing, so full of important -secrets, so quietly mischievous, that Mrs. Hazleton was cowed by that -most unnerving of all things, the consciousness of meditated crime. -She could not help thinking that the fair widow saw into her thoughts -and purposes--she could not help doubting the impenetrability of the -veil behind which hypocrisy hides the hideout features of unruly -passion--she could not help thinking that the keen-sighted and astute -must perceive some of the movements at least of the rude movers of the -painted puppets of the face--the smile, the gay looks, the sparkling -eyes, the calm placid brow, the dignified serenity, which act their -part in the glittering scene of the world, too often worked by the -most harsh, foul, and brutal of all the motives of the human heart. -But she was irritated too, as well as fearful; and there was a sort of -combat went on between impatience and apprehension. Had she given way -to inclination she would have ordered one of her servants to take the -intruder by the shoulders and put her out of doors; but for more -than an hour after the time she had fixed for setting out, vague -fears--however groundless and absurd--were sufficiently powerful to -restrain her temper. She was not of a character, however, to be long -cowed by any thing. She had great confidence in herself--in her own -resources--in her own conduct and good fortune likewise. That -confidence might have been a little shaken indeed by events which had -lately occurred; but anger soon rallied it, and brought it back to her -aid. She asked herself if she were a fool to dread that woman--what it -was she had discovered--what it was that she could testify. She had -merely seen her doing what almost every lady did a hundred times in -the year in those day--preparing some simples in the still-room; and -gradually as she found that gentle hints proved unsuccessful, she -resumed her natural dignity of demeanor. That again gave way to a -chilling silence, and then to a somewhat irritable imperiousness, and -rising from her chair, she begged her visitor to excuse her, alleging -that she had business of importance to transact which would occupy her -during the whole day.</p> - -<p class="normal">Not one of all the variation of conduct--not one sign, however slight, -of impatience, doubt, or anger--escaped the keen eye that was fixed -upon her. Mrs. Hazleton, under the influence of conscience, did not -exactly betray the dark secrets of her own heart, but she raised into -importance, an act in itself the most trifling, which would have -passed without any notice had she not been anxious to conceal it.</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as her visitor, taking a hint that could not be mistaken, had -quitted the room and the house, with an air of pique and ill-humor, -Mrs. Hazleton returned to the still-room and recommenced her -operations there; but she found her hand shaking and her whole frame -agitated.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Am I a fool," she asked herself, "to be thus moved by an empty gossip -like that? I must conquer this, or I shall be unfit for my task."</p> - -<p class="normal">She sat down at a table, leaned her head upon her hand, gazed forth -out of the little window, forced her mind away from the present, -thought of birds and flowers, and pictures and statues, and of the two -sunshiny worlds of art and nature--of every thing in short but the -dark, dark cares of her own passions. It was a trick she had learned -to play with herself--one of those pieces of internal policy by which -she had contrived so often and so long, to rule and master with -despotic sway the frequent rebellions of the body against the tyranny -of the mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">She had not sat there two minutes, however, ere there was a tap at the -door, and she started with a quick and jarring thrill, as if that -knock had been a summons of fate. The next instant she looked quickly -around, however, and was satisfied that whoever entered could find no -cause for suspicion. She was there seated quietly at the table. The -vial was out of sight, the fatal powder hidden in the palm of her -hand, and she said aloud, "Come in."</p> - -<p class="normal">The butler entered, bowing profoundly and saying, "The carriage is at -the door, madam, and Wilson has just come back from the house of Mr. -Shanks, but he could not find him."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man hesitated a little as if he wished to add something more, and -Mrs. Hazleton replied in a somewhat sharp tone, "I told you when I -sent it away just now that I would tell you when I was ready. I shall -not be so for half an hour; but let it wait, and do not admit any one. -Mr. Shanks must be found, and informed that I want to see him early -to-morrow, as I shall go to London on the following day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry to say, madam," replied the butler, "that if the talk of -the town is true, he will not be able to come. They say he has been -apprehended on a charge of perjury and forgery in regard to that -business of Sir Philip Hastings, and has been sent off to the county -jail."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton looked certainly a little aghast, and merely saying -"Indeed!" she waved her hand for the man to withdraw.</p> - -<p class="normal">She then sat silent and motionless for at least five minutes. What -passed within her I cannot tell; but when she rose, though pale as -marble, she was firm, calm, and self-possessed as ever. She turned the -key in the lock; she drew a curtain which covered the lower half of -the window, farther across, so that no eye from without, except the -eye of God, could see what she was doing there within. She then drew -forth the vial from its nook, opened out the small packet of powder, -and poured part of it into a glass. She seemed as if she were going to -pour the whole, but she paused in doing so, and folded up the rest -again, saying, "That must be fully enough; I will keep the rest; it -may be serviceable, and I can get no more."</p> - -<p class="normal">She gazed down upon the ground near her feet with a look of cold, -stern, but awful resolution, as if there had been an open grave before -her; and then she placed the packet in her glove, poured a little -distilled water into the glass, shook it, and held the mixture up to -the light. The powder had in great part dissolved, but not entirely, -and she added a small quantity more of the distilled water, and poured -the whole into the vial, which was already about one-third full of a -dark colored liquid.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now I will go," she said, concealing the bottle. But when she reached -the door, and had her hand upon the lock, she paused and remained in -very deep thought for an instant, with her brow slightly contracted -and her lip quivering. Heaven knows what she thought of then,--whether -it was doubt, or fear, or pity, or remorse--but she said in a low -tone, "Down, fool! it shall be done," and she passed out of the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">She paused suddenly in the little passage which led to the still-room, -by a pair of double doors, into the principal part of the house, -perceiving with some degree of consternation that she had been -unconsciously carrying the vial with its dark colored contents in her -hand, exposed to the view of all observers. Her eye ran round the -passage with a quick and eager glance; but there was no one in sight, -and she felt reassured. Even at that moment she could smile at her own -heedlessness, and she did smile as she placed the bottle in her -pocket, saying to herself, "How foolish! I must not suffer such fits -of absence to come upon me, or I shall spoil all."</p> - -<p class="normal">She then walked quietly to her dressing-room, arranged her dress for -the little journey before her, and descended again to the hall, where -the servants were waiting for her corning. After she had entered the -carriage, however, she again fell into a fit of deep thought, closed -her eyes, and remained as if half asleep for nearly an hour. Perhaps -it would be too much to scrutinize the state or changes of her -feelings during that long, painful lapse of thought. That there was a -struggle--a terrible struggle--can hardly be doubted--that opportunity -was given her for repentance, for desistance, between the purpose and -the deed, we know; and there can be little doubt that the small, -still voice--which is ever the voice of God--spoke to her from the -spirit-depth within, and warned her to forbear. But she was of an -unconquerable nature; nothing could turn her; nothing could overpower -her, when she had once resolved on any act. There was no persuasion -had effect; no remonstrance was powerful. Reason, conscience, habit -itself, were but dust in the balance in the face of one of her -determinations.</p> - -<p class="normal">She roused herself suddenly from her fit of moody abstraction, when -the carriage was still more than a mile from the house of Sir Philip -Hastings. She looked at the watch which hung by her side, and gazed at -the sky; and then she said to herself, "That woman's impertinent -intrusion was intolerable. However; I shall get there an hour before -the twenty-four hours have passed, and doubtless she will have kept -her word and refrained from speaking till she has seen me; but I am -afraid I shall find her woke up from her midday doze, and that may -make the matter somewhat difficult. Difficult! why I have seen -jugglers do tricks a thousand times to which this is a mere trifle. My -sleight of hand will not fail me, I think;" and then she set her mind -to work to plan out every step of her proceedings.</p> - -<p class="normal">All was clearly and definitely arranged by the time she arrived at the -door of Sir Philip Hastings' house. Her face was cleared of every -cloud, her whole demeanor under perfect control. She was the Mrs. -Hazleton, the calm, dignified, graceful Mrs. Hazleton, which the world -knew; and when she descended from the carriage with a slow but easy -step, and spoke to the coachman about one of the springs which had -creaked and made a noise on the way, not one of Sir Philip Hastings' -servants could have believed that her mind was occupied with any thing -more grave than the idle frivolous thoughts of an every-day society.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XLVI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton fancied herself in high good luck; for just as -she was -passing through the door into the hall, Lady Hastings' maid crossed -and made her a curtsey. Mrs. Hazleton beckoned her up, saying in a -quiet, easy, every-day tone, "I suppose your lady is awake by this -time?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, madam," replied the maid, "she is asleep still. She did not take -her nap as early as usual to-day; for Mistress Emily was with her, and -my lady would not go to sleep till she went out to take a walk."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton was somewhat alarmed at this intelligence; for she had -not much confidence in her good friend's discretion. "How is Miss -Emily?" she said in a tender tone. "She seemed very sad and low when -last I saw her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is just the same, Madam," replied the maid. "She did not seem -very cheerful when she went out, and has been crying a good deal -to-day."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton was better satisfied, and paused for an instant to -think; but the maid interrupted her cogitations by saying--"I think I -may wake my lady now, if you please to come up, Madam."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, dear, no," replied Mrs. Hazleton. "Do not wake her. I will go in -quietly and sit with her till she wakes naturally. It is a pity to -deprive her of one moment's calm sleep. You needn't come, you needn't -come. I will ring for you when your mistress wakes;" and she quietly -ascended the stairs, though the maid offered some civil remonstrances -to her undertaking the task of watching by her sleeping mistress.</p> - -<p class="normal">The most careful affection could not have prompted greater precautions -in opening the door of the sick lady's chamber, than those which were -taken by Mrs. Hazleton. It was a good solid door, however, well -seasoned, and well hung, and moved upon its hinges without noise. She -closed it with the same care, and then with a soft tread glided up to -the side of the bed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings was sleeping profoundly and quietly; and as she lay in -an attitude of easy grace, a shadow of her youthful beauty seemed to -have returned, and all the traces of after cares and anxiety were -banished for the time. On the table, near the bed-head, stood the vial -of medicine, with the glass and spoon; and Mrs. Hazleton eyed it for a -moment or two without touching it. She saw that she had hit the color -exactly; but the quantity in that vial, and the one she had with her, -was somewhat different. She felt puzzled and doubtful. She asked -herself--"Would the difference be discovered when the time came for -giving her the medicine?" and a certain degree of trepidation seized -her. But she was bold, and said to herself--"They will never see it. -They suspect nothing. They will never see it." She took the vial from -her pocket, and held it for an instant or two in her hand. Again a -doubt and hesitation took possession of her. She gazed at the sleeper -with a haggard eye. The face was so calm, so sweet, so gentle in -expression, that the pleasant look perhaps did move her a little with -remorse. The voice within said again, and again, "Forbear!" She tried -to deafen herself against it, or to fill the ear of conscience with -delusive sounds. "She is dying," she said--"She will die--she cannot -recover. It is but taking away a few short hours, in order to stop -that fatal marriage, which shall never be. I am becoming a fool--a -weak irresolute fool."</p> - -<p class="normal">Just as she thus thought, Lady Hastings moved uneasily, as if to wake -from her slumber. That moment was decisive. With a hurried hand, and -quick as light, Mrs. Hazleton changed the two vials, and concealed the -one which she had taken away.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then it was, probably for the first time, that all the awful -consequences of the deed, for time and for eternity, flashed upon her. -The scales fell from her eyes: no longer passion, or mortified vanity, -or irritated pride, or disappointed love, distorted the objects or -concealed their forms. She stood there consciously a murderer. She -trembled in every limb; and, unable to support herself, sunk down in -the chair that stood near. Had Lady Hastings slept on, Mrs. Hazleton -would have been saved; for her impulse was immediately to reverse the -very act she had done--all would have been saved--all to whom that act -brought wretchedness. But the movement of the chair--the sound -of the vial touching the marble table--the rustle of the thick -silk--dispelled what remained of slumber, and Lady Hastings opened her -eyes drowsily, and looked round. At the very moment she would have -given worlds to recall it. The deed became irrevocable. The barrier of -Fate fell: it was amongst the things done; it was written in the book -of God as a great crime committed. Nothing remained but to insure, -that the end she aimed at would be obtained; that the evil -consequences, in this world at least, should be averted from herself. -There was a terrible struggle to recover her self-command--a wrestling -of the spirit--against the turbulent and fierce emotions which shook -the body. She was still much agitated when Lady Hastings recognized -her and began to speak; but her determination was taken to obtain the -utmost that she could from the act she had committed--to have the full -price of her crime. She was no Judas Iscariot, to be content with the -thirty pieces of silver for the innocent blood, and then hang herself -in despair. Oh no! She had sold her own soul, and she would have its -price.