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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..a84d764 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51898 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51898) diff --git a/old/51898-8.txt b/old/51898-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 50c027e..0000000 --- a/old/51898-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,18449 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Beauchamp, by G. P. R. (George Payne Rainford) 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: Beauchamp - or, The Error. - -Author: G. P. R. (George Payne Rainford) James - -Release Date: April 30, 2016 [EBook #51898] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEAUCHAMP *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided from -Google Books (Harvard University) - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page scan source: Google Books - https://books.google.com/books?id=32oWAAAAYAAJ - (Harvard University) - 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. - - - - - - -COLLECTION -OF -BRITISH AUTHORS. -VOL. CVII. - ----------- - -BEAUCHAMP BY G. P. R. JAMES. -IN ONE VOLUME. - - - - - - -TAUCHNITZ EDITION. -By the same Author. - -MORLEY ERNSTEIN (WITH PORTRAIT) 1 vol. -FOREST DAYS 1 vol. -THE FALSE HEIR 1 vol. -ARABELLA STUART 1 vol. -ROSE D'ALBRET 1 vol. -ARRAH NEIL 1 vol. -AGINCOURT 1 vol. -THE SMUGGLER 1 vol. -THE STEP-MOTHER 2 vols. -HEIDELBERG 1 vol. -THE GIPSY 1 vol. -THE CASTLE OF EHRENSTEIN 1 vol. -DARNLEY 1 vol. -RUSSELL 2 vols. -THE CONVICT 2 vols. -SIR THEODORE BROUGHTON 2 vols. - - - - - - -BEAUCHAMP; - -OR, - -THE ERROR. - -BY - -G. P. R. JAMES. - - -_COPYRIGHT EDITION_. - - -LEIPZIG -BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ -1846. - - - - - - -BEAUCHAMP; -OR, -THE ERROR. - - - - -CHAPTER I. -The Attack and the Rescue. - - -It was in the reign of one of the Georges--it does not matter which, -though perhaps the reader may discover in the course of this history. -After all, what does it signify in what king's reign an event -happened, for although there may be something in giving to any -particular story "a local habitation and a name," yet there is -nothing, strange to say, which gives one--I speak from my own -experience--a greater perception of the delusiveness of every thing on -earth, than the study of, and deep acquaintance with the annals of a -many-lined monarchy. To see how these spoilt children of fortune have -fought and struggled, coveted and endeavoured, obtained or have been -disappointed, hoped, feared, joyed, and passed away--ay, passed, so -that the monumental stone and a few historic lines from friend and -foe, as dry as doubtful, are all that remains of them--it gives us a -sensation that all on earth is a delusion, that history is but the -pages of a dream-book, the truest chronicle, but a record of the -unreal pageants that are gone. - -However that may be, it was in the reign of one of the Georges--I wont -be particular as to the date, for Heaven knows I am likely to be -mistaken in the curl of a whig, or the fashion of a sleeve-button, and -then what would the antiquaries say? - -It was in the reign of one of the Georges--thank Heaven, there were -four of them, in long and even succession, so that I may do any thing -I like with the coats, waistcoats, and breeches, and have a vast range -through a wilderness of petticoats (hooped and unhooped, tight, loose, -long, short, flowing, tucked up), to say nothing of flounces and -furbelows, besides head-dresses, in endless variety, patches, powder, -and pomatum, fans, gloves, and high-heeled shoes. Heaven and earth -what a scope!--but I am determined to write this work just as it suits -me. I have written enough as it suits the public, and I am very happy -to find that I have suited them, but in this, I hope and trust, both -to please my public and myself too. Thus I wish to secure myself a -clear field, and therefore do declare, in the first instance, that I -will stand upon no unities of time or place, but will indulge in all -the vagaries that I please, will wander hither and thither at my own -discretion, will dwell upon those points that please myself as long as -I can find pleasure therein, and will leap over every unsafe or -disagreeable place with the bound of a kangaroo. That being settled, -and perfectly agreed upon between the reader and myself, we will go on -if you please. - -It was in the reign of one of the Georges--I have a great mind to dart -away again, but I wont, for it is well to be compassionate--when a -gentleman of six or seven-and-twenty years of age, rode along a -pleasant country road, somewhere in the west of England. It was -eventide, when the sun, tired with his long race, slowly wends -downward to the place of his repose, looking back with a beaming -glance of satisfaction on the bright things he has seen, and like a -benevolent heart, smiling at the blessings and the benefits he has -left behind him. - -The season of the year was one that has served poets and -romance-writers a great deal, and which with very becoming, but -somewhat dishonest gratitude, they have praised ten times more than it -deserves. It was, in short, spring--that season when we are often -enticed to wander forth by a bright sky, as if for the express purpose -of being wet to the skin by a drenching shower, or cut to the heart by -the piercing east wind--that coquettish season that is never for ten -minutes in the same mind, which delights in disappointing -expectations, and in frowning as soon as she has smiled. Let those who -love coquettes sing of spring, for my part, I abhor the whole race of -them. Nevertheless, there is something very engaging in that first -youth of the year. We may be cross with its wild tricks and sportive -mischief, we may be vexed at its whims and caprices as with those of -an untamed boy or girl, but yet there is a grace in its waywardness, a -softness in its blue violet eyes, a brightness in its uncontaminated -smile, a lustre even in the penitential tears, dried up as soon as -shed, that has a charm we cannot, if we would, shake off. Oh yes, -youth and spring speak to every heart of hope, and hope is the magic -of life! Do you not see the glorious promise of great things to be -done in that wild and wayward boy? Do you not see the bright assurance -of warmer and mellower days to come in that chequered April sky? -Youth, and spring, and hope, they are a glad triad, inseparable in -essence, and all aspiring towards the everlasting goal of thought--the -Future. - -It was the month of May--now if poets and romance-writers, as we have -before said, have done injustice, or more than justice to spring, as a -whole, never were two poor months so scandalously overpraised as April -and May. The good old Scotch poet declares that in April, - - - Primroses paint the sweet plain, - And summer returning rejoices the swain, - - -but rarely, oh, how rarely, do we ever see primroses busy at such -artistical work; and as for summer, if he is returning at all, it is -like a boy going back to school, and lingering sadly by the way. Such, -at least, is the case now-a-days, and if the advice of another old -poet, who tells us, - - - Stir not a clout, - Till May be out, - - -would seem to prove that in ancient times, as well as at present, May -was by no means so genial a month, as it has pleased certain -personages to represent it. Nevertheless, we know that every now and -then in May, comes in a warm and summer-like day, bright, and soft, -and beautiful, full of a tempered sunshine, appearing after the cold -days of winter, like joy succeeding sorrow, and entendered by the -memories of the past, such was the sort of day upon which the -traveller we have spoken of rode on upon his way through a very fair -and smiling country. The season had been somewhat early in its -expansion; the weather had been unusually mild in March; frequent and -heavy showers had succeeded in April, and pouring through the veins of -the earth the bountiful libation of the sky, had warmed the bosom of -our common mother to a rich and lovely glow. The trees were all out in -leaf, but yet not sufficiently unclosed to have lost the rich variety -of hues, displayed by the early buds. The colouring would have been -almost that of autumn, so bright and manifold were the tints upon the -wood, had it not been for a certain tenderness of aspect which spoke -of youth and not decay. There was the oak in its red and brown, here -and there mingled with the verdant hue of summer, but beside it waved -the beech, with its long arms robed in the gentlest and the softest -green, the ash pointed its taper fingers in the direction where the -wind was going, and the larch lifted up its graceful spire, fringed -with its grass-like filaments, while its beautiful cones, full of -their coral studs, afforded ornaments, that queens might be proud to -wear. The fields were spangled with a thousand flowers, and every bank -and hedge was jewelled with vegetable stars; not only the pale violet, -and the yellow primrose, but the purple columbine and the white -hawthorn, even the odorous-breathed cowslip, the wild geranium, and a -long list beside, were all spreading their beauty in the evening air, -and glittering with the drops of a shower not long passed by. -Overhead, too, the sky was full of radiance, warm yet soft, deep in -the azure, yet tinted with the evening light, as if the sunbeams were -the threads of a crimson woof woven in with the blue warp of the sky. - -But enough of this, it was a very fine evening, of a very fine day, of -a very fine season, and that surely was enough to make any man happy -who had good health, a guinea in his purse, and had not committed -either murder or bigamy. The horseman seemed to feel the influence of -the scene as much as could be expected of any man. When he was in a -green bowery lane, with the wild plants trailing up and down the red -banks, and he could neither look to the right nor to the left, he -whistled snatches of a popular song, when he rose the side of the -hill, and could gaze over the world around, he looked at the green -fields, or the clear stream, or the woody coverts with searching and -yet well satisfied eyes, and murmured to himself, "Capital sport here, -I dare say." - -He seemed to be fond of variety, for sometimes he trotted his horse, -sometimes made him canter, sometimes brought him into a walk, but it -would appear that there was a certain portion of humanity mingling -with the latent motives for these proceedings, inasmuch as the walk -was either up or down a steep hill, the canter over a soft piece of -turf wherever it could be found, and the trot, where the road was -tolerably level. Ever and anon, too, he patted the beast's neck, and -talked to him quite friendly, and the horse would have answered him in -the same tone, beyond doubt, if horses' throats and tongues had been -formed by nature with the design of holding long conversations. Such -not being the case, however, all the beast could do to express his -satisfaction at his master's commendations, was to arch his neck and -bend down his under lip till it touched his chest, and put his -quivering ears backwards and forwards in a very significant manner. It -was a handsome animal, of a bright bay colour, about fifteen hands and -a half high, strongly built, yet showing a good deal of blood, and its -coat was as soft and shining as satin. There was a good deal of red -dust about its feet and legs however, which showed that it had made a -somewhat long journey, but yet it displayed no signs of weariness, its -head had no drowsy droop, like that of a county member on the back -benches at three o'clock in the morning after a long debate. Oh no, -there was muscle and courage for forty miles more, had it been -necessary, and the noble beast would have done it right willingly. The -horseman rode him well--that is to say, lightly, and though he was -tall, muscular, and powerful in frame, many a man of less weight would -have wearied his horse much more. His hand was light and easy, his -seat was light and easy, and his very look was light and easy. There -was no black care sat behind that horseman, so that the burden was not -burdensome, and the pair went on together with alacrity and good -fellowship. The gentleman's dress was in very good taste, neither too -smart nor too plain, well fitted for a journey, yet not unfitted for a -drawing-room in the morning. This is enough upon that subject, and I -will not say another word about it, but as to his face, I must have a -word or two more--it was gay and good-humoured, and though it might be -called somewhat thoughtless in expression, yet somehow--I know not -very well from what cause--when one examined it one was convinced that -the thoughtless look was more a matter of habit than of nature. He was -dark in complexion, but with a healthy glow in his cheeks, and though -certainly his face was not as perfect as that of the Apollo of -Belvidere, yet few would have scrupled to pronounce him a good-looking -man. There was also an easy, almost careless swinging, rapid air about -him, which generally engages kindly feelings, if it cannot secure much -respect; and one could not watch him come cantering over the lea, with -his open, smiling face, without judging he would make an entertaining, -good-humoured companion, with whom any body might pass a few hours -very pleasantly. - -Thus he rode along, blithe as a lark, till the sun went down in glory, -showing at the distance of about a couple of miles, the spire of a -small church in a small town--or perhaps I had better call it a -village, for I am not sure that it had grown up to townhood in those -days. - -The hint I have given that he could see the spire of the church must -have shown the reader, that at the moment of the sun's setting he was -on the brow of a hill, for there are no plains in that part of the -country, and it was well wooded also. Down from the spot at which he -had then arrived, in a line very nearly direct towards the spire, -descended the road, crossing first a small patch of common, perhaps -not twenty acres in extent, and then entering between deep, shady -banks, as it went down the hill, not only arched over with shrubs, but -canopied by the branches of tall trees. There was quite sufficient -light in the sky to show him the entrance of this green avenue, and he -said to himself, as he looked on, "Wat a pretty approach to the -village; how peaceful and quiet every thing looks." - -He was not aware that he had work to do in that quiet road, nor that -it was to be of anything but a peaceful character, but so it is with -us in life, we never know what is before us at the next step. We may -scheme, and we may calculate; we may devise, and we may expect, but, -after all, we are but blind men, led we know not whither by a dog, and -the dog's name is, Fate. - -When he saw that he was so near the village, he slackened his pace, -and proceeded at a walk, wishing, like a wise and experienced -equestrian, to bring his horse in cool. At the first trees of the road -a deeper shade came into the twilight. About half a mile farther it -became quite dark under the boughs, whatever it might be in the open -fields; the darkness did not make him quicken his pace, but the minute -after he heard some sounds before him which did. It is not very easy -to explain what those sounds were, or by what process it was, that -striking upon the tympanum of his ear, the two or three air-waves -conveyed to his brain a notion that there were people in danger or -distress at no great distance. There was a word spoken in a sudden and -imperative tone, and that was the first sound he heard, and then there -was a voice of remonstrance and entreaty, a woman's voice, and then -something like a shriek, not loud and prolonged, but uttered as if the -person from whose lips it came caught it as it was issuing forth, and -strove to stifle it in the birth; some loud swearing and oaths were -next heard, mingled with the noise of quick footfalls, as if some one -were running fast towards the spot from the side of the village, and -the next moment the horseman perceived, at the first indistinctly, and -then clearly, a number of objects on the road before him, the largest, -if not the most important of which was a carriage. At the head of the -horses which had drawn it stood a man with something in his hand which -might be a pistol. At the side of the vehicle were two more, with a -saddled horse standing by, and they were apparently dragging out of -the carriage a lady who seemed very unwilling to come forth, but from -the other side was hurrying up, as hard as he could run, another -personage of very different appearance from the three other men. By -this time he was within ten yards of them, and our horseman, from his -elevation on his beast's back, could see the head and shoulders of him -who was approaching, and judged at once that he was a gentleman. - -I have said that under the trees it was quite dark, and yet that he -could see all this, but neither of these is a mistake, whatever the -reader may think, for just at that part of the highway where the -carriage stood, it was crossed by another road which let in all that -remained of the western light, and there the whole scene was before -his eyes, as a picture, even while he himself was in comparative -darkness. Impulse is an excellent thing, and a great deal more -frequently leads us right than reason, which in cases of emergency, is -a very unserviceable commodity. It is only necessary to have a clever -impulse, and things go wonderfully well. The horseman stuck his spurs -into his horse's sides: previously he had been going at a trot, since -the first sounds struck his ear, now it became a canter, and two or -three springs brought him up to the carriage. He was making straight -for the side, but the man who was at the horses' heads seemed to -regard his coming as unpleasant, and shouting to him in a thundering -voice to keep back, he presented a pistol straight at him with a -sharp, disagreeable, clicking sound, which, under various -circumstances, is peculiarly ungrateful to the human ear, especially -when the muzzle of the instrument is towards us, for there is no -knowing what may come out of the mouth at the next minute. But the -horseman was quick, active, and not accustomed to be daunted by a -little thing like a pistol, and therefore, holding his heavy -riding-whip by the wrong end, though in this instance it proved the -right one, he struck the personage opposite to him a thundering blow -over the arm. That limb instantly dropped powerless by his side, and -the pistol went off under the horse's feet, causing the animal to rear -a little, but hurting no one. In an instant the horse was turned, and -amongst the party by the carriage; but that party was by this time -increased in number, though not fortified by unanimity, for the person -who had been seen running up, was by this time engaged in fierce -struggle with one of the original possessors of the ground, while the -other kept a tight grasp upon the lady who had just been dragged out -of the carriage. With the two combatants our horseman thought it best -not to meddle in the first instance, though he saw that the object of -one of them was to get a pistol at the head of the other, who seemed -neither unwilling nor unable to prevent him from accomplishing that -object, but they were grappling so closely, that it was difficult to -strike one without hitting the other, especially in the twilight; and -therefore, before he interfered in their concerns, he bestowed another -blow, with the full sweep of his arm, upon the head of the man who was -holding the lady, and who seemed to take so deep an interest in what -was going on between the other two, as not to perceive that any one -was coming up behind him. He instantly staggered back, and would have -fallen, had not the wheel of the carriage stopped him, but then -turning fiercely round, he stretched out his arm, and a flash and -report followed, while a ball whistled past the horseman's cheek, went -through his hair, and grazed his hat. - -"Missed, on my life," cried the horseman; "take that for your pains, -you clumsy hound." And he again struck him, though, on this occasion -the person's head was defended by his arm. - -"H--l and d--n," cried the other, seizing his horse's bridle and -trying to force him back upon his haunches, but another blow, that -made him stagger again, showed him that the combat was not likely to -end in his favour, and darting past, he exclaimed, "Run, Wolf, run. -Harry is off!" And before our friend on the bay horse could strike -another blow at him, he had sprung upon the back of the beast that -stood near, and without waiting to put his feet into the stirrups, -galloped off as hard as he could go. In regard to the other two who -were wrestling, as we have said, in deadly strife, the game they were -playing had just reached a critical point, for the gentleman who had -come up, had contrived to get hold of the barrel of the pistol, and at -the very instant the other galloped away, the respectable person he -called Wolf received a straightforward blow in the face, which made -him stagger back, leaving his weapon in the hand of his opponent. -Finding that his only advantage was gone, he instantly darted round -the back of the carriage to make his escape up the other road. - -"Jump down and stop him, post-boy," cried the horseman, pursuing him -at the same time without a moment's pause, but the post-boy's legs, -though cased in leather, seemed to be made of wood, if one might judge -by the stiff slowness with which they moved, and before he had got his -feet to the ground, and his whip deliberately laid over the horse's -back, the fugitive finding that the horseman had cut him off from the -road, caught the stem of a young ash, swung himself up to the top of -the bank, and disappeared amongst the trees. - -"Hark, there is a carriage coming," said the horseman, addressing the -stranger, who had followed him as fast as two legs could follow four. -They both paused for an instant and listened, but to their surprise -the sound of rolling wheels, which they both distinctly heard, -diminished instead of increasing, and it became evident that some -vehicle was driving away from a spot at no great distance. - -"That's droll," said the horseman, dismounting; "but we had better see -after the ladies, for I dare say they are frightened." - -"No doubt they are," replied the other, in a mild and musical voice, -leading the way round the carriage again. "Do you know who they are?" - -"Not I," answered the horseman, "don't you?" - -"No, I am a stranger here," answered the other, approaching the side -of the carriage, to which the lady who had been dragged out had now -returned. - -She was seated with her hands over her eyes, as if either crying with -agitation or in deep thought; but the moment the gentleman who had -come up on foot addressed her, expressing a hope that she had not been -much alarmed, she replied, "Oh, yes, I could not help it, but my -mother has fainted. We must go back, I fear." - -"It is not far, I think, to the village, Madam," said our friend the -horseman, "and we will easily bring the lady to herself again; but it -is a pity she fainted too. These things will happen, and if they have -not got your money there is no great harm done." - -"I am better, Mary," said a voice from the other side of the carriage, -faint and low, yet sweet and harmonious. "Are they gone--are you quite -sure they are gone?" - -"Oh, dear, yes, Madam," replied the horseman, while the lady next him -laid her hand tenderly upon her mother's. "One of the worthies -scampered off on horseback after he had fired at me, and the other was -too quick for us all, thanks to your stiff-jointed driver. What became -of the other fellow I don't know." - -"You are not hurt, Sir, I hope," said the younger of the two ladies, -gazing timidly at him through the half light. - -"Not in the least," he replied. "The man missed me, though it wasn't a -bad shot after all, for I felt it go through my hair--but an inch one -side or the other makes a wonderful difference--and now, ladies, what -will you do?" - -A. murmured consultation took place between the two tenants of the -carriage, while a whispered conference was held by the gentlemen who -came to their assistance. It is wonderful how often in this world -several parties of the good folks of which it is composed, are all -thinking, ay, and even talking, of the same thing, without any one -group knowing what the other is about. - -"I'm doubtful of that post-boy," said the gentleman on foot to the -gentleman who had been on horseback. - -"Ay, and so am I," replied the other. "He's in league with them, -depend upon it. All post-boys are so. Their conscience is like the inn -leather breeches, wide enough to fit any thing. I wonder how far these -two ladies are going?" - -"I cannot tell," answered the other, "but it will be hardly safe for -them to go alone." - -"Can I speak to you, Sir, for a moment," said the voice of the younger -lady from the carriage, and the horseman advancing a step, leaned -against the doorway, and put his head partly in, bending down his ear, -as if he were perfectly certain that he was going to hear a secret. - -"My mother thinks, and so do I," continued the younger lady, "that the -man who drives us must have been bribed by those people who attacked -us, for he drove very slowly as soon as ever he came near this spot. -He stopped, too, the moment they called to him." - -"Perhaps not bribed, my dear Madam," replied the gentleman, "all these -post-boys, as they are called, favour your honest highwaymen, either -in hopes of a part of the booty, or merely out of fellow feeling. They -are every one of them amateurs, and some of them connoisseurs of the -arts of the road. You must have some protection, that's certain, and I -think it would be better for you to turn back and get some people from -the village to accompany the carriage." - -"I'm afraid that can hardly be," said the elder lady. "We are already -very late, and this has delayed us. My brother may be dead ere we -arrive, for I'm going on a sad errand, Sir, he having been suddenly -seized with gout in the stomach, and sent to call me to him in his -last moments; however, it is not very far, and I trust that nothing -more will happen." - -"No, no, Madam, you must not go without protection," replied the -gentleman in a good-humoured tone. "I will ride with you and see you -safe--how far is it?" - -"About five miles, I am afraid," answered the lady. - -"Oh, that's nothing, that's nothing," cried their companion. "It will -but make me an hour later at supper." And turning to the other -gentleman, he continued, "I wish, Sir, if you pass the inn called the -White Hart--" - -"I lodge there myself," returned the stranger. - -"Then pray tell the people there to have me a chicken ready in an -hour. It will be roasting while I am riding, so that will be one way -of killing time, and not losing patience." - -Thus saying, with a gay laugh, he sprang upon his horse's back, and -addressing the post-boy, exclaimed, while the other gentleman shut the -door, and bade the ladies adieu, "Now, boy, into the saddle, and -remember, if these ladies are interrupted again, the first head that -is broken shall be yours." - -The man made no reply, but got up with more alacrity than he had got -down, and was soon trotting along the road at a rapid rate. - -The horseman kept close to the carriage all the way, and after a ride -of about five-and-thirty minutes, through pleasant lanes and fields, -they came to what seemed the gates of a park, but the porter's lodge -was dim and unlighted, and the post-boy gave the horseman a -significant hint that he had better get down and open the gates, as -there was nobody there to do it for him. The gentleman, however, -managed the feat dexterously without dismounting, and the carriage -rolled through and entered a long avenue of magnificent chesnuts. -Between the boughs of the trees, every here and there, were to be seen -glimpses of soft green slopes, studded with wild hawthorns, and masses -of dark wood beyond, and at the end of about three quarters of a mile -more, appeared a fine old stone house, with a somewhat flat but -imposing-looking face, like that of an old country gentleman, with a -great idea of his own importance. - -As the horseman looked up to the house, however, which was raised upon -a little terrace, and approached by a gentle rise, he could not help -thinking, "That does not look very much like the dwelling of a man -dying of gout in the stomach; it looks more like that of one getting -up a good fit;" for three windows on the ground floor, having very -much of a dining-room aspect about them, were thrown up to admit the -air, and in addition to a blaze of light, there came forth the sounds -of merry laughter, and several persons talking. - -The post-boy drove up to the great door, however, and the horseman, -springing to the ground, rang the bell, after which, returning to the -side of the carriage, he leaned against it, saying, - -"I trust your relation is better, Madam, for the house does not seem -to be one of mourning." - -The lady did not reply directly to his words, but she said, "I hope if -you remain in this part of the country, Sir, you will give me an -opportunity of thanking you, either here, or at my own house, for the -great service you have rendered me. The people of the inn will direct -you, for it is only ten miles on the other side of Tarningham." - -"I shall certainly have the honour of waiting on you to inquire how -you do," replied the horseman, and then adding, "these people do not -seem inclined to come," he returned to the bell, and rang it -vigorously. - -The next moment the door was opened, and a capacious butler appeared, -and the stranger, without more ado, assisted the ladies to alight, -remarking as he did so, that the younger of the two was a very pretty -girl, some nineteen or twenty years of age. - -"How is my brother now?" demanded the elder lady, who wore a widow's -dress. - -"Quite well, Ma'am, thank you," answered the butler, in the most -commonplace tone possible, and before she had time to make any more -inquiries, the stranger who had come to her rescue, wished her and her -daughter good night, and mounting his horse, rode down the avenue -again. - - - - -CHAPTER II. -The Supper at the White Hart. - - -The White Hart of Tarningham was a neat little country inn, such as -was commonly found in most of the small towns of England at the period -of my tale. They are rapidly being brushed off the face of the earth -by the great broom of the steam-engine, and very soon the "pleasures -of an inn" will be no longer known but by the records of history, -while men run through the world at the rate of a hundred miles an -hour, finding nothing on their way but stations and "hotels." I hate -the very name hotel. It is unEnglish, uncomfortable, unsatisfactory, a -combination, I suppose, of host and hell, the one the recipient of -perturbed spirits, and the other their tormentor. But the word inn, -how comfortable it is in all its significations. We have only retained -the double _n_ in it that we may "wear our rue with a difference," and -whether we think of being _in_ place, or _in_ power, or _in_ the -hearts of those we love, or _in_ the house during a storm, how -pleasant is the feeling it produces. It has a home-like and British -sound, and I do with all my heart wish that my fellow-countrymen would -neither change their words nor their manners for worse things of -foreign parentage. An inn, in the days I speak of, was a place famous -for white linen, broiled ham, and fresh eggs. I cannot say that the -beefsteaks were always tender, or the veal cutlets always done to a -turn, or the beds always the softest in the world, but then think of -the white dimity curtains, and the casements that rattled just enough -to let you know that it was blowing hard without, and the rosy -apple-faced chambermaid, and the host himself, round as his own butts, -ay, and as full of beer. An innkeeper of those days would have been -ashamed to show himself under nineteen stone. He was a part of his own -sign, the recommendation of his own ale. His very paunch seemed to say -"Look what it has done for me." It entered into his fat, it flowed -through his veins, it puffed out his cheeks, it ran out at his eyes, -and malt and hops was heard in every accent of his tongue. You had no -lean, wizen-faced, black-silk-stockinged innkeepers in those days, and -the very aspiring waiters imitated their landlords, and hourly grew -fat under the eye, that they might be in a fit condition to marry the -widow and take the business when the poor dear gentleman was swallowed -up in beer. - -Such an inn was the White Hart at Tarningham, and such a host was the -landlord, but he was a wise man, and loved not to look upon his -successors, for which cause, as well as on account of the trade not -being very brisk in that quarter, he maintained no regular waiter; he -had a tapster it is true, but the cloth in the neat little parlour on -the left hand was laid by a white-capped, black-eyed, blooming -maid-servant, and the landlord himself prepared to carry in the first -dish, and then leave his expected guest to the tendance of the same -fair damsel. - -The room was already occupied by one gentleman, the same who in taking -his evening walk had joined with our friend the horseman in the rescue -of the two ladies, and to say truth, it was owing to his courtesy that -the cloth was laid there at all, for he had prior possession, and on -communicating to the landlord the fact that a guest would soon arrive -who proposed to sup upon roast chicken, the worthy host had exclaimed -in a voice of consternation, "Good gracious me, what shall I do? I -must turn those fellows out of the tap-room and serve it there, for -there is old Mrs. Grover, the lawyer's widow, in the other parlour, -and ne'er a sitting-room else in the house!" - -"You can make use of this, landlord," replied the stranger; "this -gentleman seems a very good-humoured person, and I do not think -will be inclined to find fault, although he may not have a whole -sitting-room to himself." - -"I'd bet a quart," cried the landlord, as if a sudden thought struck -him, "I'd bet a quart that it's the gentleman whose portmanteau and a -whole bundle of fishing-rods came down this morning. I'll run and see -what's the name." - -Whatever he felt, the gentleman already in possession expressed no -curiosity, but in two minutes the host rolled back again--for to run, -as he threatened, was impossible, and informed his guest that the -things were addressed to "Edward Hayward, Esq., to be left at the -White Hart, Tarningham." - -"Very well," said the guest, and without more ado, he took up a book -which had been lying on the mantelpiece since the morning, and putting -his feet upon another chair, began to read. The landlord bustled about -the room, and put the things in order. One of his fat sides knocked -his guest's chair, and he begged pardon, but the gentleman read on. He -took up the hat, which had been knocked off in the struggle with the -chaise, wiped off the red sand which it had gathered, and exclaimed, -"Lord bless me, Sir, your hat's all beaten about;" but his companion -merely gave a nod, and read on. - -At length, when the table was laid, and mustard, pepper, salt, -vinegar, and bread had been brought in severally, when the maid had -re-arranged what the landlord had arranged before, smoothed what he -had smoothed, and brushed what he had brushed, a horse's feet trotting -past the window, were heard, and the minute after a voice exclaimed at -the door of the inn, "Here, ostler, take my horse, loose the girths, -but don't take off the saddle yet, sponge his mouth, and walk him up -and down for five minutes. Has his clothing come?" - -"Oh, dear, yes, Sir, come this morning," answered the landlord. "This -way, Sir, if you please. Sorry you did not let me know before, for -positively there is not a whole sitting-room in the house." - -"Well, then, I will do with half of one," answered the stranger. "Why, -my friend, if you grow any more you must have the doors widened. You -are the man for defending a pass; for, upon my life, in default of -harder materials, you would block up Thermopylæ. Ale, ale, ale, it's -all ale, landlord, and if you don't mind, it will set you ailing. Have -my fishing-rods come down?