</p> - -<p class="normal">But yet, as I have said, the struggle was terrible, and lasted longer -than usual with her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear me, my kind friend, is that you?" said Lady Hastings. "Have you -been here long? I did not hear you come in."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her words, and her tone, were gentle and affectionate. All the -coldness and the sharpness of the preceding day seemed to have passed -away, and to have been forgotten; but words and tone were equally -jarring to the feelings of Mrs. Hazleton. The sharpest language, the -most angry manner, would have been a relief to her. They would have -afforded her some sort of strength--some sort of support.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is painful enough to hear sweet music when we are very sad. I have -known it rise almost to agony; but the tones of friendship and regard, -of gentleness and tender kindness, to the ear of hatred and malice, -must be more terrible still.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been here but a moment," said Mrs. Hazleton, gloomily--almost -peevishly. "I suppose it was my coming in woke you; but I am sure I -made as little noise as possible."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, what is the matter?" said Lady Hastings. "You look quite pale -and agitated, and you speak quite crossly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your sudden waking startled me," said Mrs. Hazleton; "and, besides, -you looked so ill, my dear friend. I almost thought you were dead till -you began to move."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was malice in the sentence, simple as it seemed, and it had its -effect. Nervous, hypochondriac, Lady Hastings was frightened at the -mere sound, and her heart beat strangely at the very thought of being -supposed dead. It seemed to her to augur that she was very ill; that -she was much worse than her friends allowed her to believe; that they -anticipated her speedy dissolution, and she remained silent and sad -for several minutes, giving Mrs. Hazleton time to recover herself -completely. She was a little piqued too at the abruptness of Mrs. -Hazleton's manner. Neither the speech, nor the mode, nor the speaker, -pleased her; and she replied at length--"Nevertheless, I feel a good -deal better to-day. I have slept well for, I dare say, a couple of -hours; and my dear child Emily has been with me all the morning. I -must say she bears opposition and contradiction very sweetly."</p> - -<p class="normal">She knew that would not please Mrs. Hazleton, and she laid some -emphasis on the words by way of retaliation. It was petty, but it was -quite in her character. "Now I think of it," she added, "you promised -to tell me what you discovered in regard to Marlow's relationship to -Lord Launceston. I find--but never mind. Tell me what you have found -out."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton hesitated. The first impulse was to tell a lie--to -assert that Marlow was not the old earl's heir; but there was -something in Lady Hastings' manner which made her suspect that she had -received more certain information, and she made up her mind to speak -the truth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is very true," she said; "Mr. Marlow is the old lord's nearest -male relation, and heir to his title. I suspect," she added with a -silly sounding laugh, "you have found this out yourself, my dear -friend, and have made your peace with Emily, by withdrawing your -opposition to her marriage."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her heart was very bitter at that moment; for she really did suspect -all that she said. The idea presented itself to her mind (producing a -feeling of fierce disappointment), of all her efforts being rendered -fruitless, her dark schemes frustrated, her cunning contrivances -without effect, at the very moment when the crime, by which she -proposed to insure success, was so far consummated as to be beyond -recall. She was relieved on that score in a moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh dear no," cried Lady Hastings. "I promised you, my dear friend, -that I would say nothing till I saw you, and I have said nothing -either to my husband or Emily. But I will of course now tell her all -immediately, and I do confess it will give me greater satisfaction -than any act of my whole life, to withdraw the opposition to her -marriage which has made her so miserable, and to bid her be happy with -the man of her own choice--an excellent good young man he is too. He -has been laboring, I find, for the last fortnight or three weeks, -night and day, in our service, and has detected the horrible -conspiracy by which my husband was deprived of his rights and -property. I shall tell Emily, with great joy, as soon as ever she -comes back, that were it for nothing but this zeal in our cause, I -would receive him joyfully as my son-in-law."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had better wait till to-morrow morning," said Mrs. Hazleton, in a -cold but significant tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh dear no," said Lady Hastings, somewhat petulantly, "I have waited -quite long enough--perhaps too long. You surely would not have me -protract my child's anxiety and sorrow unnecessarily. No, I will tell -her the moment she returns. She read me part of a letter from Marlow -to-day, which shows me that he has lost no time in seeking to serve us -and make us happy, and I will lose no time in making my child and him -happy also."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As you please," replied Mrs. Hazleton; "I only thought that in this -changeable world, there are so many unexpected things occurring -between one day and another, it might be well for you to pause and -consider a little--in order, I mean, that after-thought may not show -you reason to withdraw your consent, as you now withdraw your -objection."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My consent once given, shall never be withdrawn," replied Lady -Hastings, in a determined tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton looked at the vial by the bedside, and then at her -watch. "You had better avoid all agitation," she said, "and at all -events before you speak with Emily, take a dose of the medicine, which -Short tells me he has given you to soothe and calm your spirits--shall -I give you one now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I thank you," replied Lady Hastings, briefly; "not at present."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it not the time?" said Mrs. Hazleton, looking at her watch again; -"the good man told me you were to take it very regularly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But he told me," replied Lady Hastings, "that nobody was to give it -to me but Emily, and she will be back at the right time, I am sure. -What o'clock is it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Past five," replied Mrs. Hazleton, advancing the hour a little.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then it wants three quarters of an hour to the time," said Lady -Hastings, "and Emily has only gone to take a walk. We are expecting -Marlow to-night, so she will not go far I am sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton fell into profound thought. In proposing to give Lady -Hastings the portion herself, she had deviated a little from her -original plan. She had intended all along, that the mortal draught -should be administered by the hand of Emily, and she had only been -tempted to depart from that purpose by the fear of Lady Hastings -withdrawing her opposition to her daughter's marriage with Marlow -before the deed was fully accomplished. There was no help for it, -however. She was obliged to take her chance of the result; and while -she mused at that moment, vague notions--what shall I call them?--not -exactly schemes or purposes, but rather dreams of turning suspicion -upon Emily herself, of making men believe--suspect, even if they could -not prove--that the daughter knowingly deprived the mother of life, -crossed her imagination. She meditated rather longer than was quite -decorous, and then suddenly recollecting herself she said, "By the -way, has Emily yet condescended to particularize her astounding -charges against your poor friend? I am really anxious to hear them, -and although I confess that the matter has afforded me some amusement, -it has brought painful feelings and doubts with it too: I have -sometimes fancied, my dear friend, that there is a slight aberration -in your poor Emily's mind, and I can account for her conduct in this -instance by no other mode. You know her grandfather, Sir John, had -moments when he was hardly sane. I have heard your own good father -declare upon one occasion, that Sir John was as mad as a lunatic. Tell -me then, has Emily brought forward any proofs, or alluded to these -accusations since I saw you? You said she would explain all in a few -hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She has not as yet explained all," replied Lady Hastings, "but I -cannot deny that she has alluded to the charges, and repeated them all -distinctly. She said that the delay had been rather longer than she -expected; but that as soon as Mr. Dixwell came, every thing should be -told."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The suspense is unpleasant," said Mrs. Hazleton, somewhat -sarcastically; "I trust the young lady does not play with the feelings -of her lover as she does with those of her friends, otherwise I should -pity Marlow."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lady Hastings was a good deal nettled. "I do not think he much -deserves your pity," she replied; "and besides, I think he is quite -satisfied with Emily's conduct, as I am also. I am quite confident she -has good reason for what she says, my dear Madam--not that I mean to -assert that the charges are true, by any means--she may be mistaken, -you know--she may be misinformed--but that she brings them in good -faith, and fully believes that she can prove them distinctly, I do not -for a moment doubt. If she is wrong, nobody will be more grieved, or -more ready to make atonement than herself; but whether she is right or -wrong, remains to be proved."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All that I have to request then is," said Mrs. Hazleton, "that you -will be kind enough to let me know, immediately you are yourself -informed, what are the specific charges, and upon what grounds they -rest. That they must be false, I know; and therefore I shall give -myself no uneasiness about them. All I regret is, that you should be -troubled about what must be frivolous and absurd. Nevertheless, I must -beg you to let me hear immediately."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir Philip will do that," replied Lady Hastings, coldly. "If Emily is -right in her views, the matter will require the intervention of a man. -It will be too serious for a woman to deal with."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Hazleton, with an air of offended dignity. -"Good morning, my dear Lady;" and she quitted the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">She paused upon the broad staircase for two or three minutes, leaning -upon the balustrade in deep thought; but when she descended to the -hall, she asked a servant who stood there if Mistress Emily had -returned. The man replied in the negative, and she then inquired for -Sir Philip, asking to see him.</p> - -<p class="normal">The servant said he was in his library, and proceeded to announce her. -She followed him so closely as to enter the room almost at the same -moment, and beheld Sir Philip Hastings, with his head leaning on his -hand, sitting at the table and gazing earnestly down upon it. There -was a book before him, but it was closed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I beg pardon for intruding, my dear sir," said Mrs. Hazleton, "but I -wished to ask if you know where Emily is. I want to speak with her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know nothing about her," said Sir Philip, abruptly; and then -muttered to himself, "would I knew more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought I saw her in the fields as I came," said Mrs. Hazleton, -"gathering flowers and herbs--she is fond of botany, I believe."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not," said Sir Philip, recovering himself a little. "Pray be -seated, Madam--I have not attended much to her studies lately."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you, I must go," said Mrs. Hazleton. "Perhaps I shall meet her -as I drive along. Do not let me interrupt you, do not let me interrupt -you;" and she quietly quitted the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gathering herbs!" said Sir Philip Hastings, "what new whim is this?"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XLVII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Emily Hastings was not three hundred yards from the house when -Mrs. -Hazleton drove away from the house door. She had never been more than -three hundred yards from it during that day. She had gathered no -herbs, she had wandered through no fields; but, at her mother's -earnest request, she had gone out to breathe the fresh air for half an -hour, and had ascended through the gardens to a little terrace on the -hill, where she had continued to walk up and down under the shade of -some tall trees; had seen Mrs. Hazleton arrive, and saw her depart. -The scene which the terrace commanded was very beautiful in itself, -and the house below, the well-cultivated gardens, a fountain here and -there, neat hedge-rows, and trim, well-ordered fields, gave the whole -an air of home comfort, and peaceful affluence, such as few countries -but England can display.</p> - -<p class="normal">I have shown, or should have shown, that Emily was somewhat of an -impressible character, and the brightness and the pleasant character -of the scene had its usual effect in cheering. Certainly, to any one -who had stood near her, looking over even that fair prospect, she -herself would have been the loveliest object in it. Every year had -brought out some new beauty in her face, and without diminishing one -charm of extreme youth, had expanded her fair form into womanly -richness. The contour of every limb was perfect: the whole in symmetry -complete; and her movements, as she walked to and fro, upon the -terrace, were all full of that easy, floating grace, which requires a -combination of youth and health, and fine proportion, and a pure, high -mind. If there was a defect it was that she was somewhat pale that -day; for she had not slept at all during the preceding night from -agitated feelings, and busy thoughts that would not rest. But the -slight degree of languor, which watching and anxiety had given, was -not without its own peculiar charm, and the liquid brightness of her -eyes seemed but the more dazzling for the drooping of the eyelid, with -its long sweeping fringe.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a mixture, too, strange as it may seem to say so, of sadness -and cheerfulness, in the expression of her face that day--perhaps I -should say an alternation of the two expressions; but the change from -the one to the other was too rapid for distinctness; and the well of -feelings from which the expressions flowed, was of very mingled -waters. The scene of death and suffering which she had lately -witnessed at the cottage, her father's wild and gloomy manner, her -mother's sickness, the displeasure of one parent, however unjust, and -the opposition of another, to her dearest wishes, however -unreasonable, naturally produced anxiety and sadness. But then again, -on the other hand, Marlow's letter had cheered and comforted her much; -the prospect of seeing him so speedily, rejoiced her more than she had -even anticipated, and the certainty that a few short hours would -remove for ever all doubts as to her conduct, her thoughts and her -feelings, from the mind of both her parents, and especially from that -of her father, gave her strength and happy confidence.</p> - -<p class="normal">Poor Emily! How lovely she looked as she walked along there with the -ever varying expressions fluttering over her face, and her rich -nut-brown hair, free and uncovered, floating in curls on the sportive -breath of the breeze.</p> - -<p class="normal">When first she came out the general tone of her feelings was sad; but -the bright hopes seemed to in vigor in the open air, and her mind -fixed more and more gladly on the theme of Marlow's letter. As it did -so she extracted fresh motives of comfort from it. He had given her -many details in regard to his late proceedings. He had openly and -plainly spoken of the conduct of Mrs. Hazleton, and told her he could -prove the facts which he asserted. He had not even hinted at an -injunction to secrecy, and although her first impulse had been to wait -for his arrival and let him explain the whole himself, yet, as it was -now getting late in the day, and he had not come--as the obligation to -secrecy, laid upon her by John Ayliffe, might not be removed till the -following morning, and her mother was evidently anxious and uneasy for -want of all explanations--Emily thought she might be fully justified -in reading more of Marlow's letter to Lady Hastings than she had -hitherto done, and showing her that she had asserted nothing without -reasonable cause. The sight of Mrs. Hazleton's carriage arriving -confirmed her in this intention. She knew that fair lady to possess -very great influence over her mother's mind. She believed that -influence to have been always exerted balefully, and she judged it -better, much better, to cut it short at once, rather than suffer it to -endure even for another day.</p> - -<p class="normal">When she saw the carriage drive away, then, she returned rapidly to -the house, went to her room to get Marlow's letter, and then proceeded -to her mother's chamber.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mrs. Hazleton has been here, my love," said Lady Hastings, as soon as -Emily approached, "and really, she has been very strange and -disagreeable. She seems, not to have the slightest consideration for -me; but even in my weak state, says every thing that can agitate and -annoy me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust, my dear mother, that you will see her no more," said Emily. -"The full proofs of what I told you concerning her. I cannot yet give; -but Marlow lays me under no injunction to secrecy, and I have brought -his letter to read you the part in which he speaks of her. That will -show you quite enough to convince you that Mrs. Hazleton should never -be permitted within these doors again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh read it, pray read it, my dear," said Lady Hastings. "I am all -anxiety to know the facts; for really one does not know how to behave -to this woman, and I feel in a very awkward position towards her."</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily sat down by the bedside and read, word for word, all that Marlow -had written in reference to Mrs. Hazleton, which was interspersed, -here and there, with many kindly and respectful expressions towards -Lady Hastings and her husband, which he knew well would be gratifying -to her whom he addressed. His statements were all clear and precise, -and from them Lady Hastings learned he had obtained proof, from -various different sources, that her seeming friend had knowingly and -willingly supplied John Ayliffe with the means of carrying on his -fraudulent suit against Sir Philip Hastings: that she had been his -counsel and cooperator in all his proceedings, and had suggested many -of the most criminal steps he had taken. The last passage which Emily -read was remarkable: "To see into the dark abyss of that woman's -heart, my dearest Emily," he said, "is more than I can pretend to do; -but it is perfectly clear that she has been moved in all her -proceedings for some years, by bitter personal hatred towards Sir -Philip, Lady Hastings, and yourself. Mere self-interest--to which she -is by no means insensible on ordinary occasions--has been sacrificed -to the gratification of malice, and she has even gone so far as to -place herself in a situation of considerable peril for the purpose of -ruining your excellent father, and making your mother and yourself -unhappy. What offence has been committed by any of your family to -merit such persevering and ruthless hatred, I cannot tell. I only know -that it must have been unintentional; but that it has not been the -less bitterly revenged. Perhaps the disclosures which must be made as -soon as I return, may give us some insight into the cause; but at -present I can only tell you the result."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear Emily," said Lady Hastings, "your father should know this -immediately. He has been very sad and gloomy since his return. I -really cannot tell what is the matter with him; but something weighs -upon his spirits, evidently; but this news will give him relief, or, -at all events, will divert his thoughts. It was very natural, my dear -girl, that you should first tell your mother, but I really think that -we must now take him into our councils."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will go and ask him to come here, at once," said Emily. "I think my -dear father has not understood me rightly lately, and has chilled me -by cold looks and words when I would fain have spoken to him, and -poured my whole thoughts into his bosom. Oh, I shall be glad to do any -thing to regain his confidence; and although I know it must be -regained in a very, very short space of time, yet I would gladly do -any thing to prevent its being withheld from me even a moment longer."</p> - -<p class="normal">She took a step towards the door as she spoke; but Lady Hastings; -unhappily, called her back. "Stay, my Emily," she said. "Come hither, -my dear child; I have something to say that will cheer you and comfort -you, and give you strength to meet any little crosses of your father's -with patience and resignation. He has been sorely tried, and is much -troubled. But I was going to say, dear Emily," and she threw her arms -round her daughter's neck as she leaned over her, "that I have been -thinking much of all that was said the other day, in regard to your -marriage with Marlow. I see that your heart is set upon it, and that -you can only be happy in a union with him. I know him to be a good and -excellent young man; and after all that he has done to serve us, I -must not interpose your wishes any longer; although, perhaps, I might -have chosen differently for you had the choice rested with me. I give -you, therefore, my full and free consent, Emily, and trust you will be -as happy as you deserve, my dear girl. I think you might very well -have made a higher alliance, but----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But none that would have made me half so happy," replied Emily, -embracing her mother. "Oh, dear mother, if you could know the load you -take from my heart, you would be amply repaid for any sacrifice of -opinion you make to your child's happiness. I cannot conceive any -situation more painful to be placed in than a conflict between two -duties. My positive promise to Marlow, my obedience to you, are now -reconciled, and I thank you a thousand thousand times for having thus -relieved me from so terrible a struggle."</p> - -<p class="normal">The tears rose in her eyes as she spoke, and Lady Hastings made her -sit down by her bedside, saying--"Nay, my dear child, do not suffer -yourself to be so much agitated. I did not know till the other day," -she said, feeling some self-reproach at having been brought to play -the part she had acted lately, "I did not know till the other day that -you were really so much in love, my Emily. But I have known what such -feelings are, and can sympathize with you. Indeed I should have -yielded long ago if it had not been for the persuasions of that horrid -Mrs. Hazleton. She always stood in the way of every thing I wanted to -do, and would not even let me know the truth about your real -feelings--pretending all the time to be my friend too!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She has been a friend to none of us, I fear," replied Emily, "and to -me especially an enemy; although I cannot at all tell what I ever did -to merit such pertinacious hatred as she seems to feel towards me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you know, my child," said Lady Hastings, with a meaning smile, "I -have been sometimes inclined to think that she wished to marry Marlow -herself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily started and looked aghast, and then that delicate feeling, that -sensitiveness for the dignity of woman's nature, which none, I -suspect, but woman's heart can clearly comprehend, caused her cheek to -glow like a rose with shame at the very thought of a woman loving -unloved, and seeking unsought. She felt, however, at once, that there -might be--that there probably was--much truth in what her mother said, -that she had touched the true point, and had discovered one at least -of the causes of Mrs. Hazleton's strange conduct. Nevertheless, she -answered, "Oh, dear mother, I hope it is not so. Sure I am that Marlow -would never trifle with any woman's love, and I cannot think that Mrs. -Hazleton would so degrade herself as even to dream of a man who never -dreamt of her; besides, she is old enough to be his mother."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not quite, my child, not quite," replied Lady Hastings. "She is, I -believe, younger than I am; and though old enough to be your mother, -Emily, I could not have been Marlow's, unless I had married at ten -years old. Besides, she is very beautiful, and she knows it, and may -have thought that such beauty as hers, and her great wealth, might -well make up for a small difference of years."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps you are right," replied Emily, thoughtfully, as many a -circumstance flashed upon her memory, which had seemed, to her dark -and mysterious in times past; but to which the cause suggested by her -mother seemed now to afford a key. "But if it was me, only, she -hated," added Emily, "why should she so persecute my father and -yourself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps," replied Lady Hastings, speaking with a clear-sighted wisdom -which she seldom evinced, "perhaps because she knew that the most -terrible blows are those which are aimed at us through those we love. -Besides, one cannot tell what offence your father may have given. He -is very plain spoken, and not accustomed to deal very tenderly. Now -Mrs. Hazleton is not well pleased to hear plain truths, nor to bear -with patience any sharpness or abruptness of manner. Moreover, my -child, I have heard that it was old Sir John Hastings' wish, when we -were all young and free, that your father should marry Mrs. Hazleton. -But he preferred another, perhaps less worthy of him in every -respect."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no, no." cried Emily, with eager affection. "More worthy of him a -thousand times in all ways. More good--more kind--more beautiful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, flatterer," said Lady Hastings, with a smile. "I was well -enough to look at once, Emily, and more to his taste. That is enough. -My glass tells me clearly that I cannot compete with Mrs. Hazleton -now. But it is growing dark, my dear, I must have lights."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will ring for them, and then go and seek my father," replied Emily.</p> - -<p class="normal">She rang, and the maid appeared from the anteroom, just as Lady -Hastings was saying that it was time to take her medicine. Emily took -up the vial and the spoon, poured out the quantity prescribed, with a -steady hand, very unlike that with which Mrs. Hazleton had held the -same bottle an hour before, and having put the dose into a wine-glass, -handed it to her mother.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bring lights," said Lady Hastings, addressing her maid; and the -moment after, she raised the glass to her lips, and drank the -contents.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It tastes very odd, Emily," she said, "I think it must be spoiled by -the heat of the room."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed," said Emily. "That is very strange. The last vial kept quite -well. But Mr. Short will be here to-night, and we will make him send -some more."</p> - -<p class="normal">She paused for a moment or two, and then added, "Now, shall I go for my -father?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," said Lady Hastings, somewhat faintly; "wait till the girl comes -back with the lights."</p> - -<p class="normal">She was silent for a few moments, and then raised herself suddenly on -her arm, saying in a tone of great alarm, "Emily, Emily! I feel very -ill.--Good God, I feel very ill!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily sprang to her side and threw her arm round her; but the next -instant Lady Hastings uttered a fearful scream, like the cry of a -sea-bird, and her head fell back upon her daughter's arm.</p> - -<p class="normal">Emily rang the bell violently: ran to the door and shrieked loudly for -aid; for she saw too well that her mother was dying.</p> - -<p class="normal">The maid, several of the other servants, and Sir Philip Hastings -himself, rushed into the room. Lights were brought: Mr. Short was sent -for; but ere the servant had well passed the gates, Lady Hastings, -after a few convulsive sobs, had yielded up her spirit.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">When the surgeon entered the room of Lady Hastings there was a -profound silence. Sir Philip Hastings was standing by his wife's -bedside, motionless as a statue; gazing with a knitted brow and fixed -stony eye upon the features of her whom he had so well and constantly -loved. Emily lay fainting upon the floor, with her head supported by -one of the maids, while another tried to recall her to life. Two more -servants were the room, but they, like all the rest, remained silent -in presence of the awful scene before them. The windows were not yet -closed, and the faint, struggling, gray twilight, came in, and mingled -sombrely with the pale light of the wax candles, giving even a more -deathlike hue to the face of the corpse, and throwing strange crossing -lights and shades upon features which remained convulsed even after -the agony of death was past.