--all safe I hope;" and by the time he had -run through these questions and observations, he was in the doorway of -the little parlour on the left-hand. He stared for a minute at the -previous tenant of the room, who rose to receive him with a smile, and -whose face he did not seem to have observed very accurately in the -semi-darkness of the road. But the height and general appearance of -the stranger soon showed him that they had met before, and with an -easy, good-humoured, dashing air, he went up and shook him by the -hand. - -"A strange means of making acquaintance, my dear Sir," he said, "but -I'm very happy to see you again, and safe and well, too, for I thought -at one time you were likely to get knocked on the head, and I scarcely -dared to interfere, lest I should do it for you myself in trying to -hit the other fellow. I hope you did not get any wounds or bruises in -the affray?" - -"Oh, no," replied the stranger; "I was nearly strangled that is -certain, and shall not easily forget the grasp of that man's fingers -on my throat; but in regard to this way of making an acquaintance, no -two men, I should think, could desire a better than to be both -engaged, even accidentally, in rescuing two ladies from wrong." - -"Quite chivalrous!" exclaimed the horseman, laughing; "but two Don -Quixotes would never do in the world, so I'll acknowledge, at once, -that I've not the least spark of chivalry in my nature. If I see a -strong thing hurting a weak thing, I knock the strong thing down of -course. I can't bear to see a big dog worry a little one, and don't -much like to see a terrier catch a rat. But it's all impulse, my dear -Sir, all impulse. Thank Heaven I am totally destitute of any sort of -enthusiasm. I like every thing in the world well enough, but do not -wish to like any thing too much, except, indeed, a particularly good -bottle of claret--there, there, I am afraid I am weak. As to helping -two ladies, it is always a very pleasant thing, especially if one of -them be a particularly pretty girl, as is the case in this instance, I -can tell you--but we really should do something to have these fellows -caught, for they might have the decency to wait till it is quite dark, -and not begin their lawless avocations before the sun has been down an -hour." - -"I went immediately to a magistrate," answered the stranger; "but as -in very many country places, I did not find the ornament of the bench -very highly enlightened. Because I was not the party actually -attacked, he demurred to taking any steps whatever, and though I shook -his resolution on that point, and he seemed inclined to accede to my -demand, yet as soon as he found that I could not even give him the -names of the two ladies, he went all the way back again, and would not -even take my deposition. Perhaps after supper we had better go to him -again together, for I dare say you can supply my deficiency by this -time, and tell him the name of your pretty lady and her mother." - -"No; 'pon my life I can't," rejoined his companion, "I quite forgot to -ask--a very beautiful girl, though, and I wonder I didn't inquire, for -I always like to ticket pretty faces. What is the name of your Midas, -we'll soon bring him to reason, I doubt not. A country magistrate not -take a deposition against a highwayman! By Heaven, he will make the -people think he goes shares in the booty." - -"A highwayman!" exclaimed the landlord, who had been going in and out, -and listening to all that was said, whether he had roast chicken, or -boiled potatoes, or a jug of fresh drawn beer in his hand. "Why, Lord, -Mr. Beauchamp, you never told me!" - -"No, my good friend," answered the other, "I did not, because to -spread such a tale through an inn, is the very best way I know of -insuring the highwayman's escape." - -"Well, I dare say, my good round friend," exclaimed the horseman, whom -we shall hereafter call Hayward, or as almost all who knew him, had -it, Ned Hayward, "I dare say you can help us to the names of these two -ladies. Who was it one of your post-boys drove to-night, out there to -the westward, to a house in a park?" - -"What, to Sir John Slingsby's?" exclaimed the host; but before he -could proceed to answer the more immediate question, Ned Hayward gave -himself a knock on the forehead, exclaiming, - -"Sir John Slingsby's! why that's the very house I'm going to, and I -never thought to ask the name--what a fool I am! Well might they call -me, when I was in the 40th, thoughtless Ned Hayward. But come, 'mine -host of the garter'--" - -"Of the White Hart, your honour," replied the landlord, with as low a -bow as his stomach would permit. - -"Ay, of the White Hart be it then," said Ned Hayward, "let us hear who -are these beautiful ladies whom your post-boy drove so slowly, and -stopped with so soon, at the bidding of three gentlemen of the road, -with pistols in their hands?" - -"Lord a mercy!" cried the host, "and was it Mrs. Clifford and her -daughter that they stopped? Well, I shouldn't wonder--but mum's the -word--it's no affair of mine, and the least said is soonest mended." - -The host's countenance had assumed a mysterious look. His whole aspect -had an air of mystery. He laid his finger upon the side of his nose, -as men do for a practical exemplification of the process which is -taking place in their mind when they are putting "that and that" -together. He half closed one eye also, as if to give an indication to -the beholders that whatever might be the mental light in his own -brain, it should not escape for the illumination of those without. -There is a perversity in human nature which makes all men--saving the -exceptions that prove the general rule--anxious to discover any thing -that is hidden, and consequently both Mr. Hayward and Mr. Beauchamp -attacked the worthy landlord, _totis viribus_, and attempted to wrench -from him his secret. He held it fast, however, with both hands, -exclaiming, - -"No, no, gentlemen, I'll not say a word--it's no business of -mine--I've nothing to do with it--it's all guess work, and a man who -beers and horses all the neighbourhood, must keep a good tongue in his -head. But one thing I will say, just to give you two gentlemen a hint, -that perhaps you had better not meddle in this matter, or you may make -a mess of it. Sally, is not that chicken ready?" And he called from -the door of the room to the bar. - -"I certainly shall meddle with it, my good friend," said Ned Hayward, -in a determined tone, "and that very soon. I'm not the least afraid of -making a mess, as you call it, certain that none of it will fall upon -myself. So, as soon as we have got supper, which seems a devilish long -time coming, we will set off, Mr. Beauchamp, if you please, for this -good magistrate's and try--" - -He was interrupted in the midst of his speech, though it had by this -time nearly come to a conclusion, by a voice in the passage, -exclaiming, "Groomber, Mr. Groomber," and the host instantly -vociferated, "Coming, Sir, coming," and rushed out of the room. - -The voice was heard to demand, as soon as the landlord appeared -blocking up the way, "Have you a person by the name of Beauchamp -here?" - -"Yes, your worship," replied the host, and after a few more words, in -a lower tone, the door of the room was thrown open, and Mr. Wittingham -was announced, just as Mr. Beauchamp was observing to his new-found -friend, Ned Hayward, that the voice was very like that of the worthy -magistrate to whom he had applied. - -Mr. Wittingham was a tall and very respectable-looking gentleman, -somewhat past the middle age, and verging towards that decline of life -which is marked by protuberance of the stomach, and thinness of the -legs. But, nevertheless, Mr. Wittingham carried it off very well, for -his height diminished the appearance of that which is usually called a -corporation, and his legs were skilfully concealed in his top-boots. -He was exceedingly neat in his apparel, tolerably rosy in the gills, -and having a certain dogmatical peremptory expression, especially -about the thick eyebrows and hooknose, which he found wonderfully -efficacious in the decision of cases at petty sessions. - -The moment he entered the room, he fixed his eyes somewhat sternly -upon Mr. Beauchamp (whom we have forgotten to describe as a very -gentlemanlike--even distinguished-looking person of about thirty -years of age), and addressing him in a rough, and rather uncivil tone, -said, "Your name, I think you told me, is Beauchamp, Sir, and you came -to lay an information before me against certain persons for stopping a -chaise upon the king's highway." - -"I am, as you say, Sir, called Beauchamp," replied the other -gentleman, "and I waited upon you, as the nearest magistrate, to give -information of a crime which had been committed in your neighbourhood -which you refused to receive. Do me the honour of taking a seat." - -"And pray, Sir, if I may be so bold as to ask, who and what are you?" -inquired the magistrate, suffering himself to drop heavily into a -chair. - -"I should conceive that had very little to do with the matter," -interposed Ned Hayward, before Mr. Beauchamp could answer. "The simple -question is, whether an attempt at highway robbery, or perhaps a worse -offence, has or has not been made this night, upon Mrs. and Miss -Clifford, as they were going over to my friend Sir John Slingsby's; -and allow me to say that any magistrate who refuses to take a -deposition on such a subject, and to employ the best means at his -command to apprehend the offenders, grossly neglects his duty." - -The host brought in the roast fowl, and stared at the dashing tone of -Ned Hayward's speech towards one of the magnates of the neighbourhood. -Some words in the commencement of that speech had caused Mr. -Wittingham's countenance to fall, but the attack upon himself in the -conclusion, roused him to indignant resistance, so that his reply was -an angry demand of "Who the devil are you, Sir?" - -"I am the devil of nobody, Mr. Wittington," answered Ned Hayward. "I -am my own devil, if any body's, and my name is Edward Hayward, -commonly called Captain Hayward, late of the 40th regiment, and now -unattached. But as my supper is ready, I will beg leave to eat my -chicken hot. Beauchamp, won't you join? Mr. Wittington, shall I give -you a wing? Odd name, Wittington. Descendant of the renowned Lord -Mayor of London, I presume?" - -"No, Sir, no," answered the magistrate, while Beauchamp could scarcely -refrain from laughing. "What I want to know is, what you have to do -with this affair?" - -"Every thing in the world," answered Ned Hayward, carving the chicken, -"as I and my friend Beauchamp here had equal shares in saving the -ladies from the clutches of these vagabonds. He came back here to give -information, while I rode on with the ladies to protect them. Bring me -a bottle of your best sherry, landlord. Now, I'll tell you what, Mr. -Wittington--haven't you got any ham that you could broil? I hate -chicken without ham, it's as insipid as a country magistrate.--I'll -tell you what, Mr. Wittington, this matter shall be investigated to -the bottom, whether you like it or not, and I have taken care to leave -such marks upon two of the vagabonds, that they'll be easily known for -the next month to come. One of them is devilish like you, by the way, -but younger. I hit him just over the eye, and down about the nose, so -that I'll answer for it I have lettered him in black and blue as well -as any sheep in your fields, and we'll catch him before we've done, -though we must insist upon having the assistance of the justices." - -"I think, Sir, you intend to insult me," said the magistrate, rising -with a very angry air, and a blank and embarrassed countenance. - -"Not a whit, my dear Sir," answered Ned Hayward. "Pray sit down and -take a glass of wine." - -"I wont, Sir," exclaimed Mr. Wittingham, "and I shall leave the room. -If you have any thing to say to me, it must come before me in a formal -manner, and at a proper hour. To-morrow I shall be at the justice-room -till eleven, and I hope you will be then prepared to treat the bench -with respect." - -"The most profound, Sir," said Ned Hayward, rising and bowing till his -face almost touched the table before him, and then as Mr. Wittingham -walked away with an indignant toss of the head, and closed the door -behind him, our gay friend turned to his companion, saying, "There's -something under this, Beauchamp. We must find out what it is." - - - - -CHAPTER III. -The Father and the Son. - - -I Will have nothing to do with antecedents. The reader must find them -out if he can, as the book must explain what precedes the book. - -The past is a tomb. There let events, as well as men, sleep in peace. -Fate befal him who disturbs them; and indeed were there not even a -sort of profanation in raking up things done as well as in troubling -the ashes of the dead, what does man obtain by breaking into the grave -of the past? Nothing but dry bones, denuded of all that made the -living act interesting. History is but a great museum of osteology, -where the skeletons of great deeds are preserved without the -muscles--here a tall fact and there a short one; some sadly -dismembered, and all crumbling with age, and covered with dust and -cobwebs. Take up a skull, chapfallen as Yorick's. See how it grins at -you with its lank jaws and gumless teeth. See how the vacant sockets -of the eyes glare meaningless, and the brow, where high intelligence -sat throned, commanding veneration, looks little wiser than a dried -pumpkin. And thus--even thus, as insignificant of the living deeds -that have been, are the dry bones of history, needing the inductive -imagination of a Cuvier to clothe them again with the forms that once -they wore. - -No, no, I will have nothing to do with antecedents. They were past -before the Tale began, and let them rest. - -Nevertheless, it is always well worth while, in order to avoid any -long journeys back, to keep every part of the story going at once, and -manfully to resist both our own inclination and the reader's, to -follow any particular character, or class of characters, or series of -events. Rather let us, going from scene to scene, and person to -person, as often as it may be necessary, bring them up from the rear. -It is likewise well worth while to pursue the career of such new -character that may be introduced, till those who are newly made -acquainted with him, have discovered a sufficient portion of his -peculiarities. - -I shall therefore beg leave to follow Mr. Wittingham on his way -homeward; but first I will ask the reader to remark him as he pauses -for a moment at the inn-door, with worthy Mr. Groomber a step behind. -See how the excellent magistrate rubs the little vacant spot between -the ear and the wig with the fore-finger of the right-hand, as if he -were a man amazingly puzzled, and then turns his head over his -shoulder to inquire of the landlord if he knows who the two guests -are, without obtaining any further information than that one of them -had been for some weeks in the house--which Mr. Wittingham well knew -before, he having the organ of Observation strongly developed--and -that the other had just arrived; a fact which was also within the -worthy magistrate's previous cognizance. - -Mr. Wittingham rubs the organ above the ear again, gets the finger up -to Ideality, and rubs that, then round to Cautiousness, and having -slightly excited it with the extreme point of the index of the -right-hand, pauses there, as if afraid of stimulating it too strongly, -and unmanning his greater purposes. But it is a ticklish organ, soon -called into action, in some men, and see how easily Mr. Wittingham has -brought its functions into operation. He buttons his coat up to the -chin as if it were winter, and yet it is as mild an evening as one -could wish to take a walk in by the side of a clear stream, with the -fair moon for a companion, or something fairer still. It is evident -that Cautiousness is at work at a terrible rate, otherwise he would -never think of buttoning up his coat on such a night as that; and now -without another word to the landlord, he crosses the street, and bends -his steps homeward with a slow, thoughtful, vacillating step, -murmuring to himself two or three words which our friend Ned Hayward -had pronounced, as if they contained some spell which forced his -tongue to their repetition. - -"Very like me," he said, "very like me? Hang the fellow! Very like me! -Why, what the devil--he can't mean to accuse me of robbing the -carriage. Very like me! Then, as the mischief must have it, that it -should be Mrs. Clifford too! I shall have roystering Sir John upon my -back--'pon my life, I do not know what to do. Perhaps it would be -better to be civil to these two young fellows, and ask them to dinner; -though I do not half like that Beauchamp--I always thought there was -something suspicious about him with his grave look, and his long -solitary walks, nobody knowing him, and he knowing nobody. Yet this -Captain Hayward seems a great friend of his, and he is a friend of Sir -John's--so he must be somebody--I wonder who the devil he is? -Beauchamp?--Beauchamp? I shouldn't wonder if he were some man -rusticated from Oxford. I'll write and ask Henry. He can most likely -tell." - -The distance which Mr. Wittingham had to go was by no means great, for -the little town contained only three streets--one long one, and two -others leading out of it. In one of the latter, or rather at the end -of one of the latter, for it verged upon the open country beyond the -town, was a large house, his own particular dwelling, built upon the -rise of the hill, with large gardens and pleasure-grounds surrounding -it, a new, well-constructed, neatly pointed, brick wall, two green -gates, and sundry conservatories. It had altogether an air of -freshness and comfort about it which was certainly pleasant to look -upon; but it had nothing venerable. It spoke of fortunes lately made, -and riches fully enjoyed, because they had not always been possessed. -It was too neat to be picturesque, too smart to be in good taste. I -was a bit of Clapham or Tooting transported a hundred or two miles -into the country--very suburban indeed! - -And yet it is possible that Mr. Wittingham had never seen Clapham in -his life, or Tooting either; for he had been born in the town where he -now lived, had accumulated wealth, as a merchant on a small scale, in -a sea-port town about fifty miles distant; had improved considerably, -by perseverance, a very limited stock of abilities; and, having done -all this in a short time, had returned at the age of fifty, to enact -the country gentleman in his native place. With the ordinary ambition -of low minds, however, he wished much that his origin, and the means -of his rise should be forgotten by those who knew them, concealed from -those who did not; and therefore he dressed like a country gentleman, -spoke like a country gentleman, hunted with the fox-hounds, and added -"J. P." to his "Esquire." - -Nevertheless, do what he would, there was something of his former -calling that still remained about him. It is a dirty world this we -live in, and every thing has its stain. A door is never painted five -minutes, but some indelible finger-mark is printed on it; a table is -never polished half an hour, but some drop of water falls and spots -it. Give either precisely the same colour again, if you can! Each -trade, each profession, from the shopkeeper to the prime minister, -marks its man more or less for life, and I am not quite sure that the -stamp of one is much fouler than that of another. There is great -vulgarity in all pride, and most of all in official pride, and the -difference between that vulgarity, and the vulgarity of inferior -education is not in favour of the former; for it affects the mind, -while the other principally affects the manner. - -Heaven and earth, what a ramble I have taken! but I will go back again -gently by a path across the fields. Something of the merchant, the -small merchant, still hung about Mr. Wittingham. It was not alone that -he kept all his books by double entry, and even in his magisterial -capacity, when dealing with rogues and vagabonds, had a sort of debtor -and creditor account with them, very curious in its items; neither was -it altogether that he had a vast idea of the importance of wealth, and -looked upon a good banker's book, with heavy balance in favour, as the -chief of the cardinal virtues; but there were various peculiarities of -manner and small traits of character, which displayed the habit of -mind to inquiring eyes very remarkably. His figures of speech, -whenever he forgot himself for a moment were all of the -counting-house: when on the bench he did not know what to do with his -legs for want of a high stool; but the trait with which we have most -to do was a certain propensity to inquire into the solidity and -monetary respectability of all men, whether they came into -relationship with himself or not. He looked upon them all as "Firms," -with whom at some time he might have to transact business; and I much -doubt whether he did not mentally put "and Co.," to the name of every -one of his acquaintances. Now Beauchamp and Co. puzzled him; he -doubted that the house was firm; he could make nothing out of their -affairs; he had not, since Mr. Beauchamp first appeared in the place, -been able even to get a glimpse of their transactions; and though it -was but a short distance, as I have said, from the inn to his own -dwelling, before he had reached the latter, he had asked himself at -least twenty times, "Who and what Mr. Beauchamp could be?" - -"I should like to look at his ledger," said Mr. Wittingham to himself -at length, as he opened his gate and went in; but there was a book -open for Mr. Wittingham in his own house, which was not likely to show -a very favourable account. - -Although the door of Mr. Wittingham's house, which was a glass door, -stood confidingly unlocked as long as the sun was above the horizon, -yet Mr. Wittingham had always a pass-key in his pocket, and when the -first marble step leading from the gravel walk up to the entrance was -found, the worthy magistrate's hand was always applied to an aperture -in his upper garment just upon the haunch, from which the key was sure -to issue forth, whether the door was open or not. - -The door, however, was now shut, and the pass-key proved serviceable; -but no sooner did Mr. Wittingham stand in the passage of his own -mansion than he stopped short in breathless and powerless -astonishment; for there before him stood two figures in close -confabulation, which he certainly did not expect to see in that place, -at that time, in such near proximity. - -The one was that of a woman, perhaps fifty-five years of age, but who -looked still older from the fact of being dressed in the mode of -thirty years before. Her garments might be those of an upper servant, -and indeed they were so; for the personage was neither more nor less -than the housekeeper; but to all appearance she was a resuscitated -housekeeper of a former age; for the gown padded in a long roll just -under the blade-bones, the straight cut bodice, the tall but -flat-crowned and wide-spreading cap, were not of the day in which she -lived, and her face too was as dry as the outer shell of a cocoa-nut. -The other figure had the back turned to the door, and was evidently -speaking earnestly to Mrs. Billiter; but it was that of a man, tall, -and though stiffly made, yet sinewy and strong. - -Mr. Wittingham's breath came thick and short, but the noise of his -suddenly opening the door, and his step in the hall, made the -housekeeper utter a low cry of surprise, and her male companion turn -quickly round. Then Mr. Wittingham's worst apprehensions were -realised, for the face he saw before him was that of his own son, -though somewhat disfigured by an eye swollen and discoloured, and a -deep long cut just over it on the brow. - -The young man seemed surprised and confounded by the unexpected -apparition of his father, but it was too late to shirk the encounter, -though he well knew it would not be a pleasant one. He was accustomed, -too, to scenes of altercation with his parent, for Mr. Wittingham had -not proceeded wisely with his son, who was a mere boy when he himself -retired from business. He had not only alternately indulged him and -thwarted him; encouraged him to spend money largely, and to dazzle the -eyes of the neighbours by expense, at the same time limiting his means -and exacting a rigid account of his payments; but as the young man had -grown up he had continued sometimes to treat him as a boy, sometimes -as a man; and while he more than connived at his emulating the great -in those pleasures which approach vices, he denied him the sums by -which such a course could alone be carried out. - -Thus a disposition, naturally vehement and passionate, had been -rendered irritable and reckless, and a character self-willed and -perverse had become obstinate and disobedient. Dispute after dispute -arose between father and son after the spoilt boy became the daring -and violent youth, till at length Mr. Wittingham, for the threefold -purpose of putting him under some sort of discipline, of removing him -from bad associates, and giving him the tone of a gentleman, had sent -him to Oxford. One year had passed over well enough, but at the -commencement of the second year, Mr. Wittingham found that his -notions of proper economy were very different from his son's, and that -Oxford was not likely to reconcile the difference. He heard of him -horse-racing, driving stagecoaches, betting on pugilists, gambling, -drinking, getting deeper and deeper in debt; and his letters of -remonstrance were either not answered at all, or answered with -contempt. - -A time had come, however, when the absolute necessity of recruiting -his finances from his father's purse had reduced the youth to promises -of amendment and a feigned repentance; and just at the time our tale -opens, the worthy magistrate was rocking himself in the cradle of -delusive expectations, and laying out many a plan for the future life -of his reformed son, when suddenly as we have seen, he found him -standing talking to the housekeeper in his own hall with the marks of -a recent scuffle very visible on his face. - -The consternation of Mr. Wittingham was terrible; for though by no -means a man of ready combinations in any other matter than pounds, -shillings and pence, his fancy was not so slow a beast as to fail in -joining together the description which Ned Hayward had given of the -marks he had set upon one of the worthy gentlemen who had been found -attacking Mrs. Clifford's carriage, and the cuts and bruises upon the -fair face of his gentle offspring. He had also various private reasons -of his own for supposing that such an enterprise as that which had -been interrupted in Tarningham-lane, as the place was called, might -very well come within the sphere of his son's energies, and for a -moment he gave himself up to a sort of apathetic despair, seeing all -his fond hopes of rustic rule and provincial importance dashed to the -ground by the conduct of his own child. - -It was reserved for that child to rouse him from his stupor, however; -for, though undoubtedly the apparition of his father was any thing but -pleasant to Henry Wittingham, at that particular moment, when he was -arranging with the housekeeper (who had aided to spoil him with all -her energies) that he was to have secret board and lodging in the -house for a couple of days, without his parent's knowledge, yet his -was a bold spirit, not easily cowed, and much accustomed to outface -circumstances however disagreeable they might be. Marching straight up -to his father then, without a blush, as soon as he had recovered from -the first surprise, he said, "So, you see I have come back, Sir, for a -day or two to worship my household gods, as we say at Oxford, and to -get a little more money; for you did not send me enough. However, it -may be as well, for various reasons, not to let people know that I am -here. Our old dons do not like us to be absent without leave, and may -think that I ought to have notified to them my intention of giving you -such an agreeable surprise." - -Such overpowering impudence was too much for Mr. Wittingham's -patience, the stock of which was somewhat restricted; and he first -swore a loud and very unmagisterial oath; then, however, recollecting -himself, without abating one particle of his wrath, he said in a stern -tone, and with a frowning brow, "Be so good as to walk into that room -for five minutes, Sir." - -"Lord, Sir, don't be angry," exclaimed the housekeeper, who did not at -all like the look of her master's face, "it is only a frolic, Sir." - -"Hold your tongue, Billiter! you are a fool," thundered Mr. -Wittingham. "Walk in there, Sir, and you shall soon hear my mind as to -your frolics." - -"Oh, certainly, I will walk in," replied his son, not appearing in the -least alarmed, though there was something in the expression of his -father's countenance that did frighten him a little, because he had -never seen that something before--something difficult to describe--a -struggle as it were with himself, which showed the anger he felt to be -more profound than he thought it right to show all at once. "I -certainly will walk in and take a cup of tea if you will give me one," -and as he spoke he passed the door into the library. - -"You will neither eat nor drink in this house more, till your conduct -is wholly changed, Sir," said Mr. Wittingham, shutting the door behind -him, "the books are closed, Sir--there is a large balance against you, -and that must be liquidated before they can be opened again. What -brought you here?" - -"What I have said," answered the young man, beginning to feel that his -situation was not a very good one, but still keeping up his affected -composure, "the yearnings of filial affection and a lack of -pocket-money." - -"So, you can lie too, to your father," said Mr. Wittingham, bitterly. -"You will find that I can tell the truth however, and to begin, I will -inform you of what brought you hither--but no, it would take too much -time to do that; for the sooner you are gone the better for yourself -and all concerned--you must go, Sir, I tell you--you must go -directly." - -A hesitation had come upon Mr. Wittingham while he spoke; his voice -shook, his lip quivered, his tall frame was terribly agitated; and his -son attributed all these external signs of emotion to a very different -cause from the real one. He thought he saw in them the symptoms of a -relenting parent, or at least of an irresolute one, and he prepared to -act accordingly; while his father thought of nothing but the danger of -having him found in his house, after the commission of such an outrage -as that which he had perpetrated that night; but the very thought made -him tremble in every limb--not so much for his son indeed, as for -himself. - -"I beg pardon, my dear Sir," replied the young man, recovering all his -own impudence at the sight of his father's agitation; "but it would -not be quite convenient for me to go to-night. It is late, I am tired; -my purse is very empty." - -"Pray how did you get that cut upon your head?" demanded the -magistrate, abruptly. - -"Oh, a little accident," replied his son; "it is a mere -scratch--nothing at all." - -"It looks very much like a blow from the butt-end of a heavy -horsewhip," said his father, sternly; "just such as a man who had -stopped two ladies in a carriage, might receive from a strong arm come -to their rescue. You do not propose to go then? Well, if that be the -case, I must send for the constable and give you into his hands, for -there is an information laid against you for felony, and witnesses -ready to swear to your person. Shall I ring the bell, or do you go?" - -The young man's face had turned deadly pale, and he crushed the two -sides of his hat together between his hands. He uttered but one word, -however, and that was, "Money." - -"Not a penny," answered Mr. Wittingham, turning his shoulder, "not one -penny, you