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good God! Sir Philip, what is this I hear?" exclaimed Mr. Short -before he caught the whole particulars of the scene.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings made no answer. He did not even seem to hear; and -the surgeon advanced to the bedside, and gazed for an instant on the -face of Lady Hastings. He took her hand in his. It was still warm; but -when he put his fingers on her wrist, no pulse vibrated beneath his -touch. The heart, too, was quite still: not a flutter indicated a -lingering spark of vitality. The breath was gone; and though the -surgeon sought on the dressing-table for a small mirror, and applied -it to the lips, it remained undimmed. He shook his head sadly; but yet -he made some efforts. He took a vial of essence from his pocket, and -applied it to the nostrils; he opened a vein, and a few drops of blood -issued from it, but stopped immediately; and several other experiments -he tried, that not a lingering doubt might remain of death having -taken possession completely.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length he ceased, saying, "It is in vain. How did this happen? It -is very strange. There was not an indication of such an event -yesterday. She was decidedly better."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so she was this morning, sir," said Lady, Hastings' maid; "she -slept quite well too, sir, before Mrs. Hazleton came."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings remained profoundly silent; but Mr. Short gave a -sudden start at the name of Mrs. Hazleton, and asked the maid when -that lady had left her mistress.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not half an hour before her death, sir," replied the maid; "and even -for a little time after she was gone, my lady seemed quite well and -cheerful with Mistress Emily."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Were you with her when she was seized so suddenly?" asked the -surgeon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, sir," said the maid. "No one was with her but Mistress Emily. My -lady had sent me away for lights; but just when I was coming up the -stairs, I heard my young lady ringing the bell violently, and -screaming for help, and in two minutes after I came in my lady was -dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must hear the first symptoms," said Mr. Short, "and this dear young -lady needs attending to. If I know her right, this shock will well -nigh kill her."</p> - -<p class="normal">He moved towards Emily as he spoke, but in passing across, his eye -lighted upon the vial which was standing upon the table at the -bedside, with the spoon and wine-glass which had been used in -administering the medicine. Something in the appearance of the bottle -seemed to strike him suddenly, and he raised it sharply and held it to -the candle. "Good God!" exclaimed Mr. Short; "Good God!" and his face -turned as pale as death, and a fit of trembling seized upon him.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was several moments before he uttered another word. He put his hand -to his brow, and seemed to think deeply and anxiously. Then he -examined the bottle again, took out the cork, held it to his nostrils, -tasted a single drop poured upon the end of his finger, and shook his -head sadly and solemnly. Every eye but those of the maid, who was -supporting Emily's head, was now turned upon him. There was something -in his manner so unusual, so strange, that even the attention of Sir -Philip Hastings was attracted by it; and he looked gloomily at the -surgeon for a moment, as if in a dreamy wonder at his proceedings.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, Mr. Short spoke again. "Can any body tell me," he said, -"when Lady Hastings took a dose of this stuff?"</p> - -<p class="normal">No one remarked the irreverent term which he applied to the contents -of the vial; for every one who listened to him would probably have -given it the same name, had it been a mithridate; but the maid of the -deceased lady replied at once, "Only a few minutes before she died, -sir. I saw her take it myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who gave it to her?" demanded the surgeon, sternly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My young lady, sir," answered the maid, "just before I went for the -lights, and I am sure she did not give her a drop too much of it; for -she measured it out carefully in the spoon before she put it into the -glass."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Short remained silent again, and Sir Philip Hastings spoke for the -first time with a great effort.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is the matter, sir?" he asked, gloomily; "you seem confounded, -thunder-struck. What has befallen to draw your eyes from that?" and he -pointed to the bed of his dead wife.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am bound to say, Sir Philip," replied Mr. Short, "that it is my -belief that the dose given to Lady Hastings from that bottle, has been -the cause of her death. In a word, I believe it to be poison."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings gazed in his face with a wild look of horror. His -teeth chattered in his head, his whole frame shook visibly to the eyes -of those around, but he uttered not a word, and it was the maid who -answered, exclaiming in a shrill voice, "Oh, how horrible! How could -you send my lady such stuff?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I never sent it to her, woman!" said Mr. Short, sternly; "if you had -eyes you would see that it is not of the same color, nor has it the -same taste of that which I sent. It is different in every respect; and -if no other proof were wanting that which I sent Lady Hastings was -harmless, it would be sufficient to say, that the last vial I brought -was delivered to you yourself yesterday quite full, that Lady Hastings -ought to have taken four or five doses of that medicine between that -time and this, and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the maid, interrupting him, "she took it quite -regularly. I saw Mistress Emily give her three doses myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, did those hurt her?" asked Mr. Short, sharply.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can't say they did," replied the woman, "indeed she always seemed -better a little while after taking them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well that shows that this is not the same," said Mr. Short; "besides, -this bottle has never come out of my surgery. I always choose mine -perfectly clear and white, that I may be enabled to see if the -medicine is at all troubled or not. This has a green tinge, and must -have come from some common druggist's, and the stuff that it contains -must be strictly analyzed."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, Sir Philip Hastings strode up to him, grasped his hand, -and wrung it hard, saying in a hollow husky tone, and pointing to the -bottle, "What is it you mean? What is it all about? What is that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Poison! Sir Philip," replied Mr. Short, moved by the feelings of the -moment beyond all his ordinary prudence; "poison! and I very much fear -that it has been administered to your poor lady intentionally."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gathering herbs!--gathering herbs!" screamed Sir Philip Hastings, -like a madman; and tearing the hair out of his head, he rushed away -from the room, and locked himself into his library.</p> - -<p class="normal">No one could tell to what his words alluded, nor did they trouble -themselves much to discover; for every one at once concluded that the -shock of his wife's sudden death, and the discovery of its terrible -cause, had driven him insane.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, do run after my master, sir," cried the maid; "he has gone into -the library, I heard him bang the door."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Has he got any arms there?" asked Mr. Short, "there used to be -pistols at the Hall."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, sir, no," exclaimed one of the housemaids, "they are not there. -They are in his dressing-room out yonder."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, I will leave him alone for the present," said the -surgeon; "here is one who demands more immediate care. Poor young -lady! If she should discover, in her present state of grief, how her -mother has died, and that her hand has been employed to produce such a -catastrophe, it will destroy either her life or her intellect."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But who could have done it, sir?" exclaimed Lady Hastings' maid.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never you mind that for the present," said Mr. Short; "I have my -suspicions; but they are no more than suspicions at present. You stay -with me here, and let the other woman carry your poor young lady to -her room. I will be with her presently, and will give her what will do -her good. One of you, as soon as possible, send me up a man-servant--a -groom would be best."</p> - -<p class="normal">His orders were obeyed promptly; for he spoke with a tone of decision -and command which the terrible circumstances of the moment enabled him -to assume; although in ordinary circumstances he was a man of mild and -gentle character.</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as poor Emily was borne away to her own chamber, Mr. Short -turned to the maid again, inquiring, "How long had Mistress Hazleton -gone when your mistress was seized with these fatal convulsions?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"About half an hour, sir," said the maid. "It couldn't have been -longer. Mrs. Hazleton came when my lady was asleep, and went in alone, -saying she would not disturb her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" cried the surgeon; "was she with her for any time alone?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"All the time that she staid, sir," replied the maid; "for I did not -like to go in, and Mistress Emily was walking on the terrace up the -hill."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I suppose then you cannot tell how long Mrs. Hazleton remained alone -with your lady before she woke?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I can pretty nearly, sir," answered the maid, "for though Mrs. -Hazleton told me not to come in with her, and said she would ring when -my lady waked, I came after her into the anteroom, and sat there all -the time. For about five minutes, or it might be ten, all was quiet -enough; but at the end of that time I heard my lady and Mrs. Hazleton -begin to speak."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You heard no other sounds previously?" asked the surgeon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing but the rustle of Mrs. Hazleton's gown, as she moved about -once or twice," said the maid, "and of that I can't be rightly sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You did not by chance look through the key-hole?" asked Mr. Short.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, that I didn't," said the maid, tossing her head, "I never did -such a thing in my life."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well. Get me a sheet of paper," replied the surgeon, "and a pen -and ink--oh, they are here are they?" But before he could sit down to -write, a groom crept in through the half-open door, and received -orders from the surgeon to saddle a horse instantly and return. Mr. -Short then sat down and wrote as follows:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ma. ATKINSON:--As you are high constable of Hartwell, I write as a -justice of the peace for the county of ----, to authorize and require -you to follow immediately the carriage of The Honorable Mistress -Hazleton, to apprehend that lady and to keep her in your safe custody, -taking care that her person be immediately searched by some proper -person, and that any vials, bottles, powders, or other objects -whatsoever bearing the appearance of drugs or medicines, or of having -contained them, be carefully preserved, and marked for identification. -I have not time or menus to fill up a regular warrant; but I will -justify you in, and be responsible for, whatever you may do to insure -that Mrs. Hazleton has no means or opportunity allowed her of -concealing or making away with any thing she has carried away from -this house, where Lady Hastings has just deceased from the effects of -poison. You had better take the fresh horse of the bearer, and lose -not an instant in overtaking the carriage."</p> - -<p class="normal">He then signed his name just as the groom returned; but ere he gave -the man the paper he added in a postscript:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had better search the carriage minutely, and make any preliminary -investigation that you may think fit before I arrive. The hints given -above will be sufficient for your guidance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take this paper immediately to Jenny Best's cottage," said Mr. Short -to the groom. "Ask if Mr. Atkinson is there. Should he be so, give it -to him, and let him take your horse if he requires it. Should you not -find him there, seek for him either at the house of Mr. Dixwell, or at -the farm close by. Should he be at neither of those places, follow him -on to his house near Hartwell at full speed. Do you understand?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, quite well, sir," said the groom, who was a shrewd, keen fellow; -and he left the room without more words.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he got down to the hall door, however, he thought he might as -well know more of his errand, and read the paper which he had received -with the butler and the foot man. A brief consultation followed -between them, and not a little horror and anger was excited by the -information they had gained from the paper, for Lady Hastings had been -well loved by her servants, and Mrs. Hazleton was but little loved by -any of her inferiors in station.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go you on, John, as fast as possible," said the footman, "I'll get, a -horse and come after you as fast as possible with Harry; for this -grand dame has three servants with her, and mayn't choose to be taken -easily."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, come along, come along," said the groom; "we'll run her down, -I'll warrant," and hurrying away he got to his horse's back.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time Mr. Short had proceeded to the room of poor Emily -Hastings, whom he found recovering from her fainting fit, and sobbing -in the bitterness of grief.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, Mr. Short," she said, "this is very terrible. There surely was -something wrong about that medicine, for my poor mother was taken ill -the moment she had swallowed it. She had had the same quantity three -times to-day before; but she said that it tasted strange and -unpleasant. It could not surely have been spoiled by keeping so short -a time, and that could not have killed her even if it had been so. -Pray do examine it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will, I will, my dear," replied Mr. Short kindly, "but I don't -think the medicine I sent could spoil, and if it did it could have no -evil effect. Now quiet yourself, my dear Mistress Emily; I am going to -give you a draught which will soothe your nerves, and fit you better -to bear all these terrible things."</p> - -<p class="normal">He then had recourse to the little store of medicines he usually -carried in his pocket, and administered first a stimulant and then a -somewhat powerful narcotic. For about ten minutes he remained seated -by Emily's bedside with her own maid standing at the foot, and during -that time the poor girl spoke once or twice, asking anxiously after -her father, and expressing a great desire to go to him. Gradually, -however, her eyelid's began to droop, her sentences remained -unfinished, and, in the end, she fell into a deep and profound sleep.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She will not wake for six or eight hours," said Mr. Short, addressing -the maid. "But when she does wake it would be better you should be -with her, my good girl. If you like, therefore, you can go and take -some rest in the meanwhile; but order yourself to be called at the end -of five hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you are quite sure that she will remain asleep, sir," said the -maid, "I will lie down, for I am sure sorrow wearies one more than -work."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She won't wake," said Mr. Short, "for six hours at least. I will now -go and see Sir Philip," and descending the stairs he knocked at the -door of the library, thinking that probably he should find it locked. -The stern voice of Sir Philip Hastings, however, said "Come in," in a -wonderfully calm tone; and when the surgeon entered he found Sir -Philip seated at the library table, and apparently reading a Greek -book, the contents of which Mr. Short could not at all divine.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XLIX.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">I must now follow the groom on his road, first to the cottage -of good -Jenny Best, where he learned that Mr. Atkinson had gone away some five -minutes before, and then to the house of the neighboring farm, where -he found the person he sought still seated on his horse, but talking -to the tenant at the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here, Mr. Atkinson," cried the groom as he came up; "here's a note -for you from Mr. Short the surgeon--a sort of warrant, I believe; for -he's a justice of the peace, you know, as well as a surgeon. Read it -quick, Mr. Atkinson, read it quick; for it won't keep hot long; and if -that woman isn't caught I think I'll hang myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bring us a light, farmer," said Mr. Atkinson, "quickly. What is all -this about, John?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Madam Hazleton has poisoned my lady, and she's as dead as a door -nail," said the groom, "that's all; and bad enough too. Zounds, I -thought she'd do some mischief; she was always so hard upon her -horses."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good heaven!" exclaimed Mr. Atkinson, "you do not mean to say that -she has certainly poisoned Lady Hastings?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Mr. Short believes it, and every one believes it," answered the -groom.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Atkinson might have endeavored to reduce the number comprised in -the term "every body" to its just proportions; but before he could do -so, the farmer returned with a light shaded from the wind by his hat; -and the good high constable of Hartwell, bending over his saddle, read -hurriedly Mr. Short's brief note.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What's the matter? what's the matter?" cried the farmer; and great -was his surprise and consternation to hear that Lady Hastings was -dead, and that strong suspicion existed of her having been poisoned by -Mrs. Hazleton. There is a stern, dogged love of justice, however, in -the English peasant, which rises into energy and excitement; and the -farmer was instantly heard calling for his horse.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Zounds, I'll ride with you, Atkinson," he said. "This great dame has -got so many servants, she may think fit to set the law at defiance; -but she must be taught that high people cannot poison other people any -more than low ones. But you go on; you go on. I'll catch you up, -perhaps. If not, I'll come in time, don't you be afraid."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'm going along too," said the groom, "and two others are coming; so -if her tall men show fight, I think we'll leather their jackets."</p> - -<p class="normal">Away they went as fast as they could go, and to say truth, Mr. -Atkinson was not at all sorry to have some assistance; for without -ever committing any one act which could be characterized as criminal, -unjust, or wrong, within the knowledge of her neighbors, Mrs. -Hazleton had somehow impressed the minds of all who surrounded her -with the conviction, that hers was a most daring and remorseless -nature. The general world received their impression of her -character--and often a false one, be it good or evil--by her greater -and more important actions: the little circle that surrounds us forms -a slower but more certain judgment from minute but often repeated -traits.</p> - -<p class="normal">On rode Mr. Atkinson and the groom, as fast as their horses could -carry them. Wherever there was turf by the road-side they galloped; -and at the rate of progression made by carriages in that day, they -made sure they must be gaining very rapidly upon the object of their -pursuit. When first they set out it was very dark; but at the end of -twenty minutes, in which period they had ridden somewhat more than -four miles, the edge of the moon began to appear above the horizon, -and her light showed them well nigh another mile on the road before -them. Still no carriage was in sight, and the groom exclaimed, "Dang -it, Mr. Atkinson, we must spur on, or she will get home before we -catch her."</p> - -<p class="normal">It is impossible to run after any thing without feeling some of the -eagerness of the foxhound, and, it is not to be denied that Mr. -Atkinson shared in some degree in the impetuous spirit of the chase -with the groom. He said nothing about it, indeed; but he made his -spurs mark his horse's sides, and on they went up the opposite slope -at a quicker pace than ever. From the top was a very considerable -descent into the bottom of the valley; in which Hartwell is situated; -but the moon had not yet risen high enough to illuminate more than -half the scene, and darkness, doubly dark, seemed to have gathered -over the low grounds beneath the eyes of the two horsemen.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Atkinson thought he perceived some large object below, moving on -towards Hartwell; but he could not be sure of it till he had descended -some way down the hill, when the carriage of Mrs. Hazleton, mounting a -little rise into the moonlight, became plainly visible to the eye. The -groom took off his cap and waved it, saying, "Tally ho!" but neither -he nor his companion paused in their rapid course, but went thundering -down at the risk of their necks, and of their horses' knees. The -carriage moved slowly; the pursuers went very fast: and at the end of -about four minutes they had reached and passed the two mounted -men-servants, who, as customary in those days, rode behind the -vehicle. Robberies on the highway were by no means uncommon; so that -it was the custom for the attendants upon a carriage to travel armed, -and Mrs. Hazleton's two men instantly laid their hands upon the -holsters of their pistols, when those too rapid riders passed them at -such a furious pace. Mr. Atkinson, however, was not a man to be easily -frightened from any thing he undertook, and wheeling his horse sharply -when in a little advance of the coachman, he exclaimed, "In the King's -name I command you to stop. I am James Atkinson, high constable of -Hartwell. You know me, sir; and I command you in the King's name to -stop!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Master Atkinson, what is all this about?" cried the coachman. -"There is nobody but Mrs. Hazleton here. Don't you know the carriage?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite well," replied Mr. Atkinson; "but you hear what I say, and will -disobey at your peril. John, ride round to the other side, while I -speak to the lady here."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now Mrs. Hazleton had heard the whole of this conversation, and had -there been sufficient light, Mr. Atkinson, whose eye was turned -towards where she sat, would have seen her turn deadly pale. It might -naturally be supposed that in any ordinary circumstances she would -have directed her first attention to the side from which the sounds -proceeded; but so far from that being the case, she instantly put her -hand in her pocket, and was almost in the act of throwing something -into the road, when John the groom presented himself at the window, -and she stopped suddenly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it, Mr. Atkinson?" she exclaimed, turning to the other -window, and speaking in a tone of high indignation. "Why do you -presume to stop my carriage on the King's highway?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because I am ordered, Madam, by lawful authority, so to do." replied -Mr. Atkinson. "I am sorry, Madam, to tell you that you must consider -yourself as a prisoner."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton would fain have asked upon what charge; but she did not -dare, and for a moment strength and courage failed her. It was but for -a moment, however, and in the next she exclaimed in a loud and more -imperious tone than ever, "This is a pretence for robbery or insult. -Drive on, coachman. Mathew--Rogerson--clear the way!"</p> - -<p class="normal">She reckoned wrongly, however, if she counted upon any great zeal in -her servants. The two men hesitated; for the King's name was a tower -of strength which they did not at all like to assail. Their mistress -repeated her order in an angry tone, and one of them, with habitual -deference to her commands, went so far as to cock the pistol which he -now held in his hand; but at that moment the adverse party received an -accession of strength which rendered all assistance hopeless. The -other two servants of Sir Philip Hastings came down the hill at full -speed, and a gentleman, followed by a servant, rode up from the side -of Hartwell, and addressed Mr. Atkinson by his name.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Mr. Marlow!" said Mr. Atkinson. "You come at a very melancholy -moment, sir, and to witness a very unpleasant scene; but, -nevertheless; I must require your assistance, sir, as this lady seems -inclined to resist the law."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is the matter?" asked Marlow. "I hope there is no mistake here. -If I see rightly this is Mrs. Hazleton's carriage. What is she charged -with?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Murder, sir," replied. Mr. Atkinson, who had been a little irritated -by the lady's resistance, and spoke more plainly than he might -otherwise have done. "The murder of Lady Hastings by poison."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was spoken. She heard the words clearly and distinctly. She -had been detected. Some small oversight--some accidental -circumstance--some precaution forgotten--some accidental word, or -gesture, had betrayed the dark secret, revealed the terrible crime. It -was all known to men, as well as to God, and Mrs. Hazleton sunk back -in the carriage overpowered by the agony of detection.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, ho; here come the other men," said Mr. Atkinson, as the two -servants of Sir Philip Hastings rode up. "Now, coachman, drive on till -I tell you to stop. You, John, keep close to the other window, and -watch it well. I will take care of this one. The others come behind. -Mr. Marlow, you had perhaps better ride with us for half a mile or so; -for I must stop at the house of Widow Warmington, as I have orders to -make a strict search."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, take me to my own house--take me to my own house," said Mrs. -Hazleton, in a faint tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I dare not venture to do that, Madam," said Mr. Atkinson; "for we are -nearly three miles distant, and accidents might happen by the way -which would defeat the ends of justice. I must have a full search made -at the very first place where I can procure lights. That will be at -Mrs. Warmington's; but she is a friend of your own, Madam, and you -will be received there with all kindness."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton did not reply; and the carriage drove on, Mr. Atkinson -keeping a keen watch upon one window, and the groom riding close to -the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">A few minutes brought them to the house of the shrewd widow, and the -bell was rung sharply by one of the servants. A woman servant appeared -in answer to the summons, and without asking whether her mistress was -at home, or not, Atkinson took the candle from her hand, saying, "Lend -me the light for a moment. I wish to light Mrs. Hazleton into the -house. Now, Madam, will you please to descend.--John, dismount, and -come round here; assist Mrs. Hazleton to alight, and come with us on -her other side."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton saw that she could not double or turn there. She -withdrew her hand from her pocket where she had hitherto held it, -resumed her forgotten air of dignity, and though, to say the truth, -she would rather have met her "dearest foe in heaven," than have -entered that house so escorted, she walked with a firm step and -dauntless eye, with the high constable on one side, and groom on the -other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They shall not see me quail," she said to herself. "They shall not -see me quail. I know the worst, and I can meet it--I have had my -revenge."</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time, the maid had run in haste to tell her mistress the -marvels of the scene she had just witnessed, and Mrs. Warmington had -gathered enough, without divining the whole, to rejoice her with -anticipated triumph. The arrest of Shanks the attorney on a charge of -conspiracy and forgery, had set going the hundred tongues of Rumor, -few of which had spared the name of Mrs. Hazleton; and Mrs. -Warmington, at the worst, suspected that her dear friend was -implicated in the guilt of the attorney. That, however, was sufficient -to give the widow considerable satisfaction, for she had not forgotten -either some coldness and neglect with which Mrs. Hazleton had treated -her for some time, or her impatient and insolent conduct that morning; -and though upon the strength of her plumpness, and easy manners, -people looked upon Mrs. Warmington as a very good natured person, yet -fat people can be very vindictive sometimes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good gracious me, my dear, what is the matter?" exclaimed Mrs. -Warmington, as the prisoner was brought in, while Mr. Atkinson, in a -speaking to those behind, exclaimed, "Let no one touch or approach the -carriage till I return."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton made no answer to her dear friend's questions, and the -high constable, taking a little step forward, said, "I beg pardon, -Mrs. Warmington, for intruding into your house; but I have been -ordered to apprehend this lady, and to have her person and her -carriage strictly searched, without giving the opportunity for the -concealment or destruction of any thing. It seems to me that Mrs. -Hazleton has something bulky in that left hand pocket. As I do not -like to put my hand rudely upon a lady, may I ask you, Madam, to let -me see what that pocket contains?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Without the slightest hesitation, but with a good deal of curiosity, -Mrs. Warmington advanced at once and took hold of the rich silk -brocade of the prisoner's gown.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Out, woman!" cried Mrs. Hazleton, with the fire flashing from her -eyes; and she struck her.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Mrs. Warmington did not quit her hold or her purpose. "Good -gracious, what a termagant!" she exclaimed, and at once thrust her -right hand into the pocket, and drew forth the vial which had been -sent by the surgeon to Lady Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Warmington. "Why, this is the very bottle I -saw you mixing stuff in this morning, when you seemed so angry and -vexed at my coming into the still-room.--No, it isn't the same either; -but it was one very like this, only darker in the the color."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said Mr. Atkinson. "Madam, will you have the goodness to put a -mark upon that bottle by which you can know it again?--Scratch it with -a diamond or something."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, poor I have no diamonds," said Mrs. Warmington. "My dear, will -you lend me that ring?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Hazleton gave her a withering glance, but made no reply; and -Marlow pointed to two peculiar spots in the glass of the bottle, -saying, "By those marks it will be known, so that it cannot be -mistaken." His words were addressed to Mr. Atkinson; for he felt -disgusted and sickened by the heartless and insulting tone of Mrs. -Warmington towards her former friend.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the sound of his voice--for she had not yet looked at him--Mrs. -Hazleton started and looked round. It is not possible to tell the -feelings which affected her heart at that moment, or to picture with -the pen the varied expressions, all terrible, which swept over her -beautiful countenance like a storm. She remembered how she had loved -him. Perhaps at that moment she knew for the first time how much she -had loved him. She felt too, how strongly love and hate had been -mingled together by the fiery alchemy of disappointment, as veins of -incongruous metals have been mixed by the great convulsions of the -early earth. She felt too, at that moment, that it was this love and -this hate which had been the cause of her deepest crimes, and all -their consequences--the awful situation in which she there stood, the -lingering tortures of imprisonment, the agonies of trial, and the -bitter consummation of the scaffold.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, Marlow, Marlow," she cried--in a tone for the first time -sorrowful--"to see you mingling in these acts!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have nothing to do with the present business, Mrs. Hazleton," -replied Marlow, "but I am bound to say that in consequence of -information I have procured, it would have been my duty to have caused -your apprehension upon other charges, had not this, of which I know -nothing, been preferred against you. All is discovered, madam all is -known. With a slight clue, at first, I have pursued the intricate -labyrinth of your conduct for the last two years to its conclusion, -and every thing has been made plain as day.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You, Marlow, you?" cried Mrs. Hazleton, fixing her eyes steadfastly -upon him, and then adding, as he bowed his head in token of assent, -"but all is not known, even to you. You shall know all, however, -before I die; and perhaps to know all may wring your heart, hard -though it be. But what am I talking of?" she continued, her face -becoming suddenly suffused with crimson, and her fine features -convulsed with rage. "All is discovered, is it? And you have done it -it? What matters it to me, then, whose heart is wrung--or what becomes -of you, or me, or any one? A drop more or less is nothing in the -overflowing well. Why should I struggle longer? Why should I hide any -thing? Why should I fly from this charge to meet another? I did it--I -poisoned her--I put the drug by her bedside. It is all true--I did it -all--I have had my revenge as far as it could be obtained, and now do -with me what you like. But remember, Marlow, remember, if Emily -Hastings marries you, she does it with a mother's curse upon her -head--a curse that will fall upon her heart like a mildew, and wither -it for ever--a curse that will dry up the source of all fond -affections, blacken the brightest hours, and embitter the purest -joys--a dying mother's curse! She knows it--she has heard it--it can -never be recalled. I have put that beyond fate. Ha ha! It is upon you -both; and if you venture to unite your unhappy destinies, may that -curse cling to you and blast you for ever."</p> - -<p class="normal">She spoke with all the vehemence of intense passion, breaking, for the -first time in life, through strong habitual self-control; and when she -had done, she cast herself into a chair, and covered her eyes with her -hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">She wept not; but her whole frame heaved and shivered, with the -terrible emotion that tore her heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time, Marlow and Mrs. Warmington and the high constable -spoke upon it, consulting what was to be done with her. The prison -system of England was at that time as bad as it could be, and those -who condemned and abhorred her the most, were anxious to spare her as -long as possible the horrors of the jail. At length, after many -difficulties, and a good deal of hesitation, Mr. Atkinson agreed, at -the suggestion of Mrs. Warmington, to leave her in the house where she -then was, under the charge of a constable to be sent for from -Hartwell. There was a high upper room from which there was no -possibility of escape, with an antechamber in which the constable -could watch, and there he was determined to confine her till she could -be brought before the magistrate on the following day.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must have her thoroughly searched in the first place," said Mr. -Atkinson; "for she may have some more of the poison about her, and in -her present state, after all she has confessed, she is just as likely -to swallow it as not. However, Mr. Marlow, you had better, I think, -ride on as fast as possible to see Sir Philip Hastings, and tell him -what has occurred here. If I judge rightly, your presence will be very -needful there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will indeed," said Marlow, a sudden vague apprehension of he knew -not what, seizing upon him; "God grant I have not tarried too long -already;" and quitting the room, he sprang upon his horse's back -again.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER L.</h4> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings, I have said, was reading a Greek book when Mr. -Short entered the library. His face was grave, and very stern; but all -traces of the terrible agitation with which he had quited the side of -his wife's death-bed, were now gone from his face. He hardly looked up -when the surgeon entered. He seemed not only reading, but absorbed by -what he read. Mr. Short thought the paroxysm of grief was passed, and -that the mind of Sir Philip Hastings, settling down into a calm -melancholy, was seeking its habitual relief in books. He knew, as -every medical man must know, the various whimsical resources to which -the heart of man flies, as if for refuge, in moments of great -affliction. The trifles with which some will occupy themselves--the -intense abstraction for which others will labor--the imaginations, the -visions, the fancies to which others again will apply, not for -consolation, not for comfort; but for escape from the one dark -predominant idea. He said a few words to Sir Philip then, of a kindly -but somewhat commonplace character, and the baronet looked up, gazing -at him across the candles which stood upon the library table. Had Mr. -Short's attention been particularly called to Sir Philip's -countenance, he would have perceived at once, that the pupils of the -eyes were strangely and unnaturally contracted, and that from time to -time a certain nervous twitching of the muscles curled the lip, and -indented the cheek. But he did not remark these facts: he merely saw -that Sir Philip was reading: that he had recovered his calmness; and -he judged that that which might be strange in other men, might not be -strange in him. In regard to what he believed the great cause of Sir -Philip's grief, his wife's death, he thought it better to say nothing; -but he naturally concluded that a father would be anxious to hear of a -daughter's health under such circumstances, and therefore he told him -that Emily was better and more composed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip made a slight, but impatient motion of the hand, but Mr. -Short went on to say, "As she was so severely and terribly affected, -Sir Philip, I have given Mistress Emily a composing draught, which has -already had the intended effect of throwing her into profound slumber. -It will insure her, I think, at least six, if not seven hours of calm -repose, and I trust she will rise better able to bear her grief than -she would be now, were she conscious of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip mattered something between his teeth which the surgeon did -not hear, and Mr. Short proceeded, saying, "Will you permit me to -suggest, Sir Philip, that it would be better for you too, my dear sir, -to take something which would counteract the depressing effect of -sorrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thank you, sir, I thank you," replied Sir Philip, laying his hand -upon the book; "I have no need. The mind under suffering seeks -medicines for the mind. The body is not affected. It is well--too -well. Here is my doctor;" and he raised his hand and let it fall upon -the book again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then, I will leave you for to-night, Sir Philip," said the -surgeon; "to-morrow I must intrude upon you on business of great -importance. I will now take my leave."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip rose ceremoniously from his chair and bowed his head; -gazing upon the surgeon as he left the room and shut the door, with a -keen, cunning, watchful look from under his overhanging eyebrows.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" he said, when the surgeon had left the room, "he thought to -catch me--to find out what I intended to do--slumber!--calm, tranquil -repose--so near a murdered mother! God of heaven!" and he bent down -his head till his forehead touched the pages of the book, and remained -with his face thus concealed for several minutes.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is to be remarked that not one person, with a single exception, to -whom the circumstances of Lady Hastings' death were known, even -dreamed of suspecting Emily. They all knew her, comprehended her -character, loved her, had faith in her, except her own unhappy father. -But with him, if the death of his unhappy wife were terrible, his -suspicions of his daughter were a thousand fold more so. To his -distorted vision a multitude of circumstances brought proof all -powerful. "She has tried to destroy her father," he thought, "and she -has not scrupled to destroy her mother. In the one case there seemed -no object. In the other there was the great object of revenge, with -others perhaps more mean, but not less potent. Try her cause what way -I will, the same result appears. The mother opposes the daughter's -marriage to the man she loves--threatens to frustrate the dearest wish -of her heart,--and nothing but death will satisfy her. This is, the -end then of all these reveries--these alternate fits of gloom and -levity. The ill balanced mind has lost its equipoise, and all has -given way to passion. But what must I do---oh God! what must I do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">His thoughts are here given, not exactly as they presented themselves; -for they were more vague, confused, and disjointed; but such was the -sum and substance of them. He raised his head from the book and -looked up, and after thinking for a moment or two he said, "This -Josephus--this Jew--gives numerous instances, if I remember right, of -justice done by fathers upon their children--ay, and by the express -command of God. The priest of the Most High was punished for yielding -to human weakness in the case of his sons. The warrior Jephtha spared -not his best beloved. What does the Roman teach? Not to show pity to -those the nearest to us by blood, the closest in affection, where -justice demands unwavering execution. It mast be so. There is but the -choice left, to give her over to hands of strangers, to add public -shame, and public punishment to that which justice demands, or to do -that myself which they must inevitably do. She must die--such a -monster must not remain upon the earth. She has plotted against her -father's life--she has colleagued with his fraudulent enemies--she has -betrayed the heart that fondly trusted her--she has visited secretly -the haunts of a low, vulgar ruffian--she has aided and abetted those -who have plundered her own parents--she has ended by the murder of the -mother who so fondly loved her. I--I am bound, by every duty to -society, to deliver it from one, who for my curse, and its bane, I -brought into the world. She must be put to death; and no hand but mine -must do it."</p> - -<p class="normal">He gazed gloomily down upon the table for several minutes, and then -paced the room rapidly with agony in every line of his face. He wrung -his hands hard together. He lifted up his eyes towards heaven, and -often, often, he cried out, "Oh God! Oh God! Is there no hope?--no -doubt?--no opening for pause or hesitation?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"None, none, none," he said at length, and sank down into his chair -again.</p> - -<p class="normal">His eye wandered round the room, as if seeking some object he -could not see, and then he murmured, "So beautiful--so young--so -engaging--just eighteen summers; and yet such a load of crime!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He bent his head again, and a few drops of agony fell from his eyes -upon the table. Then clasping his forehead tight with his hand, he -remained for several minutes thoughtful and silent. He seemed to grow -calmer; but it was a deceitful seeming; and there was a wild, -unnatural light in his eyes which, notwithstanding all the apparent -shrewdness of his reasoning--the seeming connection and clearness of -his argument, would have shown to those expert in such matters, that -there was something not right within the brain.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length he said to himself in a whisper, as if he was afraid that -some one should hear him, "She sleeps--the man said she sleeps--now is -the time--I must not hesitate--I must not falter--now is the time!" -and he rose and approached the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">Once, he stopped for a moment--once, doubt and irresolution took -possession of him. But then he cast them off; and moved on again.