have had too much already--you would make me bankrupt and -yourself too." The next moment, however, he continued, "Stay; on one -condition, I will give you twenty pounds." - -"What is it?" asked the son, eagerly, but somewhat fiercely too, for -he suspected that the condition would be hard. - -"It is that you instantly go back to Oxford, and swear by all you hold -sacred--if you hold any thing sacred at all--not to quit it for twelve -months, or till Mary Clifford is married." - -"You ask what I cannot do," said the son, in a tone of deep and bitter -despondency, contrasting strangely with that which he had previously -used; "I cannot go back to Oxford. You must know all in time, and may -as well know it now--I am expelled from Oxford; and you had your share -in it, for had you sent me what I asked, I should not have been driven -to do what I have done. I cannot go back; and as to abandoning my -pursuit of Mary Clifford, I will not do that either. I love her, and -she shall be mine, sooner or later, let who will say no." - -"Expelled from Oxford!" cried Mr. Wittingham, with his eyes almost -starting from their sockets. "Get out of my sight, and out of my -house; go where you will---do what you will--you are no son of mine -any more. Away with you, or I will myself give you into custody, and -sign the warrant for your committal. Not a word more, Sir, begone; you -may take your clothes, if you will, but let me see no more of you. I -cast you off; begone, I say." - -"I go," answered his son, "but one day you will repent of this, and -wish me back, when perhaps you will not be able to find me." - -"No fear of that," answered Mr. Wittingham, "if you do not return till -I seek you, the house will be long free from your presence. Away with -you at once, and no more words." - -Without reply, Henry Wittingham quitted the room, and hurried up to -the bed-chamber, which he inhabited when he was at home, opened -several drawers, and took out various articles of dress, and some -valuable trinkets--a gold chain, a diamond brooch, two or three -jewelled pins and rings. He lingered a little, perhaps fancying that -his father might relent, perhaps calculating what his own conduct -should be when he was summoned back to the library. But when he had -been about five minutes in his chamber, there was a tap at the door; -and the housekeeper came in. - -"It is no use, Billiter," said the young man, "I am going. My father -has treated me shamefully." - -"It is no use indeed, Master Harry," replied the good woman, "he is as -hard as stone. I have said every thing he would let me say, but he -drove me out of the room like a wild beast. But don't give it up, -Master Harry. Go away for a day or two to Burton's Inn, by -Chandleigh--he'll come round in time, and you can very well spend a -week or so there, and be very comfortable." - -"But money, Billiter, money!" exclaimed the young man, whose heart had -sunk again to find that all his expectations of his father's -resolution giving way were vain. "What shall I do for money?" - -"Stay a bit, stay a bit," said the good woman; "what I have got you -may have, Master Harry, as welcome as the flowers in May. I've ten -pounds here in this little purse;" and she dived into one of the large -pockets that hung outside of her capacious petticoat, producing a very -dirty, old knitted purse with a steel clasp, and adding, as she put it -in her young master's hand, "It is a pity now that Mr. Wittingham -wheedled me into putting all the rest of my earnings into the -Tarningham bank, where he has a share---but that will do for the -present, if you are careful, Master Harry--but don't go to drink -claret and such expensive nasty stuff, there's a good boy." - -"That I won't, Billiter," answered Henry Wittingham, pocketing the -money without remorse of conscience, "and I will repay you when I -can--some day or another I shall certainly be able, for the houses at -Exmouth are settled upon me;" and packing up all that he thought fit -to take in a large silk-handkerchief, he opened the door again, and -began to descend the stairs. A chilly sensation crept over him ere he -reached the bottom, as memory brought back happy days, and he thought -that he was going forth from the home of his youth, perhaps for ever, -that he was an exile from his father's dwelling, from his love, an -outcast, a wanderer, with nothing but his own wayward spirit for his -guide--nought but his own pride for his support. He was not yet -sufficiently hardened to bear the shadow of his exile lightly, to look -upon it as a relief from restraint, a mere joyous adventure which -would have its interest during its progress, and would soon be over. -But, nevertheless, his pride was strong, and as yet unchecked; and -when the thought of going back to his father, asking his forgiveness, -and promising all that he required, crossed his mind, he cast it from -him with disdain, saying, "Never! never! He shall ask me humbly -first." And, with this very lowly determination, he walked out of the -house. - -"I shall be able to hear of you at Burton's, by Chandleigh," said the -housekeeper, as he stood on the top step. - -"Yes, yes, you will hear of me there," he replied, and descending the -steps, he was soon wandering in darkness amongst parterres, every step -of the way being as familiar to him as his father's library. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. -The Post-boy and the Pot-boy. - - -After a few words of common observation upon Mr. Wittingham and his -proceedings when that excellent gentleman had left the room at the -little inn of Tarningham, Ned Hayward fell into a very unusual fit of -thought. - -I do not mean in the least to say that it was unusual for Ned Hayward -to think, for probably he thought as much as other men, but there are -various ways of thinking. There are pondering, meditating, brown -studying, day dreaming, revolving, considering, contemplating, and -though many of these terms may at first sight seem synonymous, yet -upon close examination it will be found that there are shades of -difference between the meanings. Besides these ways or modes of -thinking, there are various other mental processes, such as -investigating, examining, disentangling, inquiring, but with these I -will not meddle, as my business is merely with the various operations -of the mind which require various degrees of rapidity. Now though Ned -Hayward, as I have said, probably thought as much as other men, his -sort of thought was generally of a very quick and active habit. He was -not fond of meditating, his mind's slowest pace was a canter, and when -he found an obstacle of any kind, hedge, gate, fence, or stone wall, -he took up his stirrups and went over it. Now, however, for once in -his life, he paused and pondered for full five minutes, and then -thinking perhaps it might seem a little rude if he treated his -new-found friend to nothing but meditation, he began to talk of other -things, still meditating over the former subject of his contemplations -all the while. - -It must not be supposed, however, that he did not think of what he was -saying. Such a supposition might indeed be founded upon the old axiom -that men cannot do two things at once. But the axiom is false: there -never was a falser. We are always doing many things at once. There -would be very little use of our having hands and feet, tongues and -eyes, ears and nose, unless each of our organs with a little practice -could go on quite quietly in its little workshop, without disturbing -the others. Indeed it is very serviceable sometimes to give our more -volatile members something light to do, when we are employing others -upon more serious business, just to keep them out of the way, as we do -with noisy children. So also is it with the mind and its faculties, -and it is not only quite possible, depend upon it, dear reader, to -think of two subjects at once, but very common also. - -Totally unacquainted with Mr. Beauchamp's habits and character, or -what topics he could converse upon, and what not, Ned Hayward -naturally chose one which seemed perfectly indifferent and perfectly -easy; but it led them soon to deeper considerations, as a very small -key will often open a very large door. It led to some political -discussions too; but let it be remarked, this is not a political -novel, that most wearisome and useless of all the illegitimate -offsprings of literature, and therefore if I give a few sentences of -their conversation, it is not to insinuate sneakingly my own opinions, -but merely to display my characters more fully. - -"This seems a very pretty little town," said Ned Hayward, choosing the -first free subject at hand; "quite rural, and with all the -tranquillity of the country about it." - -"It is indeed," answered Mr. Beauchamp; "but I should almost have -supposed that a gayer place would have pleased you more. Were you -never here before?" - -"Never in my life," replied his companion; "but you are quite mistaken -about my tastes. London, indeed, is a very pleasant place for three -months or so; but one soon gets tired of it. It gets slow, devilish -slow after a while. One cannot go to the theatre every night. There is -little use of going to balls and parties, and risking falling in love -if one has not got money enough to marry. One gets weary of the faces -and the houses in St. James's-street. Morning visits are the greatest -bores in the world. Epsom and Ascot are good enough things in their -way, but they are soon over for one who does not bet and runs no -horses. The newspapers tire me to death--romances I abominate; and -though a good opera comes in twice a-week to lighten the load a -little, it gets desperate heavy on one's shoulders before the first of -July. Antiquaries, connoisseurs, lawyers, physicians, fiddlers, and -portrait-painters, with merchants, and all the bees of the hive, may -find London a very pleasant and profitable place. I am nothing but a -drone, and so I fly away in the country. Of all towns after the second -month, I hate London the most--except a manufacturing town indeed, and -that is always horrible, even to change horses in." - -"And yet perhaps," answered Beauchamp, "a manufacturing town -offers subjects of deeper interest than any other spot of the -earth--especially at the present moment." - -"Not in themselves, surely," said Ned Hayward; "the abstract idea of -broad cloth is to me very flat, cotton-spinning not particularly -exciting, iron ware is far too hard for me to handle, and as for the -production of soda and pearlash, I have no genius that way. But I -suppose," he continued, "you mean that the manufacturing towns are -interesting from their bearing upon the prosperity of the country; but -in that case it is your speculations regarding them that interest you, -not the places themselves." - -"So it is with everything," answered Mr. Beauchamp; "no single image -or impression gives us great pleasure. It is in their combination that -our engagement dwells. Single ideas are but straight lines, blank -plains, monotonous patches of colour. Associate them with other shapes -and hues, and you produce beauty and pleasure. Thus with the -manufacturing towns; if I only went to see a steam-engine work, a -shuttle play, or a spindle turn, I should soon be tired enough; but -when in all that I see there, I perceive a new development of man's -mind, a fresh course opened for his energies when old ones are -exhausted, when I behold the commencement of a great social change, -which shall convert the pursuits of tribes and nations from -agricultural to manufacturing--we rather shall throw the great mass of -human industry, for which its former sphere was too small, into -another and almost interminable channel, I feel that I am a spectator -of a great social phenomenon, as awful and as grand as the lightning -that rends the pine, or the earthquake that overthrows the mountain. -It is magnificent, yet terrible; beautiful, but still sad." - -"Why sad?" demanded Ned Hayward. "I have considered the matter in the -same light a little, and have talked with various grave manufacturers -about it; but they all seem to see nothing in it but what is very fine -and pleasant. They have no apprehension for the result, or doubts -about its doing a great deal of good to every body in the end." - -"The end!" said Beauchamp, "where is the end? What will the end be? -They see nothing but good; they augur nothing but good, because they -are actively employed in that one particular course, and buoyed up -with those sanguine expectations which active exertion always -produces. Neither do I doubt that the end will be good; but still ere -that end be reached, how much misery, how much strife, how much evil, -must be encountered. One needs but to set one's foot in a factory, ay, -or in a manufacturing town, to see that the evil not only will be, but -is; that we are wading into a dark stream which we must pass over, and -are already knee deep. I speak not of the evils inseparable from the -working of any great change in the relations of society or in its -objects. As we can never climb a hill without some fatigue, so we can -never reach a higher point in social advance without some suffering, -but that inevitable evil I look upon as light, compared with many -other things before us. I doubt not that in God's good providence new -resources will be ever opened before mankind for the employment of -human industry; but when I see even a temporary superfluity of labour, -I tremble to think of what vast power of grinding and oppressing that -very circumstance places in the hands of the employer. Combine that -power with the state of men's minds at present, and all the tendencies -of the age; remember that to accumulate wealth, to rival others in -luxury and display, to acquire at any price and by any means, is a -part not of the manufacturer's spirit, but of the spirit of the age, -and especially of this country, and then see to what purposes must and -will be applied that vast authority or command, which the existing -superabundance of labour, brought about by mechanical inventions and -the natural increase of population entrusts to those who have already -the power of wealth. Were it not for this spirit acting through this -power, should we see in our manufactories such squalid misery, such -enfeebled frames, such overtasked exertions, such want of moral and -religious culture, such recklessness, such vice, such infamy, such -famine?" - -"Perhaps not," answered Ned Hayward, "but yet something is to be said -for the manufacturers too. You see, my good Sir, they have to compete -with all Europe. They are, as it were, running a race, and they must -win it, even if they break their horses' wind." - -"If they do that, they will lose it," replied Beauchamp; "but yet I do -not blame them. I believe the spirit of the times we live in. They -only share it with other men; many of them are humane, kind, generous, -just, who do as much good and as little evil as the iron band of -circumstances will permit; and were all to strive in the same manner, -and to the same degree, that iron band would be broken, and all would -be wiser, happier, better--ay, even wealthier than they are; but, -alas! the example of the good have little influence on the rest on the -same level with themselves, and the example of the bad, immense -influence on every grade beneath them. The cupidity of the great -mill-owner is imitated and exceeded by those below him. He robs the -poor artizan of his labour, by allowing him as little out of the -wealth his exertions earn as the superfluity of industry compels the -artizan to take, and justifies himself with the cold axiom, that he is -not bound to pay more than other men; those below him rob the same -defenceless being of a great part of those poor wages themselves by a -more direct kind of plunder, and have their axiom too. One of the -great problems of the day is this: what proportion of the profits -accruing from the joint-operation of capital and labour is to be -assigned to each of those two elements? And the day will come ere -long, depend upon it, when that great problem must be solved--I -trust not in bloody characters. At present, there is no check to -secure a fair division; and so long as there is none, wealth will -always take advantage of poverty, and the competition for mere food -will induce necessity to submit to avarice, till the burden becomes -intolerable--and then--" - -"What then?" asked Ned Hayward. - -"Nay, God forbid," answered Beauchamp, "that the fears which will -sometimes arise should ever be verified. A thousand unforeseen events -may occur to waft away the dangers that seem to menace us; but I -cannot help thinking that in the meantime there are many duties -neglected by those who have the power to interfere; for surely, if any -foresight be wisdom, any human providence a virtue, they are the -foresight that perceives the future magnitude of evils yet in the bud, -and the providence that applies a remedy in time." - -"Very true," answered Ned Hayward; "things do look rather badly; but I -dare say all will get right at last. I have not thought of such things -very deeply--not half so deeply as you have done, I know; but still I -have been sorry to see, in many of our great towns, the people so -wretched-looking; and sometimes I have thought that if better care -were taken of them--I mean both in mind and body--our judges at the -assizes would not have so much to do. Just as fevers spread through -whole countries from a great congregation of sickly people, so crimes -extend through a land from great congregations of vicious people. For -my part, if, like our good friend Abon Hassan, I could but be caliph -for a short time, I'd open out all the narrow streets, and drain all -the foul lands, and cultivate all ignorant minds, and try to purify -all the corrupt hearts by the only thing that can purify them. But I -am not caliph; and if I were, the task is above me I fancy: but still, -if it could be accomplished, even in part, I am quite sure that -jurymen would dine earlier, lawyers have less to do, courts would rise -at three o'clock, and the lord mayor and sheriffs eat their turtle -more in peace. But talking of that, do you know I have been thinking -all this while how we could get some insight into this affair of the -highway robbery; for I am determined I will not let the matter sleep. -Highway robberies are going quite out of fashion. I have not heard of -one for these four months. Hounslow Heath is almost as safe as -Berkeley-square, and Bagshot no more to be feared than Windsor Castle. -It is a pity to let such things revive; and there is something about -that old fellow Wittingham which strikes me as odd. Another thing too -was funny enough. Why should they pull the young lady out of the -chaise? She could just as well have handed her purse and her trinkets -out of the window!" - -"That seemed strange to me also," answered Beauchamp. "But how do you -propose to proceed?" - -"Why, I think the best way will be to frighten the post-boy," replied -Ned Hayward. "He's in league with the rogues, whoever they are, depend -upon it; and if he thinks his neck's in a noose, he'll peach." - -"That is not improbable," said his companion; "but we had better -proceed cautiously, for if we frighten him into denying all knowledge -of the parties, he will adhere to his story for mere consistency's -sake." - -"Oh, I'll manage him, I will manage him," answered Ned Hayward, -who had carried so many points in his life by his dashing -straightforwardness, that he had very little doubt of his own powers. -"Come along, and we will see. Let us saunter out into the yard, in a -quiet careless way, as if we were sentimental and loved moonlight. We -shall find him somewhere rubbing down his horses, or drinking a pint -on the bench." - -The two gentlemen accordingly took their hats and issued forth, Ned -Hayward leading the way first out into the street through a -glass-door, and then round into the yard by an archway. This -man[oe]uvre was intended to elude the vigilant eyes of Mr. Groomber, -and was so far successful that the landlord, being one of that small -class of men who can take a hint, did not come out after them to offer -his services, though he saw the whole proceeding, and while he was -uncorking sherry, or portioning out tea, or making up a bill, kept one -eye--generally the right--turned towards a window that looked in the -direction of the stables. Before those stables the bright moon was -laying out her silver carpeting, though, truth to say, she might have -found a cleaner floor to spread it on; and there too paraded up and -down our friends, Ned Hayward and Mr. Beauchamp, looking for the -post-boy who had driven Mrs. Clifford and her daughter, but not -perceiving him in any direction. Ned Hayward began to suspect he had -reckoned without his host. The man was not rubbing down his horses, he -was not drinking a pint on the bench, he was not smoking a pipe at the -inn door. - -"Well," he said at length, "I will look into all the stables to see -after my horse. It is but right I should attend to his supper now I -have had my own, and perhaps we may find what we are looking for on -the road. Let us wait awhile, however, till that one-eyed ostler is -passed, or he will tell us where the horse is, and spoil our -man[oe]uvre." And, walking on, he pointed out to Beauchamp a peculiar -spot upon the moon's surface, and commented upon it with face upturned -till the inconvenient ostler had gone by. - -At that moment, however, another figure appeared in the yard, which at -once brought light into Ned Hayward's mind. It was not a pretty -figure, nor had it a pretty face belonging to it. The back was bowed -and contorted in such a manner as to puzzle the tailor exceedingly to -fit it with a fustian jacket when it required a new one, which luckily -was not often; the legs were thin, and more like a bird's than a human -being's, and though the skull was large and not badly shaped, the -features that appeared below the tall forehead seemed all to be -squeezed together, so as to acquire a rat-like expression, not -uncommon in the deformed. The head, which was bare, was thatched with -thin yellow hair, but the eyes were black and clear, and the teeth -large and white, the garments which this poor creature wore, were -those of an inferior servant of an inn; and his peculiar function -seemed to be denoted by a tankard of beer, which he carried in his -hand from the door of the tap towards the stables. - -"He is carrying our friend his drink," said Ned Hayward, in a whisper -to Beauchamp, "let us watch where the little pot-boy goes in, and I'll -take seven to one we find the man we want." - -The pot-boy gave a shrewd glance at the two gentlemen as he passed -them, but hurried on towards one of the doors far down the yard, which -when it was opened displayed a light within; and as soon as he had -deposited his tankard and returned, those who had watched him followed -his course and threw back the same door without ceremony. There before -them, seated on a bench at a deal-table, was the post-boy of whom they -were in search. They had both marked him well by the evening light, -and there could be no doubt of his identity, though by this time he -had got his hat and jacket off, and was sitting with a mane-comb on -one hand and a curry-comb on the other, and the tankard of beer -between them. He was a dull, unpleasant, black-bearded sort of fellow -of fifty-five or six, with a peculiarly cunning gray eye, and a -peculiarly resolute slow mouth, and as soon as Ned Hayward beheld the -expression by the light of a tallow-candle in a high state of -perspiration, he muttered "We shall not make much of this specimen." - -Nevertheless, he went on in his usual careless tone addressing the -lord of the posting-saddle, and saying, "Good night, my man; I want -you to tell me where I can find a gentleman I wish to see here -abouts." - -The post-boy had risen, and pulled the lock of short black and white -hair upon his forehead, but without looking a bit more communicative -than at first, and he merely answered, "If I knows where he lives, -Sir. What's his name?" - -"Why that's another matter," replied Ned Hayward; "perhaps he may not -much like his name mentioned; but I can tell you what people call him -sometimes. He goes by the name of Wolf occasionally." - -The slightest possible twinkle of intelligence came into the man's -eyes for a moment, and then went out again, just as when clouds are -driving over the sky at night we sometimes see something sparkle for -an instant, and then disappear from the heavens, so faint while it is -present, and so soon gone, that we cannot tell whether it be a star or -not. - -"Can't say I ever heard of such a gemman here, Sir," replied the -post-boy. "There's Jimmy Lamb, Sir, the mutton-pieman, but that's the -nearest name to Wolf we have in these parts." - -"Why, my good friend, you saw him this very night," said Mr. -Beauchamp, "when the chaise was stopped that you were driving. He was -one of the principals in that affair." - -"Likely, Sir," answered the other, "but they were all strangers to -me--never set eyes on one 'on 'em afore. But if you knows 'em, you'll -soon catch 'em; and that will be a good job, for it is very unpleasant -to be kept a waiting so. It's as bad as a 'pike." - -"I've a notion," said Ned Hayward, "that you can find out my man for -me if you like; and if you do, you may earn a crown; but if you do not -you may get into trouble, for concealing felons renders you what is -called an accessory, and that is a capital crime. You know the law, -Sir," he continued, turning to Beauchamp, and speaking in an -authoritative tone, "and if I am not mistaken, this comes under the -statute of limitations as a clear case of misprision, which under the -old law was merely burning in the hand and transportation for life, -but is now hanging matter. You had better think over the business, my -man, and let me have an immediate answer with due deliberation, for -you are not a person I should think to put your head in a halter, and -if you were, I should not advise you to do so in this case." - -"Thank you, Sir," said the post-boy, "I won't; but I don't know the -gemmen as showed themselves such rum customers, nor him either as you -are a axing arter." - -"It is in vain, I fear," said Beauchamp to his companion in a very low -voice, as their respondent made this very definite answer, "the -magistrates may perhaps obtain some further information from him when -he finds that the matter is serious, but we shall not." - -The post-boy caught a few of the words apparently, and perhaps it was -intended that he should do so, but they were without effect; and when -at length they walked away baffled, he twisted the eyelids into a sort -of wreath round his left eye, observing with his tongue in his cheek, -"Ay, ay, my covies, no go!" - -Ned Hayward opened the door somewhat suddenly, and as he went out, he -almost tumbled over the little humpbacked pot-boy. Now whether the -young gentleman--his years might be nineteen or twenty, though his -stature was that of a child of eight--came thither to replenish the -tankard he had previously brought, or whether he affected the -moonlight, or was fond of conversation in which he did not take a -part, Ned Hayward could not at the moment divine; but before he and -Beauchamp had taken a dozen steps up the yard, Hayward felt a gentle -pull at his coat-tail. - -"What is it, my lad?" he said, looking down upon the pot-boy, and at -the same time stooping his head as if with a full impression that his -ears at their actual height could hear nothing that proceeded from a -point so much below as the deformed youth's mouth. - -Instantly a small high-pitched but very musical voice replied, "I'll -come for your boots early to-morrow, Sir, and tell you all about it." - -"Can't you tell me now?" asked the young gentleman, "I am going into -the stable to see my horse, and you can say your say there, my man." - -"I daren't," answered the pot-boy, "there's Tim the Ostler, and Jack -Millman's groom, and Long Billy, the Taunton post-boy, all about. -I'll come to-morrow and fetch your boots." - -At the same moment the landlord's voice exclaiming in sharp tones, -"Dicky! Dicky Lamb!--what the devil are you so long about?" was heard, -and the pot-boy ran off as fast as his long thin legs would carry him. - -"Well this affair promises some amusement," said Ned Hayward, when -they had again reached the little parlour, which in his good-humoured -easy way he now looked upon as common to them both. "Upon my word I am -obliged to these highwaymen, or whatever the scoundrels may be, for -giving me something fresh to think of. Although at good Sir John -Slingsby's I shall have fishing enough, I dare say, yet one cannot -fish all day and every day, and sometimes one gets desperately bored -in an old country-house, unless fate strikes out something not quite -in the common way to occupy one." - -"Did you ever try falling in love?" asked Beauchamp, with a quiet -smile, as he glanced his eyes over the fine form and handsome features -of his companion, "it is an excellent pastime, I am told." - -"No!" answered Ned Hayward quickly and straightforwardly; "I never -did, and never shall. I am too poor, Mr. Beauchamp, to marry in my own -class of society, and maintain my wife in the state which that class -implies. I am too honest to make love without intending to marry; too -wise I trust to fall in love where nothing could be the result but -unhappiness to myself if not to another also." He spake these few -sentences very seriously; but then, resuming at once his gay rattling -manner, he went on: "Oh, I have drilled myself capitally, I assure -you. At twenty I was like a raw recruit, bungling at every step; found -myself saying all manner of sweet things to every pretty face I met; -felt my heart beating whenever, under the pretty face, I thought I -discovered something that would last longer. But I saw so much of love -in a cottage and its results, that, after calculating well what a -woman brought up in good society would have to sacrifice who married a -man with 600_l_. a-year, I voted it unfair to ask her, and made up my -mind to my conduct. As soon as ever I find that I wish to dance with -any dear girl twice in a night, and fall into reveries when I think of -her, and feel a sort of warm blood at my fingers' ends when my hand -touches hers, I am off like a hair-trigger, for if a man is bound to -act with honour to other men, who can make him if he does not -willingly, he is ten times more strongly bound to do so towards women, -who can neither defend nor avenge themselves." - -With a sudden impulse Beauchamp held out his hand to him, and shook -his heartily, and that grasp seemed to say, "I know you now to the -heart. We are friends." - -Ned Hayward was a little surprised at this enthusiastic burst of Mr. -Beauchamp for he had set him down for what is generally called a very -gentlemanlike person, which means, in the common parlance of the -world, a man who has either used up every thing like warm feeling, or -has never possessed it, and who, not being troubled with any emotions, -suffers polite manners and conventional habits to rule him in and out. -With his usual rapid way of jumping at conclusions--which he often -found very convenient, though to say the truth he sometimes jumped -over the right ones--he said to himself at once, "Well, this is really -a good fellow, I do believe, and a man of some heart and soul." - -But though Beauchamp's warm shake of the hand had led him to this -conviction, and he thought he began to understand him, yet Ned Hayward -was a little curious as to a question which his new friend had asked -him some time before. He had answered it, it is true, by telling him -that he took care not to fall in love; but he fancied that Mr. -Beauchamp had inquired in a peculiar tone, and that he must have had -some meaning more than the words implied, taken in their simple and -straightforward application. - -"Come now, tell me, Beauchamp," he said, after just five seconds -consideration, "what made you ask if I had ever tried falling in love -by way of amusement? Did you ever hear any story of my being guilty of -such practices? If you have it was no true one--at least for six or -seven years past." - -"Oh, no," replied Beauchamp laughing, "I have had no means of learning -your secret history. I only inquired because, if you have never tried -that pleasant amusement, you will soon have a capital opportunity. Sir -John Slingsby's daughter is one of the loveliest girls I ever saw." - -"What, old Jack with a daughter!" exclaimed Ned Hayward, and then -added after a moment's thought, "By the way, so he had. I remember her -coming to see him when we were at Winchester. He was separated from -her mother, who was a saint, I recollect. Nobody could accuse old Jack -of that himself, and his daughter used to come and see him at times. A -pretty little girl she was; I think five or six years old. Let me see, -she must be about sixteen or seventeen now; for that is just ten years -ago, when I was an ensign." - -"She is more than that," answered Beauchamp, "by two or three years; -and either it must be longer since you saw her, or--" - -"Oh, no, it is just ten years ago," cried Mr. Hayward; "ten years next -month, for I was then seventeen myself." - -"Well, then, she must have been older than you thought," replied his -companion. - -"Very likely," said Mr. Hayward. "I never could tell girls' ages, -especially when they are children. But there is no fear of my falling -in love with her, if she is what you tell me. I never fell in love -with a beautiful woman in my life--I don't like them; they are always -either pert, or conceited, or vain, or haughty, or foolish. Sooner or -later they are sure to find some ass to tell them how beautiful they -are, and then they think that is quite sufficient for all the purposes -of life." - -"Perhaps because they are first impressed with a wrong notion of the -purposes of life," answered Beauchamp; "but yet I never heard of a man -before who objected to a woman because she was pretty." - -"No, no," answered Ned Hayward, "that is a very different thing. I -did not say pretty. I am very fond of what is pretty. Oh! the very -word is delightful. It gives one such a