</p> - -<p class="normal">With a slow step, but firm and noiseless tread, he crossed the hall -and mounted the stairs. No one saw him: the servants were scattered: -there was no one to oppose his progress, or to say, "Forbear!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He reached his daughter's room, opened the door quietly, went in, and -closed it. Then he gazed eagerly around. The curtains were withdrawn: -his fair, sweet child lay sleeping calmly as an infant. He could see -all around. Father and child were there. There was no one else.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still he gazed around, seeking perhaps for something with which to do -the fatal deed! His eye rested on a packet of papers upon the table. -It contained those which Marlow had left with poor gentle Emily to -justify her to her father in case of need.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oh, would he but take them up! Would he but read the words within!</p> - -<p class="normal">He turns away--he steals toward the bed! Drop the curtain! I can write -no more. Emily is gone!</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER LI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">When Mr. Short, the surgeon, left the presence of Sir Philip -Hastings, -he found the butler seated in an arm-chair in the hall, cogitating -sadly over all the lamentable events of the day. He was an old -servant of the family, and full of that personal interest in every -member of it which now, alas, in these times of improvement and -utilitarianism (or as it should be called, selfishness reduced to -rule), when it seems to be the great object of every one to bring men -down to the level of a mere machine, is no longer, or very rarely, met -with. He rose as soon as the surgeon appeared, and inquired eagerly -after his poor master. "I am afraid he is touched here, sir," he said, -laying his finger on his forehead. "He has not been at all right ever -since he came back from London, and I am sure, when he came down -to-night, calling out in such a way about gathering herbs, I thought -he had gone clean crazy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has become quite calm and composed now," replied Mr. Short; -"though of course he is very sad: but as I can do no good by staying -with him, I must go down to the farm for my horse, and ride away where -my presence is immediately wanted."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They have brought your horse up from the farm, sir," said the butler. -"It is in the stable-yard."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thither Mr. Short immediately proceeded, mounted, and rode away. When -he had gone about five miles, or perhaps a little more, he perceived -that two horsemen were approaching him rapidly, and he looked sharp -towards them, thinking they might be Mr. Atkinson and the groom. As -they came near, the outlines of the figures showed him that such was -not the case; but the foremost of the two pulled up suddenly as he was -passing, and Marlow's voice exclaimed, "Is that Mr. Short?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, sir, yes, Mr. Marlow," replied the surgeon. "I am very glad -indeed you have come; for there has been terrible work this day at the -house of poor Sir Philip Hastings. Lady Hastings is no more, and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have heard the whole sad history," replied Marlow, "and am riding -as fast as possible to see what can be done for Sir Philip, and my -poor Emily. I only stopped to tell you that Mrs. Hazleton has been -taken, the vial of medicine found upon her, and that she has boldly -confessed the fact of having poisoned poor Lady Hastings. You will -find her and Atkinson, the high constable, at the house of Mrs. -Warmington.--Good night, Mr. Short; good night;" and Marlow spurred on -again.</p> - -<p class="normal">The delay had been very short, but it was fatal.</p> - -<p class="normal">When Marlow reached the front entrance of the court, he threw his rein -to the groom and without the ceremony of ringing, entered the house. -There was a lamp burning in the hall, which was vacant; but Marlow -heard a step upon the great staircase, and looked up. A dark shadowy -figure was coming staggering down, and as it entered the sphere of the -light in the hall, Marlow recognized the form, rather than the -features, of Sir Philip Hastings. His face was ashy pale: not a trace -of color was discernible in any part: the very lips were white; and -the gray hair stood ragged and wild upon his head. His haggard and -sunken eye fell upon Marlow; but he was passing onward to the library, -as if he did not know him, tottering and reeling like a drunken man, -when Marlow, very much shocked, stopped him, exclaiming, "Good God, -Sir Philip, do you not know me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The unhappy man started, turned round, and grasped him tightly by the -wrist, saying, in a hoarse whisper, and looking over his shoulder -towards the staircase, "Do not go there, do not go there--come -hither--you do not know what has happened."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do, indeed, Sir Philip," replied Marlow, in a soothing tone, "I -have heard--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, no, no!" said Sir Philip Hastings. "No one knows but I--there -was no one there--I did it all myself.--Come hither, I say!" and he -drew Marlow on towards the library.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has lost his senses," thought Marlow. "I must try and soothe him -before I see my Poor Emily. I will try and turn his mind to other -things;" and, suffering himself to be led forward, he entered the -library with Sir Philip Hastings, who instantly cast himself into a -chair, and pressed his hands before his eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow stood and gazed at him for a moment in silent compassion, and -then he said, "Take comfort, Sir Philip. Take comfort. I bring you a -great store of news; and what I have to tell will require great bodily -and mental exertions from you, to deal with all the painful -circumstances in which you are placed. I have followed out every -thread of the shameful conspiracy against you--not a turning of the -whole rascally scheme is undiscovered."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She had her share in that too," said Sir Philip, looking up in his -face, with a wild, uncertain sort of questioning look.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know it," replied Marlow, thinking he spoke of Mrs. Hazleton, "She -was the prime mover in it all."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip wrung his hands tight, one within the other, murmuring "Oh, -God; oh, God!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," continued Marlow, "she will soon expiate her crimes; for she -has been taken, and proofs of her guilt found upon her, so strong and -convincing, that she did not think fit even to conceal the fact, but -confessed her crime at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip started, and grasped both the arms of the chair in which he -sat, tight in his thin white hands, gazing at Marlow with a look of -bewildered horror that cannot be described. Marlow went on, however, -saying, "I had previously told her, indeed, that I had discovered all -her dark and treacherous schemes--how she had labored to make this -whole family miserable--how she had attempted to blacken the character -of my dear Emily--imitated her handwriting--induced you to -misunderstand her whole conduct, and thrown dark hints and suspicions -in your way. She knew that she could not escape this charge, even if -she could conceal her guilt of to-day, and she confessed the whole."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who--who--who?" cried Sir Philip Hastings, almost in a scream. "Of -whom are you talking, man?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of Mrs. Hazleton," replied Marlow. "Were you not speaking of her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings stretched forth his hands, as if to push him -farther from him; but his only reply was a deep groan, and, after a -moment's pause, Marlow proceeded, "I, thought you were speaking of -her--of her whose task it has been, ever since poor Emily's -ill-starred visit to her house, to calumniate and wrong that -dear innocent girl--to make you think her guilty of bitter -indiscretions, if not great crimes--who, more than any one, aided to -wrong you, and who now openly avows that she placed the poison in your -poor wife's room in order to destroy her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I have killed her!--and I have killed her!" cried Sir Philip -Hastings, rising up erect and tall--"and I have killed her!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good God, whom?" exclaimed Marlow, with his heart beating as if it -would burst through his side. "Whom do you mean, sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip remained silent for a moment, pressing his hands tight upon -his temples, and then, answered in a slow, solemn voice, "Your -Emily--my Emily--my own sweet--" but he did not finish the sentence; -for ere the last words could be uttered, he fell forward on the floor -like a dead man.</p> - -<p class="normal">For an instant, stupified and horror-struck, Marlow remained -motionless, hardly comprehending, hardly believing what he had heard. -The next instant, however, he rushed out of the library, and found the -butler with the late Lady Hastings' maid, passing through the back of -the house towards the front staircase.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which is Emily's room?" he cried,--"Which is Emily's room?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is asleep, sir," said the maid.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which is her room?" cried Marlow, vehemently. "He is mad--he is -mad--your master is mad--he says he has killed her. Which is her -room?" and he darted up the staircase.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The third on the right, sir," cried the butler, following with the -maid, as fast as possible; and Marlow darted towards the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">A fit of trembling, however, seized him as he laid his hand upon the -lock. "He must have exaggerated," he said to himself. "He has been -unkind--harsh--he calls that killing her--I will open it gently," and -he and the two servants entered it nearly together.</p> - -<p class="normal">All was quiet. All was still. The light was burning on the table. -There was a large heavy pillow cast down by the side of the bed, and -the bed coverings were in some disorder.</p> - -<p class="normal">No need of such a stealthy pace, Marlow! You may tread firm and -boldly. Even your beloved step will not wake her. The body sleeps till -the day of judgment. The spirit has gone where the wicked cease from -troubling, and the weary are at rest.</p> - -<p class="normal">The beautiful face was calm and tranquil; though beneath each of the -closed eyes was a deep bluish mark, and the lips had lost their -redness. The fair delicate hands grasped the bed-clothes tightly, and -the whole position of the figure showed that death had not taken place -without a convulsive struggle. Marlow tried, with trembling hands, to -unclasp the fingers from the bed-clothes, and though he could not do -it, he fancied he felt warmth in the palms of the hands. A momentary -gleam of hope came upon him. More assistance was called: every effort -that could be suggested was made; but it was all in vain. -Consciousness--breath--life--could never be restored. There was not a -dry eye amongst all those around, when the young lover, giving up the -hopeless task, cast himself on his knees by the bedside, and pressed -his face upon the dead hand of her whom he had loved so well.</p> - -<p class="normal">Just at that moment the voice of Sir Philip Hastings was heard below -singing a stanza of some light song. It was the most horrible sound -that ever was heard!</p> - -<p class="normal">Two of the servants ran down in haste, and the sight of the living was -as terrible as that of the dead. Philip Hastings had recovered from -his fit without assistance, had raised himself, and was now walking -about the room with the same sort of zigzag, tottering step with which -he bad met Marlow on his return. A stream of blood from a wound which -he had inflicted on his forehead when he fell, was still pouring down -his face, rendering its deathlike paleness only the more ghastly. His -mouth was slightly drawn aside, giving a strange sinister expression -to his countenance; but from his eyes, once so full of thought and -intellect, every trace of reason had vanished. He held his hands -before him, and the fingers of the one beat time upon the back of the -other to the air that he was singing, and which he continued to sing -even after the entrance of the servants. He uttered not a word to them -on their appearance: he took not the slightest notice of them till the -butler, seeing his condition, took him by the arm, and asked if he had -not better go to bed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, Sir Philip attempted to answer, but his words when spoken were -indistinct as well as confused, and it became evident that he had a -stroke of palsy. The servants knew hardly what to do. Marlow they did -not dare to disturb in his deep grief: the surgeon was by this time -far away: their mistress, and her fair unhappy daughter were dead: -their master had become an idiot. It was the greatest possible relief -to them when they beheld Mr. Dixwell the clergyman enter the library. -Some boy employed about the stables or the kitchen, had carried down a -vague tale of the horrors to the Rectory; and the good clergyman, -though exhausted with all the fatigues and anxiety of the day, had -hurried down at once to see what could be done for the survivors of -that doomed family. He comprehended the situation of Sir Philip -Hastings in a moment; but he put many questions to the butler as to -what preceded the terrible event, the effects of which he beheld. The -old servant answered little. To most of the questions he merely shook -his heal sadly; but that mute reply was sufficient; and Mr. Dixwell, -taking Sir Philip by the hand, said, "You had better retire to rest, -sir--you are not well."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings gave an unmeaning smile, but followed the -clergyman mildly, and having seen him to a bedroom, and left him in -the hands of his servants, Mr. Dixwell turned his step towards the -chamber of poor Emily.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow had risen from his knees; but was still standing by the bedside -with his arms folded on his chest. His face was stern and sorrowful; -but perfectly calm.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Dixwell approached quietly, and in a melancholy tone, addressed to -him some words of consolation--commonplace enough indeed, but well -intended.</p> - -<p class="normal">Marlow laid his hand upon the clergyman's arm, and pointed to Emily's -beautiful but ghastly face. He only added, "In vain!--Do what is -needful--Do what is right--I am incapable;" and leaving the room, he -descended to the library, where he closed the door, and remained in -silence and solitude till day broke on the following morning.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER LII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Warmington became a person of some importance with the -people of -Hartwell. All thoughts were turned towards her house. Everybody wished -they could get in and see and hear more; for the news had spread -rapidly and wide, colored and distorted; but yet falling far short of -the whole terrible truth. When Mr. Short himself arrived in town, he -found three other magistrates had already assembled, and that Mr. -Atkinson and Sir Philip Hastings' groom, John, were already giving -them some desultory and informal information as to the apprehension of -Mrs. Hazleton and its causes. The first consideration after his -appearance amongst them, was what was to be done with the prisoner; -for one of the justices--a gentleman of old family in the county, who -had not much liked the appointment of the surgeon to the bench, and -had generally found motives for differing in opinion with him ever -since--objected to leaving Mrs. Hazleton, even for the night, in any -other place than the common jail. The more merciful opinion of the -majority, however, prevailed. Atkinson gave every assurance that the -constable whom he had placed in charge of the lady was perfectly to be -depended upon, and that the room in which she was locked up, was too -high to admit the possibility of escape. Thus it was determined that -Mrs. Hazleton should be left where she was for the night, and brought -before the magistrates for examination at an early hour on the -following morning.</p> - -<p class="normal">Even after this decision was come to, however, the conversation or -consultation, if it may be so called, was prolonged for some time in a -gossiping, idle sort of way. Gentlemen sat upon the edge of the table -with their hats on, or leaned against the mantelpiece, beating their -boots with their riding-whips, and some marvelled, and some inquired, -and some expounded the law with the dignity and confidence, if not -with the sagacity and learning of a Judge. They were still engaged in -this discussion when the news of Emily's death was brought to -Hartwell, and produced a painful and terrible sensation in the breasts -of the lightest and most careless of those present. The man who -conveyed the intelligence brought also a summons to Mr. Short to -return immediately to Sir Philip Hastings, and only waiting to get a -fresh horse, the surgeon set out upon his return with a very sad and -sorrowful heart. He would not disturb Mr. Marlow; though he was -informed that he was in the library; but he remained with Sir Philip -Hastings himself during the greater part of the night, and only set -out for his own house to take a little repose before the meeting of -the magistrates, some quarter of an hour before the first dawn of day.</p> - -<p class="normal">Full of painful thoughts he rode on at a quick pace, till the yellow -and russet hues of the morning began to appear in the east. He then -slackened his pace a little, and naturally, as he approached the house -of Mrs. Warmington, he raised his eye towards the windows of the room -in which he knew that the beautiful demon, who had produced so much -misery to others and herself, had been imprisoned.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Short was riding on but suddenly a sound met his ear, and as his -eyes ran down the building from the windows above, to a small plot of -grass which the lady of the house called the lawn, he drew up his -horse, and rode sharply up to the gate.</p> - -<p class="normal">But it is time now to turn to Mrs. Hazleton. Lodged in the upper -chamber which had been decided upon as the one fittest for their -purpose, by Mr. Atkinson and the rest, with the constable from -Hartwell domiciled in the anteroom, and the door between locked, Mrs. -Hazleton gave herself up to despair; for her state of mind well -deserved that name, although her feelings were very different from -those which are commonly designated by that name. Surely to feel that -every earthly hope has passed away--to see that further struggle for -any object of desire is vain--to know that the struggles which have -already taken place have been fruitless--to feel that their objects -have been base, unworthy, criminal--to perceive no gleam of light on -either side of the tomb--to have the present a wilderness, the future -an abyss, the past and its memories a hell--surely this is despair! It -matters not with what firmness, or what fierceness it may be borne: it -matters not what fiery passions, what sturdy resolutions, what weak -regrets, what agonizing fears, mingle with the state. This is despair! -and such was the feeling of Mrs. Hazleton. She saw vast opportunities, -a splendid position in society, wealth, beauty, wit, mind, -accomplishments, all thrown away, and for the gratification of base -passions exchanged for disgrace, and crime, and a horrible death. It -was a bad bargain; but she felt she had played her whole for revenge -and had lost; and she abode the issue resolutely.</p> - -<p class="normal">All these advantages which I have enumerated, and many more, Mrs. -Hazleton had possessed; but she wanted two things which are absolutely -necessary to human happiness and human virtue--heart and principle. -The one she never could have obtained; for by nature she was -heartless. The other might have been bestowed upon her by her parents. -But they had failed to do so; for their own proper principles had been -too scanty for them to bestow any on their daughter. Yet, strange to -say, the lack of heart somewhat mitigated the intensity of the lady's -sufferings now. She felt not her situation as bitterly as other -persons with a greater portion of sensibility would inevitably have -done. She had so trained herself to resist all small emotions, that -they had in reality become obliterated. Fiery passions she could feel; -for the earthquake rends the granite which the chisel will not touch, -and these affected her now as much as ever.</p> - -<p class="normal">At that very moment, as she sat there, with her head resting on her -hand, what is the meaning of that stern, knitted brow, that fixed, -steadfast gaze forward, that tight compression of the lips and teeth -At that moment Nero's wish was in the bosom of Mrs. Hazleton. Could -she have slaughtered half the human race to blot out all evidence of -her crimes, and to escape the grinning shame which she knew awaited -her, she would have done it without remorse. Other feelings, too, were -present. A sense of anger at herself for having suffered herself to be -in the slightest degree moved or agitated by any thing that had -occurred; a determined effort, too, was there--I will not call it a -struggle--to regain entire command of herself--to be as calm, as -graceful, as self-possessed, as dignified as when in high prosperity -with unsullied fame. It might be, in a certain sense, playing a part, -and doubtless the celebrated Madame Tiquet did the same; but she was -playing a part for her own eyes, as well as those of others. She -resolved to be firm, and she was firm. "Death," she said, "is before -me: for that I am prepared. It cannot agitate a nerve, or make a limb -shake. All other evils are trifles compared with this. Why then should -I suffer them to affect me in the least? No, no, they shall not see me -quail!"</p> - -<p class="normal">After she had thus thought for some two hours, gaining more and more -self-command every moment, as she turned and re-turned all the points -of her situation in her own mind, and viewed them in every different -aspect, she rose to retire to rest, lay down, and tried to sleep. At -first importunate thought troubled her. The same kind of ideas went -on--the same reasonings upon them--and slumber for more than one hour -would not visit her eyelids. But she was a very resolute woman, and at -length she determined that she would not think: she would banish -thought altogether; she would not let the mind rest for one moment -upon any subject whatsoever; and she succeeded. The absence of thought -is sleep; and she slept; but resolution ended where sleep begun, and -the images she had banished waking, returned to the mind in slumber. -Her rest was troubled. Growing fancies seemed to come thick upon her -mind; though the eyes remained closed, the features were agitated; the -lips moved. Sometimes she laughed; sometimes she moaned piteously; -sometimes tears found their way through her closed eyelids; and sobs -struggled in her bosom.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, between three and four o'clock in the morning, Mrs. -Hazleton rose up in bed. She opened her eyes, too; but there was a -dull glassy look about them--a fixed leaden stare, not natural to her -waking hours. Slowly she got out of bed, approached the table, took up -a candle which she had left burning there, and which was now nearly -down to the socket, and walked straight to the door, saying aloud, -"Very dark--very dark--every thing is dark."</p> - -<p class="normal">She tried the door, but found it locked; and the constable slept on. -She then returned to the table, seated herself, and for some five or -ten minutes continued to twist her long hair round her fingers. She -then rose again, and went straight to the window, threw it up, and -seemed to look out. "Chilly--chilly," she said. "I most walk to warm -myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">The sill of the window was somewhat high, but that was no obstacle; -for there was a chair near, and Mrs. Hazleton placed it for herself -with as much care as if she had been wide awake. When this was done -she stepped lightly upon it, and put her knee upon the window-sill, -raised herself suddenly upright, and struck her head sharply against -the upper part of the window. It is probable that the blow woke her, -but at all events it destroyed her balance, and she fell forward at -once out of the window.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a loud shriek, and then a deep groan. But the constable -slept on, and no one knew the fate that had befallen her 'till Mr. -Short, the surgeon, passing the house, was attracted to the spot where -she had fallen, by a moan, and the sight of a white object lying -beneath the window.</p> - -<p class="normal">A loud ringing of the bell, and knocking at the door, soon roused the -inhabitants of the house, and the mangled form of Mrs. Hazleton was -carried in and stretched upon a bed. She was not dead; and although -almost every bone was broken, except the skull, and the terrible -injuries she had received precluded all possibility of recovery, she -regained her senses before three o'clock of the same day, and -continued to linger for somewhat more than a fortnight in agonies both -of mind and body, too terrible to be described. With the rapid, though -gradual weakening of the corporeal frame, the powers of the mind -became enfeebled--the vigorous resolution failed--the self-command -abandoned her. Half an hour's death she could have borne with stoical -firmness, but a fortnight's was too much. The thoughts she could shut -out in vigorous health, forced themselves upon her as she lay there -like a crushed worm, and the tortures of hell got hold upon her, long -before the spirit departed. Yet a sparkle of the old spirit showed -itself even to her last hour. That she was conscious of an eternity, -that she was convinced of after judgment, of the reward of good, and -of the punishment of evil, that she believed in a God, a hell, a -heaven, there can be no doubt--indeed her words more than once implied -it--and the anguish of mind under which she seemed to writhe proved -it. But yet, she refused all religious consolation; expressed no -penitence: no sorrow for what she had done, and scoffed at the surgeon -when he hinted that repentance might avail her even then. It seemed -that, as with the earthly future, she had made up her mind at once, -when first detected, to meet her fate boldly; so with the judgment of -the immortal future, she was resolute to encounter it unbending. When -urged, nearly at her last hour, to show some repentance, she replied, -in the weak and faltering voice of death, but in as determined a tone -as ever, "It is all trash. An hour's repentance could do no good even -if I could repent. But I do not. Nobody does repent. They regret their -failure, are terrified by their punishment; but they and I would do -exactly the same again if we hoped for success and impunity. Talk to -me no more of it. I do not wish to think of hell till it has hold upon -me, if that should ever be."</p> - -<p class="normal">She said no more from that moment forward, and in about an hour after, -her spirit went to meet the fate she had so boldly dared.</p> - -<p class="normal">But few persons remain to be noticed in this concluding chapter, and -with regard to their after history, the imagination of the reader -might perhaps be left to deal, without further information. A few -words, however, may be said, merely to give a clue to their after -fate.</p> - -<p class="normal">The prosecution of Mr. Shanks, the attorney, was carried on but -languidly, and it is certain that he was not convicted of the higher -offence of forgery. On some charge, however, it would seem he was -sentenced to two years' imprisonment, and the last that is heard of -him, shows him blacking shoes at the inn in Carrington, then a very -old man, in the reign of George the First.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Philip Hastings never recovered his senses, not did he seem to -have any recollection of the horrible events with which his earthly -history may be said to have closed; but his life was not far extended. -For about six months he continued in the same lamentable state in -which we have last depicted him, sometimes singing, sometimes -laughing, and sometimes absorbed in deep melancholy. At the end of -that period, another paralytic stroke left him in a state of complete -fatuity, from which, in two years, he was relieved by death.</p> - -<p class="normal">If the reader will look into the annals of the reign of Queen Anne, he -will find frequent mention in the campaigns of Marlborough and Eugene, -of a Major, a Colonel, and a General Marlow. They were all the same -person; and they will find that officer often reported as severely -wounded. I cannot trace his history much farther; but the genealogies -of those times show, that in 1712, one Earl of Launceston died at the -age of eighty-seven, and was succeeded by the eighth Earl, who only -survived three years, and the title with him became extinct, as it is -particularly marked that he died unmarried. As this last of the race -is distinguished by the title of Lieutenant-General, the Earl of -Launceston, there can be no doubt that this was the lover and promised -husband of poor Emily Hastings.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is a sad tale, and rarely perhaps has any such tragedy darkened the -page of domestic history in England. A whole family were swept away, -and most of those connected with them, in a very short space of time; -but it is not the number of deaths within that period that gives its -gloominess to the page--for every domestic history is little but a -record of deaths--but the circumstances. Youth, beauty, virtue, -gentleness, kindness, honor, integrity, punctilious rectitude: reason, -energy, wisdom, sometimes, nay often, have no effect as a screen from -misfortune, sorrow, and death. Were this world all, what a frightful -chaos would human life be. But the very sorrows and adversities of the -good, prove that there is a life beyond, where all will be made even.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE END.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man in Black, by -G. P. R. 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