nice, good-humoured, -comfortable idea: it is full of health, and youth, and good spirits, -and light-heartedness--the word seems to smile and speak content; and -when it is the expression that is spoken of, and not the mere -features, it is very charming indeed. But a beautiful woman is a very -different thing. I would as soon marry the Venus de Medicis, pedestal -and all, as what is usually called a beautiful woman. But now let us -talk of this other affair. I wonder what will come of my mysterious -post-boy." - -"Why, I doubt not you will obtain some information regarding the -gentleman calling himself Wolf," replied Beauchamp; "but if you do, -how do you intend to proceed?" - -"Hunt him down as I would a wolf," answered Ned Hayward. - -"Then pray let me share the sport," rejoined Beauchamp. - -"Oh! certainly, certainly," said Ned Hayward; "I'll give the view -halloo as soon as I have found him; and so now, good night, for I am -somewhat sleepy." - -"Goodnight, goodnight!" answered Beauchamp; and Ned Hayward rang for a -bed-candle, a boot-jack, a pair of slippers, and sundry other things -that he wanted, which were brought instantly, and with great good -will. Had he asked for a nightcap it would have been provided with -the same alacrity; for those were days in which nightcaps were -furnished by every host to every guest; though now (alas! for the good -old times) no landlord ever thinks that a guest will stay long enough -in his house to make it worth while to attend to his head-gear. But -Ned Hayward needed no nightcap, for he never wore one, and therefore -his demands did not at all overtax his host's stock. - - - - -CHAPTER V. -The old Mill. - - -It was just in the gray of the morning, and the silver light of dawn -was stealing through the deep glens of the wood, brightening the dewy -filaments that busy insects had spun across and across the grass, and -shining in long, glistening lines, upon the broad clear stream. It was -a lovely stream as ever the eye of meditation rested on, or thoughtful -angler walked beside; and from about two miles beyond Slingsby Park to -within half a mile of the small town of Tarningham, it presented an -endless variety of quiet English scenery, such as does the heart of -man good to look upon. In one part it was surrounded by high hills, -not unbroken by jagged rocks and lofty banks, and went on tumbling in -miniature cascades and tiny rapids. At another place it flowed on in -greater tranquillity through green meadows, flanked on either hand by -tall, stately trees, at the distance of eighty or ninety yards from -the banks; not in trim rows, all ranged like rank and file upon -parades, but straggling out as chance or taste had decided, sometimes -grouping into masses, sometimes protruding far towards the stream, -sometimes receding coyly into the opening of a little dell. Then again -the river dashed on at a more hurried rate through a low copse, -brawling as it went over innumerable shelves of rock and masses of -stone, or banks of gravel, which attempted to obstruct its course; and -nearer still to the town it flowed through turfy banks, slowly and -quietly, every now and then diversified by a dashing ripple over a -shallow, and a tumble into a deep pool. - -It was in the gray of the morning, then, that a man in a velveteen -jacket was seen walking slowly along by the margin, at a spot where -the river was in a sort of middle state, neither so fierce and restive -as it seemed amongst the hills, nor so tranquil and sluggish as in the -neighbourhood of the little town. There were green fields around; and -numerous trees and copses approaching sometimes very close to the -water, but sometimes breaking away to a considerable distance, and -generally far enough off for the angler to throw a fly without hooking -the branches around. Amongst some elms, and walnuts, and Huntingdon -poplars on the right bank, was an old square tower of very rough -stone, gray and cold-looking, with some ivy up one side, clustering -round the glassless window. It might have been mistaken for the ruin -of some ancient castle of no great extent, had it not been for the -axle-tree and some of the spokes and fellies of a dilapidated -water-wheel projecting over the river, and at once announcing for what -purposes the building had been formerly used, and that they had long -ceased. There was still a little causeway and small stone bridge of a -single arch spanning a rivulet that here joined the stream, and from a -doorway near the wheel still stretched a frail plank to the other -side of the dam, which, being principally constructed of rude layers -of rock, remained entire, and kept up the water so as to form an -artificial cascade. Early as was the hour, some matutinal trout, who, -having risen by times and perhaps taken a long swim before breakfast, -felt hungry and sharpset, were attempting to satisfy their voracious -maws by snapping at a number of fawn-coloured moths which imprudently -trusted themselves too near the surface of the water. The religious -birds were singing their sweet hymns all around, and a large -goatsucker whirled by on his long wings, depriving the trout of many a -delicate fly before it came within reach of the greedy jaws that were -waiting for it below the ripple. - -But what was the man doing while fish, flies, and birds were thus -engaged? Marry he was engaged in a very curious and mysterious -occupation. With a slow step and a careful eye fixed upon the glassy -surface beneath him, he walked along the course of the current down -towards the park paling that you see there upon the left. Was he -admiring the speckled tenants of the river? Was he admiring his own -reflected image on the shining mirror of the stream? He might be doing -either, or both; but, nevertheless, he often put his finger and thumb -into the pocket of a striped waistcoat; pulled out some small round -balls, about the size of a pea or a little larger, marvellously like -one of those boluses which doctors are sometimes fain to prescribe, -and chemists right willing to furnish, but which patients find it -somewhat difficult to swallow. These he dropped one by one into the -water, wherever he found a quiet place, and thus proceeded till he had -come within about three hundred yards of the park wall. There he -stopped the administration of these pills; and then, walking a little -further, sat down by the side of the river, in the very midst of a -tall clump of rushes. - -In a minute or two something white, about the length of eighteen -inches, floated down; and instantly stretching forth a long hooked -stick, our friend drew dexterously in to the shore a fine large trout -of a pound and a half in weight. The poor fellow was quite dead, or at -least so insensible that he did not seem at all surprised or annoyed -to find himself suddenly out of his element, and into another -gentleman's pocket, though the transition was somewhat marvellous, -from the fresh clear stream to a piece of glazed buckram. Most people -would have disliked the change, but Mister Trout was in that sort of -state that he did not care about any thing. Hardly was he thus -deposited when one of his finny companions--perhaps his own brother, -or some other near relation--was seen coming down the stream with his -stomach upwards, a sort of position which, to a trout, is the same as -standing on the head would be to a human being. This one was nearer -the bank, and first he hit his nose against a stump of tree, then, -whirling quietly round, he tried the current tail foremost; but it was -all of no avail, he found his way likewise into the pocket, and two -more were easily consigned to the same receptacle, all of them showing -the same placid equanimity. At length one very fine fish, which seemed -to weigh two pounds and a half, at the least, followed advice, and -took a middle course. He was out of reach of the stick; the water was -too deep at that spot to wade, and what was our friend of the pocket -to do? He watched the fish carried slowly down the stream towards the -place where the river passed under an archway into Sir John Slingsby's -park. It was fat and fair, and its fins were rosy as if the morning -sun had tinged them. Its belly was of a glossy white, with a kindly -look about its half-expanded gills, that quite won our friend's -affection. Yet he hesitated; and being a natural philosopher, he knew -that by displacing the atoms of water the floating body might be -brought nearer to the shore. He therefore tried a stone: but whether -he threw it too far, or not far enough, I cannot tell; certain it is, -the trout was driven further away than before, and to his -inexpressible disappointment, he saw it carried through the arch. He -was resolved, however, that it should not thus escape him. Difficult -circumstances try, if they do not make, great men; and taking a little -run, he vaulted over the park paling and into the park. - -He was just in the act of getting over again, perhaps feeling if he -stayed too long it might be considered an intrusion, and had the fish -in his hand, so that his movements were somewhat embarrassed, when a -little incident occurred which considerably affected his plans and -purposes for the day. - -I have mentioned an old mill, and sundry trees and bushes at different -distances from the bank, breaking the soft green meadow turf in a very -picturesque manner. In the present instance, these various objects -proved not only ornamental but useful--at least to a personage who had -been upon the spot nearly as long as our friend in the velveteen -jacket. That personage had been tempted into the mill either by its -curious and ancient aspect, or by the open door, or by surprise, or by -some other circumstance or motive; and once in he thought he might as -well look out of the window. When he did look out of the window, the -first thing his eyes fell upon, was the first-mentioned gentleman -dropping his pills into the water; and there being something curious -and interesting in the whole proceeding, the man in the mill watched -the man by the river for some minutes. He then quietly slipped out, -and as the door was on the opposite side from that on which the -operations I have described were going on, he did so unperceived. It -would seem that the watcher became much affected by what he saw; for -the next minute he glided softly over the turf behind a bush, and -thence to a clump of trees, and then to a single old oak with a good -wide trunk--rather hollow and somewhat shattered about the branches, -but still with two or three of the lower boughs left, having a fair -show of leaves, like a fringe of curly hair round the poll of some -bald Anacreon. From that he went to another, and so on; in fact, -dodging our first friend all the way down, till the four first trout -were pocketed, and the fifth took its course into the park. When the -betrayer of these tender innocents, however, vaulted over the paling -in pursuit, the dodger came out and got behind some bushes--brambles, -and other similar shrubs that have occasionally other uses than -bearing blackberries; and no sooner did he see the successful chaser -of the trout, with his goodly fish in his hand and one leg over the -paling, about to return to the open country, than taking two steps -forward, he laid his hand upon his collar, and courteously helped him -over somewhat faster than he would have come without such assistance. - -The man of fishes had his back to his new companion at the moment when -he received such unexpected support; but as soon as his feet touched -the ground on the other side, he struggled most unreasonably to free -his collar from the grasp that still retained it. He did not succeed -in this effort; far from it; for he well-nigh strangled himself in the -attempt to get out of that iron clutch; but, nevertheless, he -contrived, at the risk of suffocation, to bring himself face to face -with his tenacious friend, and beheld, certainly what he did not -expect to see. No form of grim and grisly gamekeeper was before him; -no shooting-jacket and leathern leggings; but a person in the garb of -a gentleman of good station, furnished with arms, legs, and chest of -dimensions and materials which seemed to show that a combat would be -neither a very safe nor pleasant affair. - -"Who the devil are you?" asked the lover of trout, in the same terms -which Mr. Wittingham had used the night before to the very same -personage. - -"Ha, ha, my friend!" exclaimed Ned Hayward; "so you have been -hocussing the trout have you?" And there they stood for a few minutes -without any answers to either question. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. -In which Ned Hayward plays the part of Thief-taker. - - -Of all the turnings and windings in this crooked life, one of the most -disagreeable is turning back; and yet it is one we are all doomed to -from childhood to old age. We are turned back with the smaller and the -greater lessons of life, and have alas, but too often, in our -obstinacy or our stupidity to learn them over and over again. I with -the rest of my herd must also turn back from time to time; but on the -present occasion it shall not be long, as I am not in a sportive mood -this morning, and could find no pleasure in playing a trout or a -salmon, and should be disgusted at the very sight of a cat with a -mouse. - -We have seen our good friend, Ned Hayward, lay his hand stoutly on the -collar of a gentleman who had been taking some unwarrantable liberties -with the finny fair ones of the stream; but the question is, how -happened Ned Hayward to be there at that particular hour of the -morning? Was he so exceedingly matutinal in his habits as to be -usually up, dressed, and out and walking by a piece of water at a -period of the day when most things except birds, fish, and poachers -are in their beds? Had he been roused at that hour by heartach, or -headach, or any other ache? Was he gouty and could not sleep--in love, -and not inclined to sleep? No, reader, no. He was an early man in his -habits it is true, for he was in high health and spirits, and with a -busy and active mind which looked upon slumber as time thrown away; -but then though he rose early he was always careful as to his dress. -He had a stiff beard which required a good deal of shaving, his hair -took him a long time, for he liked it to be exceedingly clean and -glossy. Smooth he could not make it, for that the curls prevented, -curls being obstinate things and resolved to have their own way. Thus -with one thing or another, sometimes reading scraps of a book that lay -upon his dressing-table, sometimes looking out of window, and thinking -more poetically than he had any notion of, sometimes cleaning his -teeth till they looked as white and as straight as the keys of a new -pianoforte, sometimes playing a tune with his fingers on the top of -the table, and musing philosophically the while, it was generally at -least one hour and a half from the time he arose before he issued -forth into the world. - -This was not always the case indeed, for on May mornings, when the -trout rise, in August, if he were near the moors, on the first of -September, wherever he might be, for he was never at that season in -London, he usually abridged his toilet, and might be seen in the green -fields, duly equipped for the sport of the season, very shortly after -daybreak. - -On the present occasion, and the morning of which I have just spoken, -there cannot be the slightest doubt that he would have laid in bed -somewhat longer than usual, for he had had a long ride the day before, -some excitement, a good supper, and had sat up late; but there was one -little circumstance which roused him and sent him forth. At about a -quarter before five he heard his door open, and a noise made amongst -the boots and shoes. He was in that sleepy state in which the events -of even five or six hours before are vague and indefinite, if -recollected at all, and although he had some confused notion of having -ordered himself to be called early, yet he knew not the why or the -wherefore, and internally concluded that it was one of the servants of -the inn come to take his clothes away for the purpose of brushing -them; he thought, as that was a process with which he had nothing to -do, he might as well turn on his other side and sleep it out. Still, -however, there was a noise in the room, which in the end disturbed -him, and he gave over all the boots, physical or metaphysical, to the -devil. Then raising himself upon his elbow, he looked about, and by -the dim light which was streaming through the dimity curtains--for the -window was unfurnished with shutters--he saw a figure somewhat like -that of a large goose wandering about amidst the fragments of his -apparel. - -"What in the mischiefs name are you about?" asked Ned Hayward, -impatiently. "Can't you take the things and get along?" - -"It's me, Sir," said the low, sweet-toned voice of the humpbacked -pot-boy, who had not a perfect certainty in his own mind that neuter -verbs are followed by a nominative case, "you were wishing to know -last night about--" - -"Ah, hang it, so I was," exclaimed Ned Hayward, "but I had forgotten -all about it--well, my man, what can you tell me about this fellow, -this Wolf? Where does he live, how can one get at him? None of the -people here will own they know any thing about him, but I believe they -are lying, and I am very sure of it. The name's a remarkable one, and -not to be mistaken." - -"Ay, Sir," answered the pot-boy, "they knew well enough whom you want, -though you did not mention the name they chose to know him by. If you -had asked for Ste Gimlet, they'd have been obliged to answer, for they -can't deny having heard of him. Wolf's a cant name, you see, which he -got on account of his walking about so much at night, as they say -wolves do, though I never saw one." - -"Well, where is he to be found?" asked Ned Hayward, in his usual rapid -manner, and he then added, to smooth down all difficulties, "I don't -want to do the man any harm if I can help it, for I have a notion, -somehow, that he is but a tool in the business; and therefore, -although I could doubtless with the information you have given me of -his real name, find him out, and deal with him as I think fit, yet I -would rather have his address privately, that I may go and talk to him -alone." - -"Ah, Sir, he may be a tool," answered the pot-boy, "but he's an -awkward tool to work with; and I should think you had better have two -or three stout hands with you." - -"Well, I will think of that, my man," answered the young gentleman; -"but at all events I should like to know where to find him." - -"That's not quite so easy, Sir," replied the hunchback, "for he -wanders about a good deal, but he has got a place where he says he -lives on Yaldon Moor, behind the park, and that he's there some time -in every day is certain. I should think the morning as good a time as -any, and you may catch him on the look-out if you go round by the back -of the park, and then up the river by the old mill. There's an overgo -a little higher up, and I shouldn't wonder if he were dabbling about -in the water; for it isn't the time for partridges or hares, and he -must be doing something." - -"But what sort of place has he on the moor?" asked Ned Hayward, -beginning to get more and more interested in the pursuit of his -inquiries; "how can I find it, my man?" - -"It's not easy," answered his companion, "for it's built down in the -pit. However, when you have crossed by the overgo, you will find a -little path just before you, and if you go along that straight, -without either turning to the right or the left, it will lead you -right up to the moor. Then I'm sure I don't know how to direct you, -for the roads go turning about in all manner of ways." - -"Is it east, west, north, or south?" asked Captain Hayward, -impatiently. - -"Why east," answered the boy; "and I dare say if you go soon you will -find the sun just peeping out over the moor in that direction. It's a -pretty sight, and I've looked at it often to see the sunshine come -streaming through the morning mist, and making all the green things -that grow about there look like gold and purple, and very often, too, -I've seen the blue smoke coming up out of the pit from Ste's -cottage-chimney, Perhaps it may be so when you go, and then you'll -easily find it." - -"And whose park is it you speak of, boy?" said Ned Hayward. "There may -be half-a-dozen about here." - -"Why, Sir John Slingsby's," answered the boy, "that's the only one we -call the park about here." - -"Oh, then, I know it," rejoined the gentleman, stretching out his hand -at the same time, and taking his purse from a chair that stood by his -bedside; "there's a crown for you; and now carry off the boots and -clothes, and get them brushed as fast as possible." - -The boy did as he was told, took the crown with many thanks, gathered -together the various articles of apparel which lay scattered about, -and retired from the room. Ned Hayward, however, without waiting for -his return, jumped out of bed, drew forth from one of his portmanteaus -another complete suit of clothes, plunged his head, hands, and neck in -cold water, and then mentally saying, "I will shave when I come back," -he dressed himself in haste, and looked out for a moment into the -yard, to see whether many of the members of the household were astir. -There was a man at the very further end of the yard cleaning a horse, -and just under the window, the little deformed pot-boy, whistling a -plaintive air with the most exquisite taste, while he was brushing a -coat and waistcoat. The finest and most beautiful player on the -flageolet, never equalled the tones that were issuing from his little -pale lips, and Ned Hayward could not refrain from pausing a moment to -listen, but then putting on his hat, he hurried down stairs, and -beckoned the boy towards him. - -"Do not say that I am out, my man, unless any questions are asked," he -said; "and when you have brushed the clothes, put them on a chair at -the door." - -The boy nodded significantly, and our friend, Ned Hayward, took his -way out of the town in the direction that the boy had indicated. Of -all the various bumps in the human head, the bump of locality is the -foremost. This book the reader is well aware is merely a phrenological -essay in a new form. So the bump of locality is the most capricious, -whimsical, irrational, unaccountable, perverse, and unmanageable of -all bumps. To some men it affords a faculty of finding their way about -houses--I wish to Heaven it did so with me, for I am always getting -into wrong rooms and places where I have no business--others it -enables to go through all sorts of tortuous paths and ways almost by -intuition; with others it is strong regarding government offices, and -the places connected therewith; but in Ned Hayward it was powerful in -the country, and it would have been a very vigorous _ignis fatuus_ -indeed that would lead him astray either on horseback or on foot. -Three words of direction generally sufficed if they were clear, and he -was as sure of his journey as if he knew every step of the way. There -might be a little calculation in the thing--a sort of latent -argumentation--for no one knew better that if a place lay due north, -the best way to arrive at it was not to go due south, or was more -clearly aware that in ordinary circumstances, the way into the valley -was not to climb the hill; but Ned Hayward was rarely disposed to -analyse any process in his own mind. He had always hated dissected -puzzles even in his boyhood; and as his mind was a very good mind, he -generally let it take its own way, without troubling it with -questions. Thus he walked straight on out of the little town along the -bank of the river, and finding himself interrupted, after about three -miles, by the park-wall, he took a path through the fields to the -left, then struck back again to the right, and soon after had a -glimpse of the river again above its passage through Sir John -Slingsby's park. - -All this time Ned Hayward's mind was not unoccupied. He saw every -thing that was passing about him, and meditated upon it without -knowing that he was meditating. The sky was still quite gray when he -set out, but presently the morning began to hang out her banners of -purple and gold to welcome the monarch of day, and Ned Hayward said to -himself, "How wonderfully beautiful all this is, and what a fine -ordination is it that every change in nature should produce some -variety of beauty." Then he remarked upon the trees, and the birds, -and the meadows, and the reflections of the sky in a clear, smooth -part of the river, and with somewhat of a painter's mind, perceived -the beautiful harmony that is produced by the effect that one colour -has upon another by its side. And then he passed a little village -church, with the steeple shrouded in ivy, and it filled his mind full -of quiet and peaceful images, and simple rural life (with a moral to -it all), and his thoughts ran on to a thousand scenes of honest -happiness, till he had the game at skittles and the maypole on the -green up before him as plain as if it were all real; and the ivy and -two old yews carried him away to early times when that ancient church -was new. Heaven knows how far his fancy went galloping!--through the -whole history of England at least. But all these reveries went out of -his head almost as soon as the objects that excited them, and then, as -he went through some neat hedgerows and pleasant corn-fields, which -promised well in their green freshness for an abundant harvest, he -began to think of partridges and an occasional pheasant lying under a -holly-bush, and pointing dogs and tumbling birds, a full game-bag, and -a capital dinner, with a drowsy evening afterwards. Good Heaven! what -a thing it is to be young, and in high health, and in high spirits; -how easy the load of life sits upon one; how insignificant are its -cares to its enjoyments; every moment has its flitting dream; every -hour its becoming enjoyment, if we choose to seek it; every flower, be -it bitter or be it sweet, be it inodorous or be it perfumed, has its -nectarial fall of honeyed drops, ripe for the lip that will vouchsafe -to press it. But years, years, they bring on the autumn of the heart, -when the bright and blooming petals have passed away, when the dreams -have vanished with the light slumbers of early years, and every thing -is in the seed for generations to come; we feel ourselves the husks of -the earth, and find that it is time to fall away, and give place to -the bloom and blossom of another epoch. - -Our friend, however, if not in the budding time of life, had nothing -of the sere and yellow leaf about him; he was one of those men who was -calculated to carry on the day-dream of boyhood, even beyond its -legitimate limit; nothing fretted him, nothing wore him, few things -grieved him. It required the diamond point to make a deep impression, -and though he reflected the lights that fell upon him from other -objects, it was but the more powerful rays that penetrated into the -depth, and that not very frequently. Thus on he went upon his way, and -what he had got to after partridges and field-swamps, and matters of -such kind, Heaven only knows. He might be up in the moon for aught I -can tell, or in the Indies, or riding astride upon a comet, or in any -other position the least likely for a man to place himself in, except -when aided by the wings of imagination; and yet, strange to say, Ned -Hayward had not the slightest idea that he had any imagination at all. -He believed himself to be the most simple jog-trot, matter-of-fact -creature in all the world; but to return, he was indulging in all -sorts of fantasies, just when a little path between two high hedges -opened out upon a narrow meadow, by the side of the river at a spot -just opposite the old mill, and not more than forty or fifty yards -distant from the door thereof. He saw the old mill and the stream, but -saw nothing else upon my word, and thinking to himself, - -"What a picturesque ruin that is, it looks like some feudal castle -built beside the water, parting two hostile barons' domains. What the -deuce can it have been?" - -Doubt with him always led to examination, so without more ado, he -crossed over the open space with his usual quick step, entered the -mill, looked about him, satisfied himself in a minute as to what had -been its destination, and then gazed out of the windows, first up the -stream, and next down. Up the stream he saw some swallows skimming -over the water, the first that summer had brought to our shores; and, -moreover, a sedate heron, with its blue back appearing over some -reeds, one leg in the water, and one raised to its breast. When he -looked down, however, he perceived the gentleman I have described, -dropping some pellets into the water, and he thought "That's a curious -operation, what can he be about?" - -The next minute, however, the legitimate wooer of the fishes turned -his face partly towards the mill, and Ned Hayward murmured, "Ah ha, -Master Wolf, _alias_ Ste Gimlet, I have you now, I think." And issuing -forth, he dogged him down the bank as I have before described, till at -length, choosing his moment dexterously, he grasped him by the collar, -in such a manner, that if he had had the strength of Hercules, he -would have found it a more difficult matter to escape, than to kill -forty Hydras, or clean fifty Augean stables. - -"Hocussing the fish!" said the prisoner, in answer to one of Captain -Hayward's first intimations of what he thought of his proceedings. "I -don't know what you mean by hocussing the fish--I've got a few dead -'uns out of the river, that's all; and no great harm, I should think, -just to make a fry." - -"Ay, my good friend," replied Ned Hayward, "dead enough, I dare say -they were when you got them; but I'm afraid we must have a coroner's -inquest upon them, and I do not think the verdict will be 'Found -drowned.' What I mean, my man, is that you have poisoned them--a -cunning trick, but one that I know as well as your name or my own." - -"And what the devil is your name?" asked the captive, trying to twist -himself round, so as at least to get a blow or a kick at his captor. - -"Be quiet--be quiet!" answered Ned Hayward, half strangling him in his -collar. "My name is my own property, and I certainly will not give it -to you; but your own you shall have, if you like. You are called Ste -Gimlet or I am mistaken, but better known at night by the name of -Wolf." - -The man muttered an angry curse, and Ned Hayward continued, - -"You see I know all about you; and, to tell you the truth, I was -looking for you." - -"Ah, so he's had some 'un down from London," said Wolf, entirely -mistaking the nature of Captain Hayward's rank and avocation. "Well, -so help me--, if I ever did this on his ground, afore, Sir." - -"Well, Master Gimlet," answered Ned Hayward, perfectly understanding -what was passing in the man's mind, and willing to encourage the -mistake, "I have been asked down certainly, and I suppose I must take -you before Sir John Slingsby at once--unless, indeed, you like to make -the matter up one way or another." - -"I haven't got a single crown in the world," answered the poacher; "if -you know all, you'd know that I am poor enough." - -"Ay, but there are more ways than one of making matters up," rejoined -Ned Hayward, in a menacing tone. "You know a little bit of business -you were about last night." - -The man's face turned as white as a sheet, and his limbs trembled as -if he had been in the cold fit of an ague. All his strength was gone -in a moment, and he was as powerless as a baby. - -"Why," faltered he at length, "you could not be sent for that affair, -for there's not been time." - -"No, certainly," replied the young gentleman; "but having been asked -down here on other matters, I have just taken that up, and may go -through with it or not, just as it suits me. Now you see, Ste," he -continued, endeavouring to assume, as well as he could, somewhat of -the Bow-street officer tone, and doing so quite sufficiently to effect -his object with a country delinquent, "a nod you know is quite as good -as a wink to a blind horse." - -"Ay, ay, I understand, Sir," answered Mr. Gimlet. - -"Well then," continued Ned Hayward, "I understand, too; and being -quite sure that you are not what we call the principal in this -business, but only an accessory, I am willing to give you a chance." - -"Thank'ee, Sir," replied Wolf, in a meditative tone, but he said no -more; and his captor, who wished him to speak voluntarily, was -somewhat disappointed. - -"You are mighty dull, Master Wolf," said Ned Hayward, "and therefore I -must ask you just as plain a question as the judge does when he has -got the black cap in his hand ready to put on. Have you any thing to -say why I should not take you at once before Sir John Slingsby?" - -"Why, what the devil should I say?" rejoined the man, impatiently. "If -you know me, I dare say you know the others, and if you're so cunning, -you must guess very well that it was not the money that we were after; -so that it can't be no felony after all." - -"If it is not a felony, it is not worth my while to meddle with," -answered Ned Hayward, "but there may be different opinions upon that -subject; and if you like to tell me all about it, I shall be able to -judge. I guessed it was not for money; but there is many a thing as -bad as that. I don't ask you to speak, but you may if you like. If you -don't, come along." - -"Well, I'll speak all I know," answered Wolf, "that's to say, if -you'll just let me get breath, for, hang me, if your grip does not -half strangle me. I'll not mention names though, for I won't peach; -but just to show you that there was nothing so very wrong, I'll tell -you what it was all about--that's to say, if you'll let me off about -these devils of fish." - -"Agreed as to the fish," replied Ned Hayward, "if you tell the truth. -I don't want to throttle you either, my good friend; but mark me well, -if I let go my hold, and you attempt to bolt, I will knock you down, -and have you before a magistrate in five minutes. Sit down there on -the bank then." And without loosening his grasp, he forced his -prisoner to bend his knees and take up a position before him, from -which it would not have been possible to rise without encountering a -blow from a very powerful fist. When this was accomplished, he let the -man's collar go, and standing directly opposite, bade him proceed. - -This seemed not so easy a task as might have been imagined, at least -to our friend Mr. Gimlet, who, not being a practised orator, wanted -the art of saying as much as possible upon every thing unimportant, -and as little as possible upon every thing important. He scratched his -head heartily, however, and that stimulus at length enabled him to -produce the following sentence. - -"Well, you see, Sir, it was nothing at all but a bit of lovemaking." - -"It did not look like it," answered Ned Hayward. - -"Well, it was though," said Mr. Gimlet, in a decided tone. "The young -gentleman, whom I'm talking of, wanted to get the young lady away; for -you see her mother looks very sharp after her, and so he had a chaise -ready, and me and another to help him, and if those two fellows had -not come up just as we were about it, he'd have had her half way to -Scotland by this time." - -"And where is the young gentleman, as you call him, now?" asked Ned -Hayward, in that sort of quiet, easy tone, in which people sometimes -put questions, which, if considered seriously, would be the least -likely to receive an answer, just as if a straightforward reply were a -matter of course. - -But his companion was upon his guard. "That's neither here nor there," -he replied. - -"It is I can assure you, my good friend Wolf," said the young -gentleman; "for whatever you may think, this was just as much a felony -as if you had taken a purse or cut a throat. Two pistols were fired, I -think--the young lady is an heiress; and forcibly carrying away an -heiress, is as bad as a robbery; it is a sort of picking her pocket of -herself. So, if you have a mind to escape a noose, you'll instantly -tell me where he is." - -The man thrust his hands into his pockets, and gazed at his -interrogator with a sullen face, in which fear might be seen -struggling with dogged resolution; but Ned Hayward the moment after, -added as a sort of rider to his bill, - -"I dare say he is some low fellow who did it for her money." - -"No, that he's not, by--!" cried the other. "He's a gentleman's son, -and a devilish rich un's too." - -"Ah ha! Mr. Wittingham's!" cried Ned Hayward, "now I understand you," -and he laughed with his peculiar clear, merry laugh, which made Mr. -Gimlet, at first angry, and then inclined to join him. "And now, my -good friend," continued Ned Hayward, laying his hand upon his -companion's shoulder, "you may get up and be off. You've made a great -blunder, and mistaken me for a very respectable sort of functionary, -upon whose peculiar province I have no inclination to trespass any -further--I mean a thief-taker. If you will take my advice, however, -neither you nor Mr. Wittingham will play such tricks again, for if you -do you may fare worse; and you may as well leave off hocussing trout, -snaring pheasants and hares, and shooting partridges on the sly, and -take to some more legitimate occupation. You would make a very good -gamekeeper, I dare say, upon the principle of setting a thief to catch -a thief, and some of these days I will come up to your place upon the -moor, and have a chat with you about it; I doubt not you could show me -some sport with otters, or badgers, or things of that kind." - -"Upon my soul and body you're a cool hand," cried Ste Gimlet, rising -and looking at Captain Hayward, as if he did not well know whether to -knock him down or not. - -"I am," answered our friend Ned, with a calm smile, "quite cool, and -always cool, as you'll find when you know me better. As to what has -passed to-day I shall take no notice of this fish affair, and in -regard to Mr. Wittingham's proceedings last night, I shall deliberate -a little before I act. You'd better tell him so when you next see him, -just to keep him on his good behaviour, and so good morning to you, my -friend." - -Thus saying, Ned Hayward turned away, and walked towards the town, -without once looking back to see whether his late prisoner was or was -not about to hit him a blow on the head. Perhaps had he known what was -passing in worthy Mr. Gimlet's mind, he might have taken some -precaution; for certainly that gentleman was considerably moved; but -if the good and the bad spirit had a struggle together in his breast, -the good got the better at length, and he exclaimed, "No, hang it, I -won't," and with a slow and thoughtful step he walked up the stream -again, towards the path which led to the moor. - -Upon that path I shall leave him, and begging the reader to get -upon any favourite horse he may have in the stable--hobby or not -hobby--canter gaily back again to take up some friends that we have -left far behind. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. -Introduces Miss Slingsby to the Reader. - - -The reader may remember that we left a lady and her daughter, whom Ned -Hayward afterwards discovered to be a Mrs. and Miss Clifford, standing -at the door of Sir John Slingsby's house, in the heart of what was -called Tarningham Park. All that Ned Hayward (or the reader either) -knew of their history at the moment that he quitted them, after having -assisted them to alight from their carriage, was as follows: that the -elder lady had been sent for to see her elder brother in his last -moments, he having been accused of having gout in the stomach, and -that she and her daughter had been stopped on the king's highway by -three personages, two of whom, at least, had pistols with them, that -they had been rescued by Captain Hayward himself, and another -gentleman, that on arriving at Tarningham House it did not look at all -like the dwelling of a dying man, and that the answer of the butler to -Mrs. Clifford's inquiries regarding her brother's health was, "Quite -well, thank you Ma'am," delivered in the most commonplace tone in the -world. - -At the precise point of time when this reply was made, Ned Hayward -took his leave, remounted his horse, and rode back to Tarningham, and -after he was gone Mrs. Clifford remained for at least thirty seconds -somewhat bewildered with what seemed to her a very strange -announcement. When she had done being bewildered, and seemed to have -got a slight glimpse of the real state of the case, she turned an -anxious glance to her daughter, to which Miss Clifford, who fully -understood what it meant, replied at once, without requiring to have -it put into words, "You had better go in, dear mamma," she said, "it -will grieve poor Isabella if you do not, and besides, it might be -risking a great deal to go back at night with nobody to protect us." - -Mrs. Clifford still hesitated a little, but in the meantime some -by-play had been going on which decided the question. The butler had -called a footman, the footman had taken a portmanteau and some smaller -packages from the boot of the carriage. The name of Mrs. Clifford had -been mentioned once or twice, a lady's-maid crossing the hall had seen -the two ladies' faces by the light of a great lamp, and in a moment -after, from a door on the opposite side of the vestibule, came forth a -fair and graceful figure, looking like Hebe dressed for dinner. - -"Oh, my dear aunt!" she exclaimed, running across to Mrs. Clifford and -kissing her, "and you, too, my dear Mary! This is indeed an unexpected -pleasure; but come in, come into the drawing-room; they will bring in -all the things--there is no one there," she continued, seeing her aunt -hesitated a little, "I am quite alone, and shall be for the next two -hours, I dare say." - -Mrs. Clifford suffered herself to be led on into a fine large -old-fashioned drawing-room, and then began the explanations. - -"And so, Isabella, you did not expect me to-night," said the elder -lady, addressing Hebe. "Either for jest or for mischief some one has -played us a trick. Have you got the letter, Mary?" - -It was in Miss Clifford's writing-desk, however, as letters always are -in some place where they cannot be found when they are wanted; but the -fact was soon explained that Mrs. Clifford that very day about four -o'clock had received a letter purporting to come from the housekeeper -at Turningham House, informing her that her brother, Sir John -Slingsby, had been suddenly seized with gout in the stomach, and was -not expected to live from hour to hour, that Miss Slingsby was too -much agitated to write, but that Sir John expressed an eager desire to -see his sister before he died. - -"Good gracious!" exclaimed the fair Isabella, "who could have done -such a thing as that?" and then she laughed quietly, adding, "Well, at -all events I am very much obliged to them; but it was a shameful -trick, notwithstanding." - -"You haven't heard the whole yet, Isabella," replied Mrs. Clifford, -"for we have been stopped between this and Tarningham, and should have -been robbed--perhaps murdered--if two gentlemen had not come up to our -rescue--good Heaven, it makes me feel quite faint to think of it." And -she sat down in one of the large arm-chairs, and put her hand to her -head, while her check turned somewhat pale. - -"Take a little wine, my dear aunt," cried Isabella, and before Mrs. -Clifford could stop her she had darted out of the room. - -As soon as she was alone with her daughter, the widow lady gazed round -the chamber in which she sat with a thoughtful and melancholy look. -She was in the house where her early days of girlhood had passed--she -was in the very room where she had gone in all the agitation of happy -love as a bride to the altar. She peopled the place with forms that -could no longer be seen, she called up the loved and the dead, the -parents who had cherished and instructed her, the fair sister who had -bloomed and withered by her side. How many happy, how many a painful -scene rose to the eye of memory on that stage where they had been -enacted. All the material objects were the same, the pictures, the -furniture, the old oak paneling with its carved wreaths; but where -were they who moved so lately beside her in that chamber--where was -all that had there been done? The grave and the past--man's tomb, and -the tomb of man's actions had received them, and in the short space of -twenty years all had gone, fading away and dissolving into air like a -smoke rising up unto heaven, and spreading out thinner and thinner, -till naught remains. Herself and a brother, from whom many -circumstances had detached her, were all that were left of the crowd -of happy faces that remembrance called back as she sat there and gazed -around. Some tears rose to her eyes, and Mary who had been standing by -gazing at her face, and reading in it with the quick appreciation of -affection all the emotions which brought such shadows over the loved -mother's brow, knelt down beside her, and taking her hand in hers said -earnestly, "Mamma, dear mamma, I know this is painful, but pray for my -sake and Isabella's let the shameful deceit that has been played upon -us produce a good and happy result. You are here in my uncle's house; -be reconciled to him fully, I beseech you. You know that he is -good-humoured notwithstanding all his faults, and I cannot but think -that if those who might have led him to better things had not -withdrawn from him so completely, he might now have been a different -man." - -Mrs. Clifford shook her head mournfully. - -"My dear child," she said, "you know that it is not resentment; it was -your good father who did not feel it consistent with his character and -station to countenance all that takes place here." - -"But for Isabella's sake," said Miss Clifford, earnestly, and before -her mother could answer, the young lady of whom she spoke re-entered -the room with a servant carrying some refreshments. - -"Oh dear aunt," she said, while the wine and water and biscuits were -placed upon a small table at Mrs. Clifford's elbow, "it makes me so -glad to see you, and I have ordered the blue room at the south side to -be got ready for you directly, and then there is the corner one for -Mary, because it has a window both ways, and when she is in a gay mood -she can look out over the meadows and the stream, and when she is in -her high pensiveness she can gaze over the deep woods and hills. Then -she is next to me too, so that she may have merry nonsense on one -side, and grave sense on the other; for I am sure you will stay a long -while with us now you are here, and papa will be so glad." - -"I fear it cannot be very long, my love," replied Mrs. Clifford. "In -the first place I have come it seems uninvited, and in the next place -you know, Isabella, that I am sometimes out of spirits, and perhaps -fastidious, so that all guests do not at all times please me. Who have -you here now? There seemed a large party in the dining-room." - -"Oh, there are several very foolish men," answered Sir John Slingsby's -daughter, laughing, "and one wise one. There is Mr. Dabbleworth, who -was trying to prove to me all dinner-time that I am an electrical -machine; and in the end I told him that I could easily believe he was -one, for he certainly gave me a shock, and Sir James Vestage who -joined in and insisted that instead of electrical machines men were -merely improved monkeys. I told him that I perfectly agreed with him, -and that I saw fresh proofs of it every day. Then up by papa was -sitting old Mr. Harrington, the fox-hunter; what he was saying I do -not know, for I never listen to any thing he says, as it is sure -either to be stupid or offensive. Then there was Charles Harrington, -who lisped a good deal, and thought himself exceedingly pretty, and -Mr. Wharton, the lawyer, who thought deeply and drank deeply, and said -nothing but once." - -"But who was your wise man, dear Isabella?" asked Mary, very willing -to encourage her fair cousin in her light cheerfulness, hoping that it -might win Mrs. Clifford gently from sadder thoughts. - -"Oh, who but good Dr. Miles," answered Miss Slingsby, "who grumbled -sadly at every body, and even papa did not escape, I can assure you. -But all these people will be gone in an hour or two, and in the -meantime I shall have you all alone." - -"Then there is no one staying in the house, Isabella?" said Mrs. -Clifford. "I heard at Tarningham that your father expected some people -from London." - -"Only one, I believe," answered the fair daughter of the house, "but -he has not arrived yet, and perhaps may not. He is a Captain Hayward, -who was ensign in papa's regiment long ago. I never saw him, but -people say 'he's the best fellow in the world.' You know what that -means, Mary: a man that will drink, or hunt, or shoot, or fish with -any body, or every body, and when none of these are to be done, will -go to sleep upon the sofa. Pray, pray do stay, dear aunt, till he is -gone, for I know not what I should do with him in the house by myself. -I positively must get papa to ask somebody else, or get the good -doctor to come up and flirt with him to my heart's content, just as a -diversion from the pleasures of this Captain Hayward's society." - -"A very disagreeable person, I dare say," replied Mary Clifford; "it -is very odd how names are perverted, so that 'a good creature' means a -fool in the world's parlance; 'a very respectable man' is sure to be a -very dull one; and 'the best fellow in the world' is invariably--" - -But her moralising fit was suddenly brought to an end by the door of -the drawing-room being thrown open, and Sir John Slingsby rushing in. - -Stay a moment, reader, and observe him before he advances. Honest Jack -Slingsby! Roystering Sir John! Jolly old Jack! Glorious Johnny! By all -these names was he known, or had been known by persons in different -degrees of acquaintanceship with him. That round and portly form, now -extending the white waistcoat and black-silk breeches, had once been -slim and graceful: that face glowing with the grape in all its -different hues, from the _[oe]il de perdrix_ upon the temples and -forehead to the deep purple of old port in the nose, had once been -smooth and fair. That nose itself, raising itself now into mighty -dominion over the rest of the face, and spreading out, Heaven knows -where, over the map of his countenance, like the kingdom of Russia in -the share of Europe, was once fine and chiselled like Apollo's own. -That thin white hair flaring up into a cockatoo on the top of his head -to cover the well-confirmed baldness, was once a mass of dark curls -that would not have disgraced the brow of Jove. You may see the -remains of former dandyism in the smart shoe, the tight silk-stocking, -the well cut blue-coat; and you may imagine how much activity those -limbs once possessed by the quick and buoyant step with which the -capacious stomach is carried into the room. There is a jauntiness, -too, in the step which would seem to imply that the portion of -youthful vigour and activity, which is undoubtedly gone, has been -parted from with regret, and that he would fain persuade himself and -others that he still retains it in his full elasticity; but yet there -is nothing affected about it either, and perhaps after all it is -merely an effort of the mind to overcome the approach of corporeal -infirmity, and to carry on the war as well as may be. Look at the -good-humoured smile, too, the buoyant, boisterous, overflowing -satisfaction that is radiating from every point of that rosy -countenance. Who on earth could be angry with him? One might be -provoked, but angry one couldn't be. It is evidently the face -of one who takes the world lightly--who esteems nothing as very -heavy--retains no impressions very long--enjoys the hour and its -pleasures to the very utmost, and has no great consciousness of sin or -shame in any thing that he does. He is, in fact, a fat butterfly, who, -though he may have some difficulty in fluttering from flower to -flower, does his best to sip the sweets of all he finds, and not very -unsuccessfully. - -With that same jaunty light step, with that same good-humoured, -well-satisfied smile, Sir John Slingsby advanced straight to his -sister, took her in his arms, gave her a hearty kiss, and shook both -her hands, exclaiming in around, full, juicy voice, almost as fat as -himself, - -"Well, my dear Harriet, I'm very happy to see you; this _is_ kind, -this is very kind indeed; I could hardly believe my ears when the -servants told me you were here, but I left the fellows immediately to -fuddle their noses at leisure, and came to assure myself that it was a -fact. And my dear Mary, too, my little saint, how are you, my dear -girl?" - -"We were brought here, John," replied Mrs. Clifford, "by a very -shameful trick." And she proceeded to explain to him the trick which -had been practised upon her. - -"Gout!" exclaimed Sir John, "gout in the stomach! It would be a -devilish large gout to take up his abode in my stomach, or else he'd -find the house too big for him;" and he laid his hand upon his large -paunch with an air of pride and satisfaction. "Gout! that does not -look like gout I think," and he stuck out his neat foot, and trim -well-shaped ankle; "never had but one threatening of a fit in my life, -and then I cured it in an afternoon--with three bottles of Champagne -and a glass of brandy," he added, in a sort of loud aside to Mary, as -if she would enter into the joke better than her mother. "And so -really, Harriet, you would not have come if you had not thought me -dying. Come, come now, forget and forgive; let bygones be bygones; I -know I am a d--d fool, and do a great many very silly things; but 'pon -my soul I'm very sorry for it, I am indeed; you can't think how I -abominate myself sometimes, and wonder what the devil possesses me. -I'll repent and reform, upon my life I will, Harriet, if you'll just -stay and help me--it's being left all alone to struggle with -temptation that makes me fail so often, but every ten minutes I'm -saying to myself, 'What an old fool you are, Jack Slingsby!' so now -you'll stay like a dear good girl, as you always were, and help to -make my house a little respectable. Forget and forgive, forget and -forgive." - -"My dear John, I have nothing to forgive," answered Mrs. Clifford. -"You know very well that I would do any thing in the world to promote -your welfare, and always wished it, but---" - -"Ay, ay, it was your husband," answered Sir John, bringing an instant -cloud over his sister's face. "Well, he was a good man--an excellent -man--ay, and a kind man too, and he was devilish right after all; I -can't help saying it, though I suffer. In his station what could he -do? An archdeacon and then a dean, it was not to be expected that he -should countenance rioting, and roaring, and drinking, and all that, -as we used to do here; but 'pon my life, Harriet, I'll put an end to -it. Now you shall see, I won't drink another glass to-night, and I'll -send all those fellows away within half an hour, by Jove! I'll just go -back and order coffee in the dining-room, and that'll be a broad hint, -you know. Bella will take care of you in the meantime, and I'll be -back in half an hour--high time I should reform indeed--even that -monkey begins to lecture me. I've got a capital fellow coming down to -stay with me--the best fellow in the world--as gay as a lark, and as -active as a squirrel; yet somehow or other he always kept himself -right, and never played at cards, the dog, nor got drunk either that I -ever saw; yet he must have got drunk too, every man must sometimes, -but he kept it devilish snug if he did--by the by, make yourselves -comfortable." And without waiting to hear his sister's further -adventures on the road, Sir John Slingsby tripped out of the room -again, and notwithstanding all his good resolutions, finished -two-thirds of a bottle of claret while the servants were bringing in -the coffee. - -"Rather a more favourable account of your expected guest, Isabella, -than might have been supposed," said Mrs. Clifford, as soon as Sir -John Slingsby was gone. "A young man who did not drink or play in your -father's regiment, must have been a rare exception; for I am sorry to -say that it had a bad name in those respects long before he got it, -and I believe that it did him a great deal of harm." - -"Papa is so good-humoured," replied Miss Slingsby, "that he lets -people do just what they like with him. I am sure he wishes to do all -that is right." - -Mrs. Clifford was silent for a moment or two, and then turned the -conversation; but in the house of her brother she was rather like a -traveller who, riding through a country, finds himself suddenly and -unexpectedly in the midst of what they call in Scotland a shaking -moss; whichever path she took, the ground seemed to be giving way -under her. She spoke of the old park and the fine trees, and to her -dismay, she heard that Sir John had ordered three hundred magnificent -oaks to be cut down and sold. She spoke of a sort of model farm which -had been her father's pride, and after a moment or two of silence, -Isabella thought it better, to prevent her coming upon the same -subject with her father, by telling her that Sir John, not being fond -of farming, had disposed of it some three months before to Mr. -Wharton, the solicitor. - -"He could not find a tenant easily for it," she continued, "and it -annoyed him to have it unoccupied, so he was persuaded to sell it, -intending to invest the money in land adjoining the rest of the -property." - -"I hope Mr. Wharton gave him a fair price for it?" said Mrs. Clifford. - -"I really don't know," answered her niece; "I dislike that man very -much." - -"And so do I," said Mary Clifford. - -"And so do I," added her mother, thoughtfully. - -Mr. Wharton had evidently not established himself in the favour of the -ladies, and as ladies are always right, he must have been a very bad -man indeed. - -To vary the pleasures of such a conversation, Miss Slingsby soon after -ordered tea, trusting that her father would return before it was over. -Sir John Slingsby's half hour, however, extended itself to an hour and -a half, but then an immense deal of loud laughing and talking, moving -feet, seeking for hats and coats, and ultimately rolling of wheels, -and trotting of horses, was heard in the drawing-room, and the baronet -himself again appeared, as full of fun and good-humour as ever. He -tried, indeed, somewhat to lower the tone of his gaiety, to suit his -sister's more rigid notions; but although he was not in the least -tipsy--and indeed it was a question which might have puzzled Babbage's -calculating machine to resolve what quantity of any given kind of wine -would have affected his brain to the point of inebriety--yet the -potations in which he had indulged had certainly spread a genial -warmth through his bosom, which kept his spirits at a pitch -considerably higher than harmonised very well with Mrs. Clifford's -feelings. - -After about half an hour's conversation, then, she complained of -fatigue, and retired to bed, and was followed by her niece and her -daughter, after the former, at her father's desire, had sung him a -song to make him sleep comfortably. Sir John then stretched his legs -upon a chair to meditate for a minute or two over the unexpected event -of his sister's arrival. But the process of meditation was not one -that he was at all accustomed to, and consequently he did not perform -it with great ease and dexterity. After he had tried it for about -thirty seconds, his head nodded, and then looking up, he said, "Ah!" -and then attempted it again. Fifteen seconds were enough this time; -but his head, finding that it had disturbed itself by its rapid -declension on the former occasion, now sank gradually on his shoulder, -and thence found its way slowly round to his breast. Deep breathing -succeeded for about a quarter of an hour, and then an awful snore, -loud enough to rouse the worthy baronet by his own trumpet. Up he -started, and getting unsteadily upon his legs, rubbed his eyes, and -muttered to himself, "Time to go to bed." Such was the conclusion of -his meditation, and the logical result of the process in which he had -been engaged. - -The next morning, however, at the hour of half-past nine, found Sir -John in the breakfast-room, as fresh, as rosy, and as gay as ever. If -wine had no effect upon his intellect at night, it had none upon his -health and comfort in the morning; the blushing banner that he bore in -his countenance was the only indication of the deeds that he achieved; -and kissing the ladies all round, he sat down to the breakfast-table, -and spent an hour with them in very agreeable chat. He was by no means -ill-informed, not without natural taste, a very fair theoretical -judgment, which was lamentably seldom brought into practice, and he -could discourse of many things, when he liked it, in as gentlemanlike -and reasonable a manner as any man living; while his cheerful -good-humour shed a sunshine around that, in its sparkling warmth, made -men forget his faults and over-estimate his good qualities. He had a -particular tact, too, of palliating errors that he had committed, -sometimes by acknowledging them frankly, and lamenting the infatuation -that produced them, sometimes by finding out excellent good reasons -for doing things which had a great deal better been left undone. Mary -and Isabella had been walking in the park before breakfast, talking of -all those things which young ladies find to converse about when they -have not met for some time; and Sir John, at once aware that his -niece's eye must have marked the destruction going on among the old -trees, asked her in the most deliberate tone in the world, if she had -seen the improvements he was making. - -Mary Clifford replied "No," and looked at her cousin as if for -explanation, and then Sir John exclaimed, - -"God bless my soul, did you not see the alley I am cutting? It will -make the most beautiful vista in the world. First you will go round -from the house by the back of the wood, slowly mounting the hill, by -what we call the Broad Walk, and then when you have reached the top, -you will have a clear view down through a sort of glade, with the old -trees on your right and left hand, over the clumps of young firs in -the bottom, catching the stream here and there, and having the -park-wall quite concealed, till the eye passing over the meadows, just -rests upon Tarningham church, and then running on, gets a view of your -own place Steenham, looking like a white speck on the side of the -hill, and the prospect is closed by the high grounds beyond. My dear -Mary, it is the greatest improvement that ever was made--we will go -and see it." - -Now the real truth was, that Sir John Slingsby, some four or five -months before, had very much wanted three thousand pounds, and he had -determined to convert a certain number of his trees into bank-notes; -but being a man of very good taste, as I have said, he had arranged -the cutting so as to damage his park scenery as little as possible. -Nevertheless, in all he said to Mary Clifford, strange as the -assertion may seem, he was perfectly sincere; for he was one of those -men who always begin by deceiving themselves, and having done that, -can hardly be said to deceive others. It is a sort of infectious -disease they have, that is all, and they communicate it, after having -got it themselves. Before he had cut a single tree, he had perfectly -persuaded himself that to do so would effect the greatest improvement -in the world, and he was quite proud of having beautified his park, -and at the same time obtained three thousand pounds of ready money. - -Doubtless, had the conversation turned that way, he would have found -as good an excuse, as valid a reason, as legitimate a motive, for -selling the model farm; but that not being the case, they went on -talking of different subjects, till suddenly the door opened, the -butler, who was nearly as fat as his master, advanced three steps in a -solemn manner, and announced, "Captain Hayward." - -Sir John instantly started up, and the three ladies raised their eyes -simultaneously, partly with that peculiar sort of curiosity which -people feel when they look into the den of some rare wild beast, and -partly with that degree of interest which we all take in the outward -form and configuration of one of our own species, upon whom depends a -certain portion of the pleasure or pain, amusement or dulness, of the -next few hours. The next moment our friend Ned Hayward was in the -room. He was well-dressed and well-looking, as I have already -described him in his riding costume. Gentleman was in every line and -every movement, and his frank, pleasant smile, his clear, open -countenance were very engaging even at the first sight. Sir John shook -him warmly by the hand, and although the baronet's countenance had so -burgeoned and blossomed since he last saw him, that the young -gentleman had some difficulty in recognising him, his former colonel, -yet Ned Hayward returned his grasp with equal cordiality, and then -looked round, as his host led him up towards Miss Slingsby, and -introduced them to each other. Great was the surprise of both the -baronet and his daughter, to see Mrs. Clifford rise, and with a warm -smile extend her hand to their new guest, and even Mary Clifford -follow her mother's example, and welcome, as if he were an old friend, -the very person with whose name they had seemed unacquainted the night -before. - -"Ah ha, Ned!" cried Sir John; "how is this, boy? Have you been -poaching upon my preserves without my knowing it? 'Pon my life, -Harriet, you have kept your acquaintance with my little ensign quite -snug and secret." - -"It is an acquaintance of a very short date, John," replied Mrs. -Clifford; "but one which has been of inestimable service to me -already." - -And she proceeded in a very few words to explain to her brother the -debt of gratitude she owed to Captain Hayward for his interference the -night before, and for the courtesy he had shown in escorting and -protecting her to the doors of that very house. - -Sir John immediately seized his guest by the two lapels of the coat, -exclaiming, - -"And why the devil didn't you come in, you dog? What, Ned Hayward at -my gates, an expected guest, and not come in! I can tell you we should -have given you a warm reception, fined you a couple of bottles for -being late at dinner, and sent you to bed roaring drunk." - -Ned Hayward gave a gay glance round at the ladies, as if inquiring -whether they thought these were great inducements; he answered, -however, - -"Strange to say, I did not know it was your house, Sir John." - -And now having placed our friend Ned Hayward comfortably between two -excessively pretty girls of very different styles of beauty, and very -different kinds of mind, I shall leave Fate to settle his destiny, and -turn to another scene which had preceded his arrival at Tarningham -House. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. -Ned Hayward and Beauchamp pay a visit to Mr. Wittingham. - - -Man never sees above half of anything, never knows above half of any -thing, never understands above half of any thing; and upon this half -sight, half knowledge, and half understanding, he acts, supplying the -deficiency of his information by a guess at the rest, in which there -is more than an equal chance that he is wrong instead of right. That -is the moral of this chapter. - -After Ned Hayward's interview with Stephen Gimlet, alias Wolf, our -friend turned his steps back towards Tarningham, and arrived at the -White Hart by eight o'clock. About three quarters of an hour had -shaved him, dressed him, and brushed his hair, and down he went to the -little parlour in which he had passed the preceding evening just in -time to find Mr. Beauchamp beginning his breakfast. Although the -latter gentleman shook his companion cordially by the hand, and seemed -to look upon his presence in the parlour as a matter of course, Ned -Hayward thought fit to apologise for his intrusion, adding, "I shall -not maroon myself upon you very long, for soon after breakfast I shall -decamp to Sir John Slingsby's." - -"I am sorry, I assure you, to lose the pleasure of your society so -soon," replied Beauchamp, and then added, addressing the maid, who had -just brought in some broiled ham, "you had better bring some more cups -and saucers, my good girl." - -"And some more ham, and also a cold fowl," added Ned Hayward. "I have -the appetite of an ogre, and if you do not make haste, I must have a -bit out of your rosy cheek, my dear, just to stay my stomach." - -"La, Sir!" cried the maid, with a coquettish little titter; but she -ran away to get what was wanted, as if she were really afraid of the -consequences of Ned Hayward's appetite, and as soon as she was gone, -he said, - -"I have got news for you, Beauchamp; but I will wait till the room is -clear before I give it. I have been up and out, over the hills and -faraway this morning; so I have well earned my breakfast." - -"Indeed!" exclaimed his companion with a look of surprise, "really you -are an active general, but you should have given your fellow-soldiers -information of your movements, and we might have combined operations." - -"There was no time to be lost," answered Hayward. - -But at that moment the maid returned with the cold fowl; the ham was -still in the rear, and it was not till breakfast was half over that -the young officer could tell his tale. When he had got as far with it -as the first explanations of Mr. Gimlet, Beauchamp exclaimed eagerly, -"And what did it turn out to be?" - -"Nothing after all but a love affair," answered Ned. "Now, my dear -Beauchamp, I have as much compassion for all lovers as an old -match-making dowager, and therefore I think it will be better to let -this matter drop quietly." - -"Oh, certainly," answered his new friend, "I am quite as -tender-hearted in such matters as yourself; but are you quite sure of -the fact? for this seems to me to have been a very odd way of making -love." - -"It was so assuredly," replied Hayward, "but nevertheless the -tale is true. The fact is the young lady is an heiress, the mother -strict--most likely the latter looks for some high match for her -daughter, and will not hear of the youth's addresses. He falls into -despair, and with a Roman courage resolves to carry off a bride. -Unfortunately for his purpose, we come up, and the rape of the Sabines -is prevented; but 'pon my honour, I admire the fellow for his spirit. -There is something chivalrous, nay more, feudal about it. He must -fancy himself some old baron who had a right prescriptive to run away -with every man's daughter that suited him; and, on my life, my dear -Beauchamp, I can go on no further in attempting to punish him for a -deed whose hot and proof spirit shames this milk-and-water age. Oh, -the times of carrying off heiresses, of robbing in cocked hats, and -full-bottomed wigs, of pinking one's adversary under the fifth rib in -Leicester Fields, with gentlemen in high shoes and gold lace for -seconds, and chairmen for spectators, when will they come again? Gone, -gone for ever, my dear Beauchamp, into the same box as our -grandmother's brocade-gown, and with them the last spark of the spirit -of chivalry has expired." - -"Very true," answered Beauchamp, smiling at his companion's tirade, -"there was certainly an adventurous turn about those days which saved -them from dulness; but yet there was a primness about them which was -curious, a formality mingling with their wildest excesses, a prudery -with their licentiousness, which can only be attributed to the cut of -their clothes. There is some mysterious link between them, depend upon -it, Hayward, and whether it be that the clothes affect the man, or the -man the clothes, it is not for me to say; but the grand internal -harmony of nature will not be violated, and the spirit of the age is -represented in the coats, waistcoats, and breeches of the people of -the period much better than in all the stupid books written from time -to time to display it." - -This was the first sentence that Ned Hayward had ever heard his -companion speak in a jocular tone, but Beauchamp immediately went on -in a graver manner to say, "Yet, after all, I do not see how we can -drop this matter entirely. Far be it from me, of all men on earth, to -persecute another, but yet, having already given information of this -attempt at robbery, as it seemed to us, and tendered our evidence on -oath, we cannot well draw back. A gross offence has indubitably been -committed, not only in the attack upon these two ladies, but also in -the very violent and murderous resistance which was made when we -arrived to their rescue; and this young gentleman should have a -warning at least." - -"To be sure, to be sure," answered Ned Hayward, "I have got the pistol -ball singing in my ear now, and I am quite willing to give him a -fright, and old Wittingham too. The latter I will, please Heaven, -torment out of the remnant of seven senses that he has left, for a -more pompous, vulgar old blockhead I never saw; and therefore I should -propose at once--that is to say, as soon as I have done this cup of -coffee--you have finished I see--to go to good Mr. Wittingham's and -belabour him with our small wits till he is nearly like the man who -was scourged to death with rushes." - -"Nay, nothing quite so sanguinary as that, I trust," said Beauchamp, -"but I will accompany you willingly and see fair play between you and -the magistrate." - -According to this arrangement, as soon as breakfast was over, and Ned -Hayward had given some directions with regard to preparing his horse, -his baggage, and a conveyance for the latter, the two gentlemen -sallied forth to the magistrate's room in the town, where they found -Mr. Wittingham seated with a clerk, the inferior attorney of the -place. The latter was a man well fitted to prompt an ignorant and -self-conceited magistrate in a matter of difficulty, if its importance -were not very great, and he knew all the particulars. He was a little -fat compact man, in form, feature, and expression very like a Chinese -pig. His nose had the peculiar turn-up of the snout of that animal, -his small eyes the same sagacious twinkle, his retreating under-jaw -the same voracious and ever-ready look, and when at all puzzled he -would lift his head and give a peculiar snort, so exceedingly porcine -in its tone, that one could scarcely divest one's self of the idea -that he was one of the mud-loving herd. - -On the present occasion, indeed, he was ignorant of the facts of the -case about to be brought before Mr. Wittingham. The latter gentleman -having considered with great solicitude whether he should make him -acquainted with all that had occurred and seek his advice and -co-operation. But Mr. Wittingham was cautious, exceedingly cautious, -as I have already shown, when no strong passion caused him to act in a -decided manner upon the spur of the moment. His natural impulse might -indeed be vehement, and he frequently had to repeat to himself that -sage adage, "The least said is soonest mended," before he could get -himself to refrain from saying a word to the clerk, Mr. Bacon, except -that two men had come to him the night before with a cock-and-a-bull -story about a highway robbery of which he did not believe a word, and -they were to come again that morning, when he should sift them -thoroughly. - -Now it is wonderful how the very least bits of art will frequently -betray the artist. Mr. Wittingham merely said, "Two men," which led -his clerk, Mr. Bacon, to suppose that he had never seen either of the -two men before; but when Mr. Beauchamp appeared, in company with Ned -Hayward, and the clerk recollected that the magistrate had very -frequently wondered in his presence, who Mr. Beauchamp could be, and -had directed him to make every sort of inquiry, he naturally said to -himself, "Ha, ha, Wittingham has got something that he wishes to -conceal; if not, why didn't he say at once that Beauchamp was one of -the two. There's a screw loose somewhere, that's clear." - -On Ned Hayward the clerk's small eyes fixed with a keen, inquisitive, -and marvelling glance, as with his gay dashing air, half military, -half sporting, firm and yet light, measured and yet easy, he advanced -into the room and approached the table. It was a sort of animal that -Mr. Bacon had never seen in his life before, and he looked just like a -young pig when it sees a stagecoach dash by, standing firm for a -minute, but ready in an instant to toss up its snout, curl up its -tail, and caper off with a squeak as fast as it can go. - -"Well, Mr. Witherington," said Ned Hayward, perfectly aware that -nothing so much provokes a pompous man as mistaking his name, "here we -are according to appointment, and doubtless you are ready to take our -depositions, Mr. Witherington." - -"Wittingham, Sir," said the magistrate, impressively, laying a strong -emphasis on each syllable, "I beg you'll give me my own name, and -nobody else's." - -"Ay, ay, Whittington," said Ned Hayward, with the utmost composure, "I -forgot; I knew it was some absurd name in an old ballad or story, and -confounded you somehow or other with the man in 'Chevy Chase' who - - - When his legs were smitten off, - He fought upon his stumps. - - -But I remember now, you're the son of the Lord Mayor of London, the -cat-man." - -"No, Sir, no," exclaimed Mr. Wittingham, whose face had turned purple -with rage, "I am not his son, and you must be a fool to think so, for -he died two hundred years ago." - -"Oh, I know nothing of history," said Ned Hayward, laughing, "and -besides, I dare say it's all a fable." - -"This gentleman's name is Wittingham, Sir," said the clerk, "W-I-T-wit, -T-I-N-G-ting, H-A-M ham, Wittingham." - -"Oh, thank you, thank you, Sir," said the young gentleman, "I shan't -forget it now, '_Littera scripta manet_,' Mr. What's-your-name?" - -"My name is Bacon, Sir," said the clerk, with a grunt. - -"Ah, very well, very well," replied Ned Hayward, "now to business. -Wittingham, Bacon, and Co., I shan't forget that; an excellent good -firm, especially when the junior partner is cut into rashers and well -roasted. We are here, Sir, to tender information upon oath, when it -can no longer be of any avail, which we tendered last night, when it -might have been of avail, in regard to an attempt at highway robbery -committed yesterday evening upon the persons of two ladies in this -neighbourhood, namely, Mrs. Clifford and her daughter." - -"Tendered last night, Sir!" exclaimed the clerk, in spite of a -tremendous nudge from Mr. Wittingham, "pray whom did you tender it -to?" - -"To the right reverend gentleman on the bench," said Ned Hayward, with -a profound bow to the worthy magistrate; and then looking at him full -in the face with a significant smile, the young gentleman added, "he -refused to take our depositions on secret motives, or information of -his own, which as it was kept in the profound depth of his mind, I -will not pretend to penetrate." - -Mr. Wittingham was in a state of most distressing perplexity. His -fears were a powder magazine, Ned Hayward's smile was a spark, and -there was a terrible explosion in his chest, which had nearly blown -the window out. - -"I--I--you see, Bacon," he whispered to the clerk, "I thought it was -all nonsense, I was sure it was all nonense--you may see by the -fellow's manner that it is so--Who'd attend to such stuff?" - -"I don't know, Sir," said the clerk, "magistrates are bound to take -informations of felonies tendered on oath; but we shall soon see who -he is; we'll swear him," and taking up a paper from the table he began -to write, lifting up his head after a moment and inquiring, "What is -your name and profession?" - -"My name is Edward Hayward," answered our friend, "late captain in His -Majesty's 40th regiment, now unattached." - -Mr. Wittingham's face grew blanker and blanker. Yamen's own could not -have looked a more russetty brown. He did not know how to interfere -with the clerk, or how to proceed himself; but at length, after sundry -hums and haws, he said, "I think we had better hear the whole story -first, and then take down the deposition if we should find it -necessary. If Mrs. Clifford was robbed, or attempted to be robbed, why -the devil doesn't Mrs. Clifford come to give me information herself? I -see no reason why we should suffer such accounts to be gone into by -deputy. The offence was against Mrs. Clifford, and we shall always be -ready to balance." - -"The offence was against the law of the land, Sir," said Mr. -Beauchamp, stepping forward, "and we who witnessed the offence, and -prevented it from being carried further, now come forward to demand -that interference of justice which cannot be refused, without great -danger to those who deny it." - -"Well, well," said Mr. Wittingham, "I am not going to deny it; let us -hear your story, and as you are one of the informers, be so good as to -favour us with your name, profession, &c." - -"My name, Sir, is Beauchamp," replied the gentleman he addressed, -"profession, I am sorry to say, I have none." - -"Ah," said the magistrate drily, but the clerk whispered sharply in -his ear: "He has two thousand pounds in the bank, paid in the day -before yesterday. Jenkins told me last night at the Free and Easy, so -it's all a mistake about his being--you know what." - -The clerk had a reverence for gentlemen who had two thousand pounds at -one time in a country bank--much greater reverence than for captains -of infantry unattached; and consequently he proceeded to take Mr. -Beauchamp's deposition first, with all due respect, notwithstanding -every thing Mr. Wittingham could do to embarrass his course of -operations. Then came Ned Hayward's turn, but our good friend thought -fit to be more serious when an oath had been administered, and -delivered his evidence with gravity and propriety. As soon, however, -as Mr. Wittingham began to meddle with the matter again, and to treat -the affair as one of little consequence, and not deserving much -consideration, the spirit of malicious fun seized upon Ned once more, -and he said with a mysterious air, "Sir, I beg you will give this your -most serious attention, for you cannot yet tell what parties may be -implicated. In giving our testimony of course we speak to facts alone. -I have strictly confined myself to what I saw, and have not even -mentioned one circumstance of which I have even a shade of doubt; but -without interfering with your business, Mr. Skittington--for I never -take another man's trade upon me--yet I shall certainly feel myself -called upon to investigate quietly, and by all lawful means, the whole -particulars of this business. That a felony has been committed there -can be no doubt; two pistols were fired at me with intent to take my -life, or do me some grievous bodily harm; one ball went through my -hair, and the matter is a very grave one, which may probably bring -some respectable persons into a noose under a gallows. Look to it, -look to it, Mr. Whittington, for I shall certainly look to it myself." - -"Well, Sir, well, do any thing you please," said the magistrate, "I -will do my duty without being tutored by you. I consider your conduct -very disrespectful and--" - -But ere he could finish the sentence the door of the justice-room -opened, and a young man entered dressed in the garb of a gentleman. -Mr. Wittingham's face turned as pale as death, and Ned Hayward fixed -his eyes for an instant--a single instant--upon the countenance of the -new comer. It was by no means a prepossessing one, and the expression -was not improved by a black handkerchief being tied over one eye, and -hiding part of the nose and cheek. The young officer instantly -withdrew his eyes, and fixed them sternly on the ground. "This is too -impudent," he thought, and there was a momentary hesitation in his -mind as to whether he should not at once point out the intruder as the -chief offender in the acts lately under discussion. Good-nature, -however prevailed, and while Henry Wittingham advanced straight to his -father's side, and with a look of bold fierceness whispered a word in -his ear, Ned Hayward turned to the door, saying, "Come, Beauchamp, our -business here is over, and I must go up to Sir John Slingsby's." - -Beauchamp followed him, after giving a sharp glance at Henry -Wittingham, and at the door of the house they saw a horse standing -which seemed to have been ridden hard. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. -In which a very young Actor makes an unexpected Appearance on the -Scene. - - -Mr. Beauchamp was sitting alone in the little room of the inn about -five hours after Ned Hayward had left him. The day had been very warm -for the season of the year, and though he had taken his walk as usual -in the most shady and pensive places he could discover, he had found -it oppressive, and had returned sooner than he ordinarily did. Mr. -Groomber, worthy Mr. Groomber, the landlord of the White Hart, had -perceived his return through the glass-doors of the bar, and had -rolled in to tell him, as a piece of news, that the post-boy who had -driven Mrs. and Miss Clifford had been, as he termed it, "had up" -before Mr. Wittingham and examined, but had been speedily dismissed, -he having sworn most valorously that he could not identify any of the -persons concerned in stopping the chaise on the preceding night. - -Mr. Beauchamp merely replied, "I thought so," and taking up a book, -gave quiet intimation that he wished to be alone. As soon as the host -had retired, however, he suffered the open volume to drop upon his -knee, and gave himself up to thought, apparently of not the most -cheerful kind, for the broad open brow became somewhat contracted, the -fine dark eyes fixed upon one particular spot on the floor, the lip -assumed a melancholy, even a cynical expression, and without moving -limb or feature, he remained for at least a quarter of an hour in -meditation most profound. - -For my own part I do not see what business men have to think at all. -If it be of the past, can they recall it? If it be of the future, can -they govern it? No, no, and the present is for action, not for -meditation. It was very foolish of Mr. Beauchamp to think, but yet he -did so, and profoundly. But of what were his thoughts? I cannot tell. -Some I know, some I do not know; or rather like an intercepted letter, -the actual course of his meditation was plain enough, written in clear -and forcible lines, but the wide world of circumstances to which it -referred, its relations with his fate, with his past history, with his -present condition, with his future prospects, were all in darkness. - -"It is in vain," he said to himself, "all in vain! Peace, happiness, -tranquillity--where do they dwell? Are they the mere phantasms of -man's ever-building imaginations? creations of fancy to satisfy the -craving need of the soul? And yet some men can obtain them. This very -Captain Hayward, he seems at least as well contented, as well -satisfied with himself, the world, and all the world gives, as it is -possible to conceive. But it is not so--it cannot be so. There is a -black spot somewhere, I am sure--some bitter memory, some disappointed -hope, some aspiration ever desired. He owned he dared not venture to -love--is not that to be in a continued chain, to bear a fetter about -one? and yet he seemed contented with such a fate. It is the -regulation of our desires that makes us happy, the bounding them to -our means--ay, with those who have no already existing cause for -sorrow, but the cup of our fate is ever open for each passing hand to -drop a poison into it, and once there, it pervades the whole--the -whole? by every drop down to the very dregs, turning the sweetness and -the spirit of the wine of life to bitterness and death. What is it -that I want that can make existence pleasant? Wealth, health, a mind -carefully trained and furnished with the keys to every door of mental -enjoyment--with love for my fellow-creatures, good will to all men, I -have all--surely all; but, alas! I have memory too, and like the -pillar of the cloud, it sometimes follows me, darkening the past, -sometimes goes before me, obscuring the future. Yet this is -very weak. An effort of the mind--the mind I have vainly thought so -strong--should surely suffice to cast off the load. I have tried -occupation, calm enjoyments, fair scenes, tranquil pleasures, peaceful -amusements. Perhaps in a more fiery and eager course, in active, -energetic pursuits in passions that absorb all the feelings, and wrap -the soul in their own mantle, I may find forgetfulness. In all that I -have hitherto done--there have been long intervals--open gates for -bitter memory to enter, and the very nature of my chosen objects has -invited her. Oh, yes, there must be such a thing as happiness: that -girl's fair joyous face, her smile teeming with radiance, told me so. -But I will not think of her. She is too bright, and fair, and happy to -be made a partner in so hazardous a speculation as mine. I will go -away from this place: it has given my mind some little repose, and I -could have made a friend of that light, good-humoured Hayward if he -would have let me--but he has left me too--all things leave me, I -think. Well, he is gone, and I will go too--'tis not worth while -lingering longer." - -At this point of his meditations some horses passed the window, and -shadows darkened the room; but Beauchamp took no notice, till he heard -a voice which had become somewhat familiar to him during the last -eighteen hours, exclaiming, "Ostler, ostler!" and in a moment after -Ned Hayward was in the room again, but not alone. He was followed by -the portly figure of Sir John Slingsby, dressed in riding costume, and -though somewhat dusty, and certainly very round and heavy, yet bearing -that undefinable and almost ineffaceable look of a gentleman which not -even oddities and excesses had been able to wipe out. - -Ned Hayward's words were few and soon spoken: "Mr. Beauchamp, Sir John -Slingsby; Sir John, Mr. Beauchamp," were all he said, but the old -baronet soon took up the conversation, shaking his new acquaintance -warmly by the hand. - -"Glad to see you, Mr. Beauchamp, very glad to see you. I find my -family are under a great obligation to you--that is to say, my sister -Harriet, Mrs. Clifford. Devilish impudent thing, by Jove, for those -fellows to attack a carriage at that time of the evening, and very -lucky you happened to be there, for my friend Ned Hayward here--though -he has a notion of tactics, haven't you, Ned?--and is a stout -fellow--could hardly have managed three of them." - -"I look upon myself as very fortunate, Sir John," replied Mr. -Beauchamp, "in having taken my evening walk in that direction; but at -the same time, it is but fair to acknowledge that my share in the -rescue of your sister and her daughter was but small. I only kept one -man in play, while Captain Hayward had to contend with two." - -"All the same! all the same, my dear Sir," said the baronet; "the -reserve shares all the glory of a battle even if it does not pull a -trigger. The ladies, however, are exceedingly obliged to you--very -good girls both of them--not that they have commissioned me to express -their thanks, far from it, for they are particularly anxious to do so -themselves if you will give them the opportunity; and therefore they -have begged me to ask if you would favour us by your company at dinner -to-day, and to say that they will be devilish sorry if any previous -engagement should prevent you, though they calculate upon to-morrow, -if not to-day." - -"I am quite an anchorite here, Sir John," answered Mr. Beauchamp, with -a grave smile; but before he could finish his sentence, the old -baronet, thinking it was the commencement of an excuse, hastened to -stop it, saying, - -"Quite a quiet dinner, I assure you--all as grave and proper as -possible; no drinking, no laughing, no fun--all upon our good -behaviour. There will be nobody but you, Ned Hayward, I, and the -doctor there; Harriet, Mary, and my girl--who, by the way, says she -knows you--has seen you twice at the good doctor's--Doctor Miles's." - -"I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Slingsby," said Beauchamp. "I -was only about to answer you just now, Sir John, that I am quite an -anchorite here, and therefore not likely to have many invitations to -dinner. As I have not much cultivated the people of the place, they -have not much cultivated me; and I believe they look upon me as a -somewhat suspicious character, especially our friend Mr. Wittingham, -who I find has been very curious in his inquiries as to whether I pay -my bills, and where I go to when I walk out." - -"Wittingham's an old fool!" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, "and like all -other old fools, he thinks himself the wisest man in the world. I -wonder what the lord-lieutenant could be dreaming of when he put him -in the commission of the peace--a man no more fit for it than my -horsewhip. I'll pay him for it all--I'll pay him--ask him to -dinner--make him beastly drunk, and lodge him for the night in a -horse-trough." - -"I hope not this evening, Sir John," said Beauchamp, with a smile. - -"Oh dear no," replied the baronet, with a look of rueful fear, "all -very prim to-night--all as grave as judges--quite proper and discreet -while my sister Harriet is with us--an archdeacon's widow, you know--a -dean's, after all--though he was only dean for a couple of months--a -very good man indeed, but exceedingly proper, terribly proper: the -very sound of a cork frightened him out of his wits. I do believe he -fancied that port and Madeira are sent over in decanters, and claret -in jugs with handles. However, you'll come, that's settled: half-past -five, old-fashioned hours, gives plenty of time after dinner. But now -that's no use," added the baronet, with a sigh, "we might as well dine -at seven now--no use of a long evening. However, the girls will give -us a song, or music of some kind, and perhaps we can make up a rubber -at long whist, which will make us sleep as sound as dormice. No sin in -that--no, Ned." - -"None in the world, Sir John," answered Ned Hayward, "but a great deal -of dulness. I never could make out in my life how men, with their wits -about them, could spend hours throwing bits of painted pasteboard in a -particular order for shillings and sixpences." - -"Just as reasonable as standing up for hours to be showed for -shillings and sixpences," answered Sir John Slingsby, "and both you -and I have played at that, you dog. Every thing is folly if you take -it in the abstract--love, war, wine, ambition; and depend upon it, -Ned, the lightest follies are the best--isn't it so, Mr. Beauchamp?" - -"There is indeed some truth in what you say, Sir John," replied -Beauchamp, with a thoughtful smile; "and I believe amusing follies are -better than serious ones--at least I begin to think so now." - -"To be sure, to be sure," answered Sir John Slingsby; "man was made -for fun and not for sadness. It's a very nice world if people would -let it be so. Oh, we'll show you some sport, Mr. Beauchamp, before we -have done with you; but to-day you know we'll all be very proper--very -good boys indeed--and then when the cat's away the mice will play. Ha! -ha! ha! At half-past five, you know, and in the meantime, Ned and I -will ride off and abuse old Wittingham. I'll give him a pretty -lecture." - -Good Sir John was disappointed however; his horses, his groom, and his -bulky person had all been seen from the windows of Mr. Wittingham's -house as he rode into the town with Ned Hayward, and as a matter of -course, Mr. Wittingham was over the hills and far away before the -visit to Mr. Beauchamp was concluded. - -When Sir John and Ned Hayward left him, Beauchamp remained for some -minutes with a smile upon his countenance--a meditative--nay, a -melancholy smile. - -"So fleet our resolutions," he said to himself, "so fade away our -schemes and purposes. Who can say in this life what he will do and -what he will not do the next day--nay, the next minute? Which is the -happiest after all, the man who struggles with fate and circumstance, -and strives to perform the impracticable task of ruling them, or he -who, like a light thing upon the waters, suffers himself to be carried -easily down the current, whirling round with every eddy, resting -quietly in the still pool, or dashing gaily down the rapids? Heaven -knows, but at all events, fate has shown herself so resolute to take -my affairs into her own hands, that I will not try to resist her. I -will indulge every whim, and leave fortune to settle the result. I may -as well purchase that property: it is as good an investment as any -other, I dare say, and if not, it does not much signify. I will write -to my agent to transmit the money to-day." - -With this resolution he sat down, and had soon despatched a few lines, -which he carried to the post himself; then strolled out of the town -for an hour, and then returned to dress, ordering a post-chaise for -Tarningham House. - -How different are the sensations with which one goes out to dinner at -different times--ay, even when it is to the house of a new -acquaintance, where we have little means of judging previously whether -our day will be pleasant or unpleasant, joyous or sad. As there must -be more than one party to each compact, and as the age and its object -act and react upon each other, so the qualities of each have their -share in the effect upon either, and the mood of the visitor has at -least as much to do with the impression that he receives as the mood -of the host. Wonderfully trite, is it not, reader? It has been said a -thousand times before, but it will not do you the least harm to have -it repeated, especially as I wish you clearly to understand the mood -in which Mr. Beauchamp went, for the first time, to the house of Sir -John Slingsby. It was then in that of an indifferent mood of which I -have shown some indications, by describing what was passing in his -mind after the baronet and Ned Hayward left him. There are, however, -various sorts of indifferent moods; there is the gay indifferent, -which is very commonly called, devil-me-carish-ness; then there is the -impertinent indifference, with a dash of persiflage in it, just to -take off the chili--as men put brandy into soda-water--which very -empty and conceited men assume to give them an air of that superiority -to which they are entitled by no mental quality. Then there is the -indifference of despair, and the indifference of satiety. But none of -these was the exact sort of indifference which Mr. Beauchamp felt, or -thought he felt. It was a grave indifference, springing from a sort of -morbid conviction that the happiness or unhappiness of man is not at -all in his own hands, or that if it be at all so, it is only at his -outset in life, and that the very first step so affects the whole -course of after events, as to place the control over them totally -beyond his own power. It is a bad philosophy, a very unsafe, untrue, -unwise philosophy, and a great author has made it the philosophy of -the devil: - - - Thus we - In our first choice are ever free; - Choose, and the right of choice is o'er, - We who were free, are free no more. - - -So says Göthe, according to Auster's beautiful translation, and I -think it much better to give that translation which every body can -understand, than the original which one half of my readers cannot, and -which would not be a bit better if they could. - -Now Mr. Beauchamp was not the devil, or any thing the least like it, -but yet this philosophy had been driven into him by his own previous -history, and though he often resisted its influence, and strove to -struggle with it, and by new acts to shape a new fate, yet he had been -so often disappointed in the attempt, he had found every course, -indeed, so constantly lead to the same result, that the philosophy -returned as soon as the effort was over, and he looked upon almost -every event with indifference, as destined to end in one manner, and -that not a pleasant one. - -Nevertheless, he could enjoy for the time: there was no man by nature -better fitted for enjoyment. He had a fondness for every thing that -was great and beautiful; for every thing that was good and noble; he -loved flowers, and birds, and music, and the fair face of nature. His -breast was full of harmonies, but unfortunately the tones were never -prolonged; to borrow a simile from the musical instrument, there was a -damper that fell almost as soon as the chord was struck, and the -sound, sweet as it might be, ceased before the music was complete. - -In driving along, however, the post-boy went somewhat slowly, and with -a peculiarly irritating jog in the saddle, which would have sadly -disturbed a person of a less indifferent mind--there was plenty of -room for pleasant observation if not reflection. The road ran through -wooded groves, and often turned along the bank of the stream. At times -it mounted over a hill-side, and showed beyond a rich and leafy -foreground, the wide extended landscape, undulating away towards the -horizon, with the lines of wood and slope beautifully marked in the -aerial perspective, and filling the mind with vague imaginations of -things that the eye could not define. It dipped down into a valley -too, and passed through a quiet, peaceful little village, with a group -of tall silver poplars before the church, and a congregation of fine -old beech trees around the rectory. The whole aspect of the place was -home tranquillity; that of a purely English village under the most -favourable circumstances. Cleanliness, neatness, rustic ornament, an -air of comfort, a cheerful openness, a look of healthfulness. How -different from the villages one sometimes sees, alas! in every -country; but less in England than anywhere else in the wide world, the -abodes of fever, dirt, penury, wretchedness. - -As he passed the rectory, with its smooth, well-mown lawn, and green -gates, Beauchamp put his head to the carriage-window and looked out. -He expected to see, perhaps, a neat one-horse chaise at the door, and -a sleek, well-fed beast to draw it; but there was nothing of the kind -there, and he remarked the traces of a pair of wheels from the gates -on the road before him. Half a mile further were the gates of Sir John -Slingsby's park. It cannot be said that they were in very good order, -the iron-work wanted painting sadly, one or two of the bars had got a -sad twist, the columns of stone-work to which they were fixed needed -pointing, if not more solid repairs. The lodge had all the shutters -up, and the post-boy had to get down and open the gates. - -Beauchamp sighed, not because he took any great interest in the place -or the people it contained, but because the aspect of desolation--of -the decay of man's works--especially from neglect, is well worth a -sigh. The drive through the park, however, was delightful. Old trees -were all around, glorious old trees, those ever-growing monuments of -the past, those silent leafy chroniclers of ages gone. Who planted -them, who nourished, who protected them? what times have they seen, -what deeds have they witnessed, what storms have passed over them, -what sunshine have they drunk, what sorrows, and what joys have -visited the generations of man, since first they sprang up from the -small seed till now, when they stretch out their giant arms to shelter -the remote posterity of those whom they have seen flourish and pass -away? Who can wander among old trees, and not ask such questions, ay, -and a thousand more. - -The sight was pleasant to Mr. Beauchamp, it had a serious yet pleasing -effect upon his mind, and when the chaise drew up at the door of -Tarningham House, he felt more disposed than before to enjoy the -society within, whatever it might be. - -The outer door was open, the fat butler threw open pompously the two -glass doors within, a couple of round footmen, whose lineaments were -full of ale, flanked the hall on either side, and thus Mr. Beauchamp -was marshalled to the drawing-room, which he entered with his calm and -dignified air, not in the slightest degree agitated, although he was -well aware that two very pretty faces were most likely looking for his -arrival. - -Sir John Slingsby in the blue coat, the white waistcoat, the black -breeches and stockings, with the rubicund countenance and white hair, -advanced at once to receive him, and presented him to Mrs. Clifford -and her daughter. - -"This young lady you already know, Mr. Beauchamp," he said, pointing -to his daughter, "so I shan't introduce you here." - -But that gentleman shook hands with Miss Slingsby first, proving that -their acquaintance, however short, had made some steps towards -friendship. - -Isabella was a little fluttered in her manner, why, she scarcely knew -herself, and the colour grew a little deeper in her cheek, and her -smile wavered, as if she would fain have seemed not too well pleased. -All this, however, did not at all take from her beauty, for as a fair -scene is never lovelier than when the shadows of drifting clouds are -passing over it, so a pretty face is never prettier than under the -influence of slight emotions. - -Miss Slingsby and Mary Clifford were standing both together, so that -Beauchamp had both those sweet faces before him at once. Isabella was -as fair as a lily with eyes of a deep blue, and warm brown hair, -neither light nor dark, clustering richly round her brow and cheek in -wilful curls that would have their own way. Mary Clifford was darker -in complexion, with the hair braided on her brow, there was deep but -gentle thought in her dark eyes, and though the short chiselled upper -lip could at times bear a joyous smile enough, yet the general -expression was grave though not melancholy. - -Beauchamp was a serious man, of a calm, quiet temper, somewhat -saddened by various events which had befallen him, but which of those -two faces, reader, think you he admired the most? The gay one, to be -sure, the one the least like himself. So it is wisely ordained by -nature, and it is the force of circumstances alone that ever makes us -choose a being precisely similar to ourselves to be our companion -through existence. Two tones, exactly the same, even upon different -instruments produce unison not harmony, and so it is throughout all -nature. - -After a few words to Isabella, Mr. Beauchamp turned again to Mrs. -Clifford, who at once spoke of their adventure of the night before, -and thanked him for his kind assistance. Beauchamp said all that -courtesy required, and said it gracefully and well. He expressed the -pleasure that he felt to see that neither of the ladies had suffered -from the fear or agitation they had undergone, and expressed great -satisfaction at having been near the spot at the moment the attack was -made. - -While they were speaking, Sir John Slingsby had twice taken out his -watch--it was a large one, hanging by a thick gold chain, and Mr. -Beauchamp, thinking that he divined the cause of his disquiet, -observed with a smile, - -"Dr. Miles must be here, I think, for judging by small signs, such as -the traces of wheels and an open gate, I imagine that he had left home -before I passed." - -"Oh yes, he is here," answered Sir John Slingsby, "he has been here -ten minutes, but the old boy, who is as neat in his person as in his -ideas, had got a little dust upon his black coat, and is gone to brush -it off and wash his hands. That open chaise of his costs him more time -in washing and brushing, than writing his sermons; but I can't think -what has become of that fellow, Ned Hayward. The dog went out two -hours ago for a walk through the park up to the moor, and I suppose -'thoughtless Ned,' as we used to call him, has forgotten that we dine -at half-past five. Well, we won't wait for him; as soon as the doctor -comes we will order dinner, and fine him a bumper for being late." - -While he was speaking, Dr. Miles, the clergyman of the village through -which Beauchamp had passed, entered the room, and shook him warmly by -the hand. He was a tall, spare man, with a look of florid health in -his countenance, and snow-white hair; his face was certainly not -handsome, and there was a grave and somewhat stern expression in it, -but yet it was pleasing, especially when he smiled, which, to say the -truth, was not often. It may seem a contradiction in terms to say that -he laughed oftener than he smiled, yet so it was, for his laugh was -not always good-humoured, especially in the house of Sir John -Slingsby. There was from time to time, something bitter and cynical in -it, and generally found vent when any thing was said, the folly of -which he thought exceeded the wickedness. He was one of the few men of -perfect respectability who was a constant visitor at Tarningham House; -but the truth was, that he was the rector of Sir John Slingsby's -parish. Now no consideration of tithes, perquisites, good dinners, -comforts, and conveniences, would have induced Dr. Miles to do any -thing that he thought wrong, but he argued in this manner:-- - -"Sir John Slingsby is an old fool, and one who is likely to get worse -instead of better, if nobody of more rational views, higher feelings, -and more reasonable pursuits takes any notice of him. Now I, from my -position, am bound to do the best I can to bring him to a better state -of mind. I may effect something in this way, by seeing him frequently -at all events, I can do much to prevent his becoming worse; my -presence is some check upon these people, and even if it does little -good to the father, there is that sweet, dear, amiable girl, who needs -some support and comfort in her unpleasant situation." - -Such were some of the considerations upon which Dr. Miles acted. There -were many more indeed, but these are enough for my purpose. He shook -Beauchamp warmly by the hand, as we have seen, and seemed to be more -intimate with him than any body in the room, taking him aside, and -speaking to him for a moment or two in private, while Sir John -Slingsby rang the bell, and ordered dinner without waiting for Captain -Hayward. - -"William Slack, Sir John, has seen him," said the butler, "coming down -the long avenue with something in his arms--he thinks it's a fawn." - -"Well then, he'll be here soon," said the master of the mansion, -"serve dinner, serve dinner, by Jove, I won't wait. Devil take the -fellow, the ensign shouldn't keep his colonel waiting. It's not -respectful. I'll fine him two bumpers if the soup's off before he -makes his appearance." - -In the meantime the first words of Dr. Miles to Mr. Beauchamp were, "I -have made the inquiries, my dear Sir, according to your request, and -it is well worth the money. It will return they say four per cent. -clear, which in these times is well enough." - -"I have already determined upon it," said Beauchamp, "and have written -to London about it." - -"Ay, ay," said the worthy doctor, "just like all the rest of the -world, my young friend, asking for advice, and acting without it." - -"Not exactly," answered Beauchamp, "you told me before what you -thought upon the subject, and I knew you were not one to express an -opinion except upon good grounds. The only question is now what lawyer -I can employ here to arrange minor matters. The more important must, -of course, be referred to my solicitors in London." - -"We have no great choice," replied Dr. Miles, "there are but two in -Tarningham, thank God. The one is a Mr. Wharton, the other a Mr. -Bacon, neither of them particularly excellent specimens of humanity; -but in the one the body is better than the mind, in the other the mind -better than the body." - -"Probably I should like the latter best," answered Beauchamp, "but -pray, my dear doctor, give me a somewhat clearer knowledge of these -two gentlemen for my guidance." - -"Well then though I do not love in general to say aught in -disparagement of my neighbours behind their backs," Dr. Miles replied, -"I must, I suppose, be more definite. Mr. Wharton is a quiet, silent -man, gentlemanlike in appearance and in manners, cautious, plausible, -and affecting friendship for his clients. I have never known him set -the poor by the ears for the sake of small gains, or promote -dissensions amongst farmers in order to make by a law-suit. On the -contrary, I have heard him dissuade from legal proceedings, and say -that quarrels are very foolish things." - -"A good sort of person," said Beauchamp. - -"Hear the other side, my dear Sir," rejoined the doctor, "such game as -I have been speaking of is too small for him. He was once poor; he is -now very rich. I have rarely heard of his having a client who somehow -did not ruin himself; and although I do not by any means intend to say -that I have been able to trace Mr. Wharton's hand in their -destruction, certain it is that the bulk of the property--at least a -large share of what they squandered or lost has found its way into his -possession. I have seen him always ready to smooth men's way to -destruction, to lend money, to encourage extravagance, to lull -apprehension, to embarrass efforts at retrenchment, and then when the -beast was in the toils, to despatch it and take his share. No mercy -then when ruin is inevitable; the lawyer must be paid, and must be -paid first." - -"And now for Mr. Bac on?" said Beauchamp. - -"Why he is simply a vulgar little man," answered the clergyman, -"coarse in manners and in person: cunning and stolid, but with a -competent knowledge of law; keen at finding out faults and flaws. His -practice is in an inferior line to the other's, but he is at all -events safer, and I believe more honest." - -"How do you mean, cunning and stolid?" asked Beauchamp, "those two -qualities would seem to me incompatible." - -"Oh dear no," replied Dr. Miles; but before he could explain, the -butler announced dinner, and as Sir John gave his arm to Mrs. -Clifford, Beauchamp advanced towards Isabella. The doors were thrown -wide open, and the party were issuing forth to cross the vestibule to -the dining-room, when suddenly Sir John and his sister halted, -encountered by an apparition which certainly was unexpected in the -form that it assumed. In fact they had not taken two steps out of the -drawing-room ere the glass doors were flung open, and Ned Hayward -stood before them as unlike the Ned Hayward I first presented to the -reader as possible. His coat was covered with a dull whitish gray -powder, his linen soiled, and apparently singed, his hands and face as -black as soot, his glossy brown hair rugged and burnt, no hat upon his -head, and in his arms a very pretty boy of about two years old, or a -little more perhaps, on whose face were evident marks of recent tears, -though he seemed now pacified, and was staring about with large eyes -at the various objects in the large house to which he was just -introduced. - -"Why Ned, Ned, Ned, what in the mischief's name has happened to you?" -exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, "have you all at once become a poor young -man with a small family of young children?" - -"No, my dear Sir," answered Ned Hayward in a hurried tone, "but if you -have any women in the house I will give this little fellow into their -care and tell you all about it in a few minutes. Hush, my little man, -hush. We are all friends: we will take care of you. Now don't cry -again: no harm shall happen." - -"Women! to be sure!" cried Sir John, "call the housekeeper, one of you -rascals. Women! Hang it, Ned, do you think I could live in a house -without women? A bottle of claret is not more necessary to my -existence than the sight of a cap and a petticoat flying about the -house--in the distance, Ned, in the distance! No brooms and dust-pans -too near me; but in a discreet position, far enough off yet visible; -woman is the sunshine of a house." - -"Give him to me, Captain Hayward," said Miss Clifford, holding out her -arms for the boy. "He will be quiet with me, I am sure. Won't you, my -poor little fellow?" - -The child gazed at her strangely as she took him, letting go Dr. -Miles's arm to do so; but meeting the sweet smile that lighted up her -beautiful face, he put his little arms round her neck the next moment, -and hid his large blue eyes upon her shoulder. She held him kindly -there, speaking a few gentle words to him, while Ned Hayward looking -round the party addressed himself to the worthy clergyman, inquiring, -"You are the rector of this parish, Sir, I think?" - -Dr. Miles made a stiff bow, not prepossessed in favour of any of Sir -John Slingsby's old friends, and answered as briefly as possible, "I -am, Sir." - -"Then can you tell me," asked the young gentleman, eagerly, "if there -was any woman up at the cottage on the moor?" - -Dr. Miles started, and replied with a look of much greater interest, -"No, Sir, no. What has happened? Why do you ask? What cottage do you -mean? There are three." - -"I mean the cottage of a man called Gimlet," answered Ned Hayward. "I -saw some women's clothes--gowns and things; and I thought there might -be a woman there, that's all. There was none then?" - -"There was one six months ago," replied the clergyman, in a very grave -tone, "as lovely a creature as ever was seen, but she lies in my -churchyard, poor thing. She is at peace." - -"Thank God," said Ned Hayward, in a tone of relief. "Ah, here comes -somebody for the child. My good lady, will you have the kindness to -take good care of this little fellow. See that he is not burnt or -hurt, and let him have some bread-and-milk, or things that children -eat--I don't know very well what they are, but I dare say you do." - -"Oh, by Jove that she does!" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, "she feeds -half the children in the parish. You take good care of him, Mrs. -Hope--and now, Ned," he continued, turning from the housekeeper to his -guest, "what the devil's the meaning of all this?" - -"I will tell you by and by, Sir John," answered Captain Hayward. "Pray -go to dinner and I will be down directly. Many apologies for being -late; but it was not to be helped. I will not be ten minutes; but do -not let me detain you--" - -"But what is it all about? What has happened? Who the deuce is the -child?" exclaimed Sir John. "Do you think either men or women can eat -soup or digest fish with their stomachs full of curiosity?" - -"By and by, Sir John, by and by," said Ned Hayward, making towards the -stairs. "You shall have the whole story for dessert. At present I am -dirty, and the dinner's waiting. It will get cold, and your curiosity -keep hot." - -Thus saying he left them, and the rest of the party proceeded to -dinner. - - - - -CHAPTER X. -The Poacher's Cottage. - - -If you quit the high-road from Tarningham on the right-hand side by -that little sandy path, just a hundred yards on the other side of the -stone pump, equidistant from it and the mile-stone which marks on the -hither side, five miles and a half from Tarningham, and walk straight -on, it leads you over the moor, and through the midst of scenery very -common in England, not much loved by ordinary ramblers, but which for -me and a few others has a peculiar and almost indescribable charm. The -ground is broken, undulated, full of deep sand-pits and holes, -frequently covered with gorge and heath, spotted occasionally with -self-sown shrubs, a stunted hawthorn here and there, two or three -melancholy firs, gathered together on the top of a mound, like a party -of weary watchers trying to console each other by close companionship, -while from time to time a few light birches, with their quivering -leaves, and thin, graceful arms, and ragged coats of silver and brown, -are seen hanging over the edge of a bank, or decorating the side of a -hollow. If you dip down into one of the low dells, a sensation of -hermit-like solitude comes upon you. You believe that there at least -you may be, - - - The world forgetting, by the world forgot; - - -and you feel an irresistible desire to sit down at the foot of this -shrub, or that, where the roots, like a well-governed state, serve to -keep together in close union, the light and incoherent materials that -sustain them, and there to commune with your own thoughts in the -silent presence of Nature. If you mount one of the little hills, the -scene and the sensation is very different, The solitude is as deep as -striking; no living thing is to be seen, unless it be a wild curlew, -with its thin arched wings, whirling away with a shrill cry in the -enjoyment of its own loneliness; but there is an expansion, a -grandeur, a strange sublimity in the extent of waste, with the long -lines waving off in different hues like the billows of the ocean, -first yellow sand, and green short turf, then a brown mass, where the -sight loses its distinctness, then perhaps a gleam of water, then a -blue line, deep as indigo, where the azure air and the black shade -mingle together under some threatening cloud; then long undulations of -purple, fainter and fainter, till who shall say where earth ends and -sky begins. The bleakness, the stillness, the solitariness, the varied -colouring, the vast extent, the very monotony of the forms mingle -together in a whole that has not less grandeur in it than the highest -mountain that ever raised its proud brow above its brother giants. - -I have said you would have to go straight on, but what I said was -quite untrue, and it is wonderful how many little falsehoods slip -out of the innocent and unconscious pen, either in the haste of -writing--which is very pardonable--or for the sake of a little -graceful turn, a neat expression, or a pretty figure, which is not so -small a fault. I do not believe there were ever ten sentences written -by poet, historian, or romance-writer, in ancient or modern times, -that had not some lie in them, direct or implied. I stand -self-convicted. It is not true that you would have to go -straightforward, for if you did you would walk into a pond, and -moreover, might never chance to get out again; for what between rushes -and reeds, and weeds and water-lilies, to say nothing of sundry deep -holes at the bottom, there is every risk that you would get your feet -entangled, and plunge headforemost into a place where you could -neither swim or disengage yourself. No, the path does not go -straightforward. Of all man's circuitous ways, and every one who -knows the human heart, is well aware that it is too fond of crooked -paths ever to pursue a straightforward course in any thing--of all -man's circuitous ways, I say, there never was one more serpentine or -meandering than that which leads from the high-road upon the moor. -First it turns round that pond I have mentioned, then it glides about -the base of a little hill, then it forces its way in a slanting -direction, through a bank of sand, then it turns aside from a deep -pit, then it respectfully passes at a little distance from a tumulus, -where sleep the ashes of the forgotten brave; and even when it gets -upon the flat green turf, it twists about like a great snake, giving -sad indications of man's vagabond fancies that lead him hither and -thither, without rhyme or reason, wherever he may be going, and -whatever may be the object before him. - -But after all, why should he not be thus led? why should be not follow -these fancies? Life's but a walk over a moor, and the wild-flowers -that grow upon our path are too few not to gather them when they come -within sight, even though it cost us a step or two aside. It's all in -the day's journey, and we shall get home at last. - -Yet it is curious to consider all these various bends and turnings in -any little foot-way such as that we are now following. There is very -often a reason for that which seems to us to be the effects of mere -caprice. Now why did the fellow who first beat this road with his -wandering foot, turn away here to the right, when it is as evident as -the sun at noonday (that's to say in fine weather), that his object -was to pass straight between those two little hillocks before us? Oh, -I see, the grass is very green there; there is either some little -spring, or else the ground is soft and marshy in wet weather, and so -he went round to avoid it. But if he did so, why did he not keep to -the right of the hillock, that one with the hawthorn upon it, that is -now in flower, scenting the solitary air with a perfume that no art -could ever extract? Could it be to take a look at that wide view over -the tall, magnificent trees of the park, with the wide-spread country -beyond, and the little tower of Tarningham church, rising up between -those tall silver poplars? Perhaps it might be so; for there is an -inherent sense of the picturesque in the breast of most men, which, -unlike any acquired taste, grows and refines, and becomes stronger and -more overpowering the more it is indulged, and the more opportunities -of indulgence that it has. It is perhaps the only thing of which it -can be truly said that "increase of appetite grows by that it feeds -on." And it is a beautiful scene, too, which might well temper a -little out of the way. As to the rest it is clear enough, that when he -had got there--the first wanderer over the moor I mean--he was obliged -to turn away to the right, in order to come into the proper direction -again, so that here are four of his deviations completely accounted -for, and indeed, dear reader, I cannot help thinking, that if we were -once or twice in life to examine curiously the motives of our own -actions, or even of others, taking care to be impartial in both cases, -we should find cause to cast away our critical spirit, and to believe -that there are very often good and rational reasons for a turn to the -right or a turn to the left, which we have been inclined to blame, -simply because we did not perceive what those reasons were. Oh, -charity, charity, rightly understood in thy largest and holiest sense, -what a beautiful thing thou art; and did men but practise thee, how -often should we be spared the crime and folly of condemning unwisely -and unjustly. - -But to return to my path: upon my life, after having regained the -direction, the fellow has followed it straight on for more than a -quarter of a mile. It is wonderful, it is marvellous! I never saw such -a thing before! But, nevertheless, it is true that there was nothing -either to attract or drive him to one side or the other; and then, as -if to make up for lost time, what zig-zags he takes afterwards! Round -that clump of firs, under that bank, through between the birch-trees, -here and there over the wildest part of the moor, till he passes close -by the edge of that deep sand-pit, which must have rested a long time -since it contributed any of its crumbling particles to strew the floor -of the public-house, or sprinkle the passage of the cottage; for the -bushes are growing thick down the slope, and there seems as if there -had been a little kitchen-garden in the bottom, and a human -habitation. - -In the reign of that King George, under whose paternal sceptre -flourished the English nation in the times whereof I am writing, there -was a cottage in that sand-pit, a small lonely house, built of timber, -laths, and mud, and containing two or three rooms. The materials, as I -have shown, were poor, ease and comfort seemed far from it, yet there -was something altogether not unpleasant in the idea of dwelling in -that sheltered nook, with the dry sand and the green bushes round, and -feeling, that let the wind rave as it would over the hill, let it bend -down the birch-trees, and make the pines rustle and crack, and strike -their branches against each other, the fury of the tempest could not -reach one there--that let the rain pour down in ever such heavy -torrents, as if the windows of Heaven were open, the thirsty ground -would drink up the streams as they fell, as if its draught were -insatiable. There were signs of taste, too, about the building, of a -humble and natural kind. Over the door had been formed with some -labour a little sort of trellised portico, of rough wood-work, like an -arbour, and over this had been trained several plants of the wild-hop -and wild-clematis, with one solitary creeping garden-rose. Sticks had -been placed across the house, too, to afford a stay for these shrubs -to spread themselves over the face of the cottage, if they had any -strength to spare, when they had covered the little portico, and two -or three wandering shoots, like truant children, were already sporting -along the fragile path thus afforded them. - -The interior of the house was less prepossessing than the outside; the -mud-floor, hard beaten down and very equally flattened, was dry -enough, for the sand below it carried off all moisture; but in the -walls of the rooms there was, alas! many a flaw through which sun or -moon might shine, or the night-wind enter, and to say the truth, the -inhabitants of the cottage were as much indebted to the banks of the -pit for protection against such a cold visitant, as to the -construction of their dwelling. The furniture was scanty and rude, -seeming to have been made by a hand not altogether unaccustomed to the -use of a carpenter's tools, but hastily and carelessly, so that in -gazing round the sleeping-chamber, one was inclined to imagine that -the common tent-bed that stood in one corner was the only article that -had ever tenanted a shop. The great chest, the table, the two or three -chairs, all spoke plainly the same artificer, and had that been all -that the room contained, it would have looked very miserable indeed; -but hanging from nails driven into the wall, were a number of very -peculiar ornaments. There was a fox's head and a fox's brush, dried, -and in good preservation; there was the gray skin of a badger, and the -brown skin of an otter; birds of prey of various sizes and -descriptions, the butcher-bird, the sparrow-hawk, and the buzzard, as -well as several owls. Besides these zoological specimens, were hung up -in the same manner a number of curious implements, the properties and -applications of some of which were easy to divine, while others -remained mysterious. There were two or three muzzles for dogs, which -could be distinguished at once, but then by their side was a -curious-looking contrivance, which appeared to be a Lilliputian -wire-mousetrap, sewn on to some straps of leather. Then came a large -coil of wire, a dog's collar, and a pair of greyhound-slips. Next -appeared something difficult to describe, having two saw-like jaws of -iron like a rat-trap, supported on semi-circular bars which were fixed -into a wooden handle, having a spring on the outside, and a revolving -plate within. It was evident that the jaws could be opened and kept -open in case of need, and had I been a hare, a rabbit, or any other -delicate-footed animal, I should not have liked to trust my ankle -within their gripe. I could describe several other instruments both of -leather and iron, which were similarly suspended from the wall; but as -I really cannot tell the reader what was the use of any one of them, -it would be but labour thrown away. However, there were other things, -the intent and purport of which were quite self-evident. Two or three -small cages, a landing-net, fishing-rods, a gun, powder-flasks, -shot-belts, a casting-net, and a clap-net, and by the side of the -window hung four small cages, containing singing-birds. - -But who was he in the midst of all this strange assortment? Was he the -owner of this wild, lonely dwelling? Oh no, it was a young man dressed -as none could be dressed who frequented not very different scenes from -those that lay around him. His clothes were not only those of a -gentleman, but those of a gentleman who thought much of his own -personal appearance--too much indeed to be perfectly gentlemanly. All -that the tailor, the boot-maker, the hat-maker could do had been done -to render the costume correct according to the fashion of the day; but -there was a certain something which may be called a too-smartness -about it all; the colours were too bright, the cut too decidedly -fashionable, to be quite in good taste. Neither was the arrangement -of the hues altogether harmonious. There are the same colours in a -China-aster and a rose, but yet what a difference in the appearance of -the two flowers; and the same sort of difference, though not to the -same extent, existed between the dress of the person before us, and -that of the truly well-dressed man even of his own time. In most other -respects his appearance was good; he was tall, rather slightly formed -than otherwise, and had none of that stiffness and rigidity which -might have been anticipated from his apparel. Demeanour is almost -always tinged more or less by character, and a wild, rash, vehement -disposition will, as in his case, give a freedom to the movements -which no drilling can altogether do away with. His features in -themselves were not bad. There was a good high forehead, somewhat -narrow indeed, a rather fine pair of eyes (if one could have seen them -both), a little close together, a well-formed nose, and a mouth and -chin not badly cut, though there was a good deal of animal in the one, -and the other was somewhat too prominent. The whole countenance, -however, was disfigured by a black silk shade which covered the right -eye, and a fresh scar all the way down the same side of the nose, -while from underneath the shade, which was not large enough for its -purpose, peeped out sundry rainbow rings of blue and yellow, invading -both the cheek and the temple. - -By these marks the reader has already perceived that this gentleman -has been presented to him before, but in a very different garb, which -he had thought fit to assume for his own particular purposes on the -preceding night, and now he sat in the cottage of Stephen Gimlet the -poacher, judging it expedient to keep himself at a distance from the -peopled haunts of man, during the bright and bustling day at least. At -night he proposed to betake himself to the inn which had been -mentioned in his conversation with the housekeeper; but after his -pleasant and hopeful conversation with his father, he had ridden -straight to the dwelling of his companion, Wolf, where on the -preceding day his portmantles had been left after they had arranged -their plans; and having stabled his horse in a shed at the back of the -building, had passed the heavy hours of darkness partly in bitter -meditations, and partly in conversation with his comrade. Sleep could -hardly be said to have visited his eyelids, for though after he cast -himself down to rest he had dozed from time to time, yet agitating -thoughts continually returned and deprived him of all real repose. - -At an early hour of the morning, and while it was still dark, Ste -Gimlet had gone out, as was his wont, and rising with the first rays -of the sun, Henry Wittingham employed himself in dressing with -scrupulous care, and then filled up about half an hour more in making -a black patch to hide his disfigured eye, out of an old silk -handkerchief. When this was accomplished, wanting something or another -to tie this covering in its right place, he looked round the room, but -in vain. Leather straps, dog-collars, rat-traps, brass wire, would -none of them do, and although near the nets there was lying a ball of -whip-cord, he thought that such a decoration as a string made with -that material would but ill accord with the rest of his habiliments. -He therefore walked across the little passage to the next room, and -lifted the coarse wooden latch of the door. He found the door locked, -however, and muttering to himself, "D--n the fellow, did he think I -would steal any thing?" he was turning away, when a small sweet voice -from within exclaimed, "I'm ready, daddy, I've got my stockings on." - -"Oh, he's locked the child in, that's it," said Henry Wittingham to -himself, and then raising his voice, he said, "Your daddy's not come -back, Charley, so lie still and be quiet." - -Then returning to the next room, the brilliant thought struck him of -cutting off the hem of the old silk handkerchief to make a string for -the black patch, which task being accomplished, and all complete, he -sat down and thought. - -Oh, how many sorts of misery there are in the world! In giving to man -his fine organisation, in raising him above the brute by delicate -structure, by intellect, by imagination, and by infinitely extended -hope and long persisting memory, nature, indeed, did afford him -infinite sources of enjoyment, but at the same time laid him open on -every side to the attack of evils. In perfect innocence, indeed, man -and his whole race might find nearly perfect happiness. The Garden of -Eden is but a type of the moral Paradise of a perfectly virtuous -state; but the moment that Sin entered, the thorns and briars grew up -to tear all feet; and the very capabilities of refined happiness -became the defenceless points for pain and wretchedness to assail us. -Infinite, indeed, are their attacks, and innumerable the forms that -they assume; but of all the shapes of misery, what is to be more -dreaded, what is more terrible than thought to a vicious mind? And -there he sat in thought, with the morning sunshine streaming around -him, calm, and pure, and tranquil. The light that gave deeper depth to -the shadows of his own heart. What did he think of? Where did his -meditations rest? On the happiness that was passed away, on the gay -hours of childhood, on the sports of his boyish days, on the times -when the world was young for him, and every thing was full of -freshness and enjoyment? Or did he think of the blessing cast away, of -wealth, and comfort, and ease, with no reasonable wish ungratified, no -virtuous pleasure denied? Or did he look forward to the future with -fear and anguish, and to the past with remorse and grief? Heaven only -knows, but there he sat, with his head bent forward, his brow -contracted, his teeth tight shut, his right arm fallen listlessly by -his side, his left hand contracting and expanding involuntarily upon -some fragments of silk on the table. He gazed forward through the -window, from under his bent brows. He saw not the sunshine, but he -felt it and loved it not; and ever and anon the dark shadows of strong -emotion crossed his countenance like misty clouds swept over the face -of the mountain. He sat long, and was at heart impatient for his -companion's return; but so strong was the hold that thought had got -upon him, he knew not how time went. He heard not even the child cry -in the neighbouring room, when, wearied with waiting, it got terrified -at the unusual length of his father's absence. - -At length, however, the stout form of the poacher was seen descending -the small steep path which led from the moor into the sand-pit. His -step was slow and heavy, his air dull and discontented; but Harry -Wittingham as soon as he beheld him started up and opened him the door -of the cottage, exclaiming, "Well, Wolf, what news?" - -"Neither the best in the world nor the worst," answered the man -somewhat sullenly. - -"And what have you got for breakfast?" inquired the young gentleman, -"I am as hungry as the devil!" - -"You must wait a bit though," answered Wolf, descending, "I must look -after the boy first. Poor little man, I dare say he has cried his eyes -out, I've been so long--but if you're in a great hurry, you'd better -light the fire, Master Harry, you'll find some wood in the corner -there, and you can strike a light with the pistol flint." - -Harry Wittingham did not look well pleased, and turning into the house -again walked to the window, and affected to hum a tune, without -undertaking the menial office that the other had assigned him. In the -meanwhile, Wolf walked straight to the other door, unlocked it, and -catching up the beautiful boy, who was sitting half dressed on a stool -crying, he pressed him eagerly to his breast, and kissed him once or -twice. There were strange and salutary thoughts passed through his -brain at that moment. He asked himself what would have become of that -child if he had been detained and taken to prison, as indeed had been -very likely. Who would have let the boy out of that solitary room--who -would have given him food--who would have nursed and tended him? And -once or twice while he was finishing what the child's tiny hands had -left undone, in attempting to dress himself, the father rubbed his -brow, and thought heavily. Say what man will of the natural -affections, they are the best ties to good conduct. - -When he had done, he took the boy by the hand and led him into the -other room, gave a glance to the fireplace, and then to Harry -Wittingham as he stood at the window, and his brow gathered into a -frown. He said nothing, however, lighted the fire himself, and taking -the fish from his pocket proceeded to broil them. Then from the great -chest he drew out a knife or two, a cut loaf of coarse bread, and two -or three glasses, which he placed upon the table, and giving his child -a large hunch of the bread, told him in a whisper, as if it were a -mighty secret, that he should have a nice trout in a minute. To Harry -Wittingham he said not a word, till at length the other turning round -exclaimed, "Well, Wolf, you have not told me what news you bring." - -"And you have not lighted the fire," said Ste Gimlet. "If you think, -Master Wittingham, that you can live in a place like this and keep -your hands clean, you are mistaken. You must shape your manners to -your company, or give it up." - -Harry Wittingham felt inclined to make an angry answer; but -recollecting how much he was in his companion's power, prudence came -to his aid, and he only replied, "Pooh, pooh, Wolf, I am not -accustomed to lighting fires, and I do not know how to set about it." - -"Faith you may have to learn some day," answered his comrade. "When I -built all this house and made all these chairs and tables with my own -hands, I knew as little about a trade I never thought to practise, as -you about this." - -"Ay, you have practised many a trade in your day," said Harry -Wittingham, "and I never but one." - -"Nor that a very good one," murmured Wolf to himself; but the storm -thus passed away for the time, and the trout were broiled and put in a -plate, from which the two men and the little boy made each a hearty -meal. - -The magistrate's son suffered their breakfast to pass over without -making any further inquiry respecting the tidings which his companion -had obtained in his morning's expedition; but after Ste Gimlet had -produced a bottle of very fine white brandy, which certainly had not -turned pale at the sight of a custom-house officer, and each had taken -a glass mixed with some of the cold water which formed the purer -beverage of the child, the poacher vouchsafed the information unasked, -relating to Harry Wittingham a great part of what had taken place -between himself and Ned Hayward. What he did not relate he probably -thought of no consequence, though men's opinions might perhaps differ -upon that subject; but at all events Harry Wittingham gathered that he -had been met and narrowly escaped being apprehended by a man, who had -questioned him closely about the adventures of the night before and -who was acquainted with his name, and the share he had had in a -somewhat perilous and disgraceful enterprise. - -Such tidings cast him into another fit of dark and gloomy thought, in -which he remained for about five minutes without uttering a word; but -then he gave a start, and looked up with a gleam of satisfaction on -his face, as if some new and pleasant conclusion had suddenly -presented itself to his mind. - -"I'll tell you what, Ste," he said, "I've just thought of something. -You must go down to Tarningham for me, and gather all the news you can -about this fellow--find out who he is, and whether he is a London beak -or not; and then when you have done all that--" - -"I shall do none of it, Master Harry," answered the poacher, "I won't -stir another step in this business--I don't like it, Sir; it's not in -my way. I undertook it just to please you for old companionship's -sake, and because you told me the young lady would have no objection; -and then when I was in it, I went through with it, though I saw well -enough that she liked the thought of going as much as I should like to -dance on a rope. But I will have no more to do with it now; it has -done me enough harm already, and now I shall be watched ten times -closer than ever, and lose my living--so go, I do not." - -"Come, come, Wolf, there's a good fellow--this is all nonsense," said -Harry Wittingham, in a coaxing tone. - -But the man cut him short, repeating sternly that he would not go. - -"Then, by--, I will go myself," exclaimed the young gentleman, with a -blasphemous oath, "if you are afraid, I am not." - -And starting up, he walked out of the cottage, took his way round to -the shed at the back, trampling upon several of the flowers, which the -poacher loved to cultivate, as he went; and in about a quarter of an -hour he was seen riding up the little path towards the moor. - -After he was gone, Ste Gimlet remained for some time in very -thoughtful mood: now gazing idly at vacancy, now playing with the -child's hair, or answering its infantine questions with an abstracted -air. At length he muttered, "What's to be done now?" and then added -aloud, "well, something must be done. Go out and play in the garden, -Charley." - -The child toddled out right gladly, and the poacher set himself down -to mend his bird-net; but ever and anon he laid down the cunning -meshes on his knee, and let his thoughts entangle themselves in links -not less intricate. - -"I'll try the other thing," he said, after a time, "this does not do. -I should not care for myself, but it's the poor baby. Poor dear Mary, -that always rested on her heart, what I should do with the boy when -she was gone. Well, I'll try and do better. Perhaps she is looking -down on us--who knows?" - -And then he fell to his work again with a sigh. He employed himself -with several things for two or three hours. He finished the net; he -made a wicker-basket--it was the first he had ever attempted, but he -did it better than might have been expected, and then he called the -boy in to his dinner, giving him a trout he had saved when he broiled -the others; for his own part he contented himself with a lump of the -bread. When that was done, he went and caught some small birds on the -moor, just above the edge of the pit, where he could see the child -playing below. When he had thus provided their light supper--for the -luxury of tea was unknown in Ste Gimlet's cottage, he came back and -sat down by the boy, and played with him fondly for several minutes, -gazing at him from time to time with a melancholy earnestness, which -mingled even with the smile of joy and pride that lighted his eyes, as -some movement of childish grace called forth the beauties of his -child. Nevertheless, from time to time, there was a sort of absent -look, and twice he went up to the bank above and gazed out over the -moor towards Tarningham. At length he went away far enough to climb to -the top of the neighbouring barrow or tumulus, after having told the -boy not to venture up the path. From the position in which he then -stood, he had a fair view of the scene I have already described, and -caught the windings of the high road down the hill more distinctly -than from below. - -"I shouldn't wonder if they had caught him," said Wolf to himself with -a frown, and an anxious expression of countenance, "and then he will -say it was my fault, and that I was afraid to go, and all that--Hang -it! why should I care what he says or what he thinks!" And with this -reflection he turned round and went back homeward. He found the boy at -the top of the bank, however, and gave him a gentle shake, scolding -him till the big drops began to gather in his large blue eyes. - -Stephen Gimlet was not satisfied with himself, and scolding the child -he found did not act as a diversion to his own self-reproaches. After -he had set his son playing again, he walked about moodily for near a -quarter of an hour, and then burst forth impetuously, saying, - -"I can't stand this, I must go and see what's become of him--they'll -know at the turnpike if he's passed, and the old woman won't blab. -Here, Charley, boy, you must go and play in the house now--it's -growing late, and I'm going away--I shan't be long, and you shall have -the bird-cages to play with." - -The boy seemed to be well accustomed to it, and trotted away to the -house before his father, without any signs of reluctance. He was -placed in the same room where he had been in the morning, some empty -bird-cages and two or three other things were given him for his -amusement, and locking the door of the chamber, the poacher walked -away, saying with a sigh, "There can no harm happen this time, for I -am going to do no wrong to any one." - -Vain, however, are all such calculations. The faults and virtues of -others as well as our own faults and virtues, enter into the strange -composition of our fate, and affect us darkly and mysteriously in a -manner which we can never foresee. If we reflected on the eve of -action on the number of beings throughout all time, and throughout our -whole race, who may be affected, nay, who must be affected by any deed -that we are about to perform, how many men would never act at all from -hesitation, how many would still act rashly and heedlessly as they do -now, from the impossibility of seeing the results. Happy is he who -acts deliberately, wisely, and honestly, leaving the consequences with -a clear conscience to Him who governs all aright. - -The poacher had left his own door about a quarter of an hour, when two -men took their way down into the sand-pit, the one on horseback, the -other on foot. Harry Wittingham fastened his horse's bridle to the -latch of the door, and going in with his companion looked round for -Wolf, then crossing over to the other chamber, and finding it locked, -he said, - -"Stephen isn't here; there, take that up, and be off with it," and he -pointed to his portmanteau in the corner where it lay. - -The other man, who seemed a common farm-servant, or one of the -inferior stable-men of an inn, got the portmanteau on his shoulder, -and walked away with it, and Harry Wittingham remained for a minute or -two with his hands behind his back looking out of the window. At the -end of that time he said aloud: "Well, it's no use waiting for him, we -should only have a row, I dare say, so I'll be off too." - -Before he went, however, he looked round the place for a moment, with -an expression of mockery and contempt. What was in his bosom, it would -be difficult to say, for the heart of man is full of strange things. -Perhaps he felt it unpleasant to be under an obligation to the owner -of that poor tenement, even for a night's shelter, and strove to salve -the wound of pride by reducing the obligation to the lowest point in -his own estimation. He might think that the misery he saw around did -not make it a very desirable resting-place, and that he had little to -be thankful for in having been permitted to share a beggar's hut. His -eyes, as he looked around, fell upon some embers of smouldering wood -on the hearth, and that called to mind one of the many bad habits -which he had lately acquired, and in which he had not yet indulged -through the whole of that day. He accordingly put his hand in his -pocket, and pulled out some cigars, then not very common in England. -Next taking up with the tongs, a piece of the charred and still -burning wood, he lighted one of the rolls of weed, cast down the -ember, and threw the tongs back upon the hearth; after which, mounting -his horse, he cantered away as blithely as if his heart had been -innocent as a child's. - -The embers fell upon the earthen floor, where, under ordinary -circumstances they could do no harm; but it so happened that Stephen -Gimlet, when he had done mending the net, had cast down the hank of -twine close by the table. A long end of the string had fallen toward -the fireplace, and a moment or two after Henry Wittingham had quitted -the cottage, the piece of charred wood itself became black, but a -small spot of fire was seen close to it, and a thin filing curl of -smoke arose. It went on smouldering for about five minutes, creeping -forwards inch by inch, and then a gust of wind through the door, which -he had left open, fanned it, and a flame broke out. Then it ran -rapidly along, caught the hank of twine, which was in a blaze in a -moment. It spared the netting-needle, which was of hard box-wood, and -for an instant seemed to promise to go out of itself; but then the -flame leaped up, and the meshes of the net which had been left partly -on the table, partly on a chair, showed a spark here and there, -flashed with the flame, and then, oh, how eagerly the greedy element -commenced devouring all that it could meet with! Wherever there was a -piece of wood-work it seized upon it; the table, the chair, the poles -of the net, the upright posts of the wall, the beams of the roof, the -thatch itself, and then instantly a cloud of dull black smoke, mixed -with sparks, rose up upon the moor, from the sand-pit. The heat became -intense, the smoke penetrated into the other chamber, the sparks began -to fall before the window, a red light spread around, and then the -terrified screams of a child were heard. - -About a quarter of an hour before, a gentleman had appeared upon the -moor, from the side of Sir John Slingsby's park. He had come up the -hill as if he were walking for a wager, for there was something in the -resistance of the acclivity to his progress, which made the vigorous -spirit of youth and health resolute to conquer it triumphantly. When -the feat was done, however, and the hill passed as if it had been a -piece of level ground, Ned Hayward slackened his pace and looked about -him, enjoyed to the full all that the wide expanse had of grand and -fine, breathed freer in the high air, and let the spirit of solitary -grandeur sink into his heart. He had none of the affected love of the -picturesque and the sublime, which make the folks who assume the -poetical so ridiculous. He was rather inclined to check what people -call fine feelings than not; he was inclined to fancy himself, and to -make other people fancy him a very commonplace sort of person, and he -would not have gone into an ecstasy for the world, even at the very -finest thing that the world ever produced; but he could not help, for -the life of him, feeling every thing that was beautiful and great, -more than he altogether liked, so that, when in society, he passed it -off with a touch of persiflage, putting that sort of shield over what -he felt to be a vulnerable point. Now, however, when he happened to be -alone, he let Nature have her way, and holding his riding-whip by both -ends, walked here and walked there, gazing at the prospect where he -could get a sight of it, and looking to the right and the left as if -not to let any point of loveliness escape him. His eyes soon fell upon -the little tumulus already mentioned, with the sentinel fir-trees -keeping guard upon the top, and thinking that there must be a good -look-out from that high position, he walked slowly up and gazed over -the park towards Tarningham. Suddenly, however, his eyes were -withdrawn, as a cloud of white smoke came rolling up out of the -sand-pit. - -"Ha, ha!" he said, "my friend Master Wolf lighting his fire I -suppose." - -But the smoke increased. Ned Hayward thought he saw some sparks rising -over the bushes. A sudden sensation of apprehension crossed his mind, -and he walked rapidly down the side of the hillock, and crossed the -intervening space with a step quick in reality, though intended to -appear leisurely; but in a moment a cloud of deeper-coloured smoke, -tinged with flame, burst up into the evening air, and he sprang -forward at full speed. A few bounds brought him to the side of the -pit, and as he reached it a scream met his ear. It was the easily -recognised voice of childhood, in terror or in pain, and Ned Hayward -hesitated not an instant. There was a path down a couple of hundred -yards away to the left, but the scene before his eyes counselled no -delay. There was the cottage, with the farther part of the thatch all -in a blaze, the window of the room beneath it fallen in, and the flame -rushing forth, a cloud of smoke issuing from the door, and scream -after scream proceeding from the nearer end of the building. His -riding-whip was cast down at once, and grasping the stem of the -birch-tree rooted in the very edge, he swung himself over, thinking to -drop upon a sloping part of the bank about ten feet below. The filmy -roots of the shrub, however, had not sufficient room hold upon the -sandy soil to sustain his weight; the tree bent, gave way, and came -down over him with a part of the bank, so that he and his frail -support rolled together to the bottom of the pit. He was up in an -instant, however he might be hurt or he might not, he knew nothing -about it, but the shrill cry of the child rang in his ear, and he -darted forward to the cottage-door. It was full of fire, and dark with -suffocating vapour, but in he rushed, scorching his hair, hands, his -face, and his clothes, found the other door blackened, and in some -places alight with the encroaching fire, tried to open it but failed, -and then shouted aloud, "Keep back, keep back, and I will burst it -open," and then, setting his foot against it, he cast it with a -vigorous effort into the room. A momentary glance around showed him -the child, who had crept as near to the window as possible, and, -darting forward, Ned Hayward caught the boy up in his arms, and rushed -out with him, covering his head with his arm, that none of the beams, -which were beginning to fall, might strike him as they passed, then -setting him down on the green turf when they were at a little -distance, he asked eagerly, "Are there any more?" - -The child, however, stupified with terror, gazed in his face and cried -bitterly, but answered not. Seeing he could obtain no reply, Ned -Hayward ran back to the cottage and tried to go in again, but it was -now impossible; the whole way was blocked up with burning rafters, and -large detached masses of the thatch, which had fallen in, and were now -sending up vast showers of sparks, as the wind stirred them. He -hurried to the window and looked in, and though the small panes were -cracking with the heat, he forced it open, and shouted at the extreme -pitch of his voice, to drown the rushing sound of the fire, "Is there -any one within?" - -There was no answer, and the moment after, the dry beams being burnt -away, and the support at the other end gone, the whole thatch above -gave way, and fell into the room, the flame above carried up into a -spire as it descended. - -The heat was now intolerable, and forced a retreat to a distance. -Captain Hayward took the boy up in his arms and strove to soothe him, -and gain some information from him. It was all in vain, however, and -after a moment's thought, the gentleman said to himself, "I will carry -him away to Tarningham House. Jack Slingsby will never refuse him food -and shelter, I am sure, and in case there should be any one else in -the place it is vain to hope that one could save them now. We can send -up people to look for the bodies. But let us see what's at the back of -the house." He accordingly walked round, still carrying the boy in his -arms, but found nothing there, except a low detached shed, which -seemed in security, as the wind blew the other way. A long trough and -spout, indeed, between the shed and the cottage, seemed in a somewhat -perilous position, and as it was likely that they might lead the fire -to the building yet uninjured, Ned Hayward thought fit to remove them -before he left the ground. This cost him some trouble, as they were -rooted in the sand; but when it was once accomplished he took up the -boy again, sought his hat, and crossing the moor, entered the western -gates of Sir John Slingsby's park without meeting any one from whom he -could obtain information, or to whom he could communicate the event -which had just occurred. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. -A Chapter on Ghosts, and a Ghost-story. - - -The events detailed in the last chapter, or at least that portion of -them in which he himself had borne a share, were related by Ned -Hayward to the party at Sir John Slingsby's after he had rejoined them -at the dinner table, having done his best to remove the traces of his -adventure from his personal appearance. The smoke and sand were washed -away, the burnt and singed garments had been changed for others, and -Ned Hayward still appeared a very good-looking fellow, not the less -interesting perhaps in the eyes of the ladies there present for all -that he had done and suffered. Nevertheless, the fine wavy curls of -his brown hair, which had been burnt off, were not to be recovered in -so short a time, and both his hands showed evident signs of having -been injured by the fire. He was in high spirits, however, for the -assurance that there could be nobody else in the cottage but the boy, -unless it were Gimlet the poacher himself, of which there was no -probability, had relieved the young gentleman's mind of a heavy -weight, and he jested gaily with Sir John Slingsby, who vowed that -with those hands of his he would not be able to throw a line for a -fortnight, replied that he would undertake to catch the finest trout -in the whole water before noon the next day. - -"And now, my dear Sir," he continued, turning to the clergyman, "as -you seem to know something of this good gentleman, Gimlet, and his -affairs, I wish you'd give me a little insight into his history." - -"It is a sad and not uncommon one," answered Dr. Miles, gravely, "and -I will tell it you some other time. My poor parishioners have a -superstitious feeling about that pit, and that cottage, for a man was -murdered there some years ago. You will find multitudes of people who -will vouch for his ghost having been seen sitting on the bank above, -and under a solitary birch-tree." - -"It won't sit there any more," answered Ned Hayward, laughing, "for -the birch-tree and I rolled down into the pit together, as I tried to -drop down by its help, thinking it was quite strong enough to support -me." - -"Then I am afraid the ghost is gone altogether for the future," said -Dr. Miles, in a tone of some regret. - -"Afraid! my dear doctor," exclaimed Miss Slingsby, "surely you do not -want ghosts among your parishioners?" - -"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Sir John Slingsby, with a merry, fat, -overflowing chuckle, "Isabella means, my dear doctor, that you may -make your flock as spiritual as you please, but not reduce them quite -to spectres." - -"No, papa, you are a wrong interpreter," rejoined his daughter, "I -meant to say that of all men on earth, I should have thought Dr. Miles -was the last to patronise a ghost." - -"I don't know, my dear," replied the worthy clergyman, "a ghost is -sometimes very serviceable in a parish. We are but children of a -bigger growth, and a bugbear is as necessary sometimes for great -babies as small ones, not that I ever used it or should use it; but -the people's own imagination did that for me. I have heard, Sir John, -that some men when they were lying out to shoot your deer, were scared -away by one of them fancying he saw the ghost, and you saved two good -haunches of venison, to say nothing of the pasty." - -"By Jove, that was a jolly ghost indeed," answered Sir John Slingsby, -"and I'll give him a crown the first time I meet him. Doctor, a glass -of wine." - -"If ghosts have such effects upon poachers," said Beauchamp, who had -been speaking in a low tone to Miss Slingsby, "how happens it that -this man, the father of the boy whom Captain Hayward brought hither, -fixed his abode in the spirit's immediate neighbourhood?" - -"Oh he is a sad unbelieving dog," said Dr. Miles; but then suddenly -checking himself he added, "and yet I believe in that I do him -injustice; there is some good in the man, and a great deal of -imagination. Half his faults proceed from an ill-disciplined fancy; -but the truth is, being a very fearless fellow, and of this -imaginative disposition, I believe he would just as soon have a ghost -for a next door neighbour as not. Therefore, I do not suppose that it -was from any doubt of the reality of the apparition, but rather in -defiance of it, that he setup his abode there; and perhaps he thought, -too, that it might serve as a sort of safeguard to him, a protection -against the intrusion of persons less bold than himself, at those -hours when ghosts and he himself are wont to wander. He knew well that -none of the country people would come near him then, for all the -ignorant believe in apparitions more or less." - -"Now, dear Dr. Miles, do tell me," cried Isabella Slingsby with a gay -laugh, "whether some of the learned do not believe in them too. If it -were put as a serious question to the Rev. Dr. Miles himself, whether -he had not a little quiet belief at the bottom of his heart in the -appearance of ghosts, what would he answer?" - -"That he had never seen one, my dear," replied the clergyman, with a -good-humoured smile, "but at the same time I must say that a belief in -the occasional appearance of the spirits of the dead for particular -purposes, is a part of our religion. I have no idea of a man calling -himself a Christian and taking what parts of the Bible he likes, and -rejecting or explaining away the rest. The fact of the re-appearance -of dead people on this earth is more than once mentioned in Scripture, -and therefore I believe that it has taken place. The purposes for -which it was permitted in all the instances there noticed, were great -and momentous, and it may very possibly be that since the Advent of -Our Saviour, no such deviations from usual laws have been requisite. -Of that, however, I can be no judge; but at all events my own reason -tells me, that it is not probable a spirit should be allowed to -revisit the glimpses of the moon for the purpose of making an old -woman say her prayers, or frightening a village girl into fits." - -"You are speaking alone of the apparition of the spirits of the dead," -said Beauchamp, "did you ever hear of the appearance of the spirits of -the living?" - -"Not without their bodies, surely!" said Miss Clifford. - -"Oh yes, my dear Mary," answered Dr. Miles, "such things are recorded, -I can assure you, ay, and upon testimony so strong that is impossible -to doubt that the witnesses believed what they related, whether the -apparition was a delusion of their own fancy or not--indeed it is -scarcely possible to suppose that it was a delusion, for in several -instances the thing, whatever it was, made itself visible to several -persons at once, and they all precisely agreed in the description of -it." - -"One of the most curious occurrences of the kind that ever I heard -of," said Beauchamp, "was told me by a German gentleman to whom it -happened. It was the case of a man seeing his own spirit, and although -we are continually told we ought to know ourselves, few men have ever -had such an opportunity of doing so as this gentleman." - -"Oh do tell us the whole story, Mr. Beauchamp," cried Isabella, -eagerly, "I must beg and entreat that you would not tantalise us with -a mere glimpse of such a delightful vision, and then let fall the -curtain again." - -"My dear Bella, you are tantalising him," exclaimed her father. "Don't -you see that you are preventing him from eating his dinner; at all -events, we will have a glass of wine first; shall it be Hermitage, Mr. -Beauchamp? I have some of 1808, the year before that rascal, Napoleon, -mixed all the vintages together." - -The wine was drunk, but immediately this was accomplished, Isabella -renewed her attack, calling upon Mr. Beauchamp for the story, and in -her eagerness laying one round taper finger upon his arm as he sat -beside her, to impress more fully her commands upon him, as she said, -"I must and will have the story, Mr. Beauchamp." - -"Assuredly," he replied, in his usual quiet tone, "but first of all, I -must premise one or two things, that you may give it all the weight it -deserves. The gentleman who told it to me was, at the time of my -acquaintance with him, a man of about seventy years of age, very -simple in his manners, and, however excitable his fancy might have -been in youth, he was at the time I speak of, as unimaginative a -person as it is possible to conceive. He assured me most solemnly, as -an old man upon the verge of eternity, that every word he spoke was -truth, and now I will tell it as nearly in his own language as I can, -and my memory is a very retentive one. You must remember, however, -that it is he who is speaking, and not I; and fancy us sitting -together, the old man and the young one, warming ourselves by a stove -on a winter's night, in the fine old town of Nuremberg." - - - -BEAUCHAMP'S STORY. - -"I am of an Italian family," said my friend, "but my father and my -grandfather were both born in Germany; exceedingly good people in -their way, but by no means very wealthy. My elder brother was being -educated for a physician, and had just finished his course of study, -when my father, having given me as good an education as he could in -Nuremberg, thought fit to send me to Hamburg, that I might pursue my -studies there, and take advantage of any opportunity that might occur -for advancing myself in life. My stock of all kinds was exceedingly -small when I set out; my purse contained the closely-estimated -expenses of my journey, and the allowance made for my maintenance -during six months, which did not admit the slightest idea of luxury of -any kind. I was grateful, however, for what was given, for I knew that -my father could afford no more, and I had no hope of another 'heller' -till my half year was out. I had my ordinary travelling dress, and my -mother gave me six new shirts, which she had spun with her own hands; -besides these, my portmanteau contained one complete black suit, two -pair of shoes, and a pair of silver buckles, which my father took off -his own feet and bestowed them upon me with his benediction. My elder -brother always loved me, and was kind to me; and when my going was -first talked of, he regretted deeply that he had nothing to give me; -but my little preparations occupied a fortnight, and during that time -good luck befriended him and me, and he treated and killed his first -patient. Thus he obtained the means of making me a sumptuous present -for my journey, which consisted of a straight-cut blue mantle, with a -square collar. Let me dwell upon the mantle, for it is important. It -was in the Nuremberg fashion, which had gone out of vogue over all -Germany for at last thirty years, and when I first put it on, I felt -very proud of it, thinking that I looked like one of the cavaliers in -the great picture in the town-hall. However, there was not another -mantle like it in all Germany, except in Nuremberg--sky-blue, falling -three inches below the knee, with a square-cut collar. I will pass -over my journey to Hamburg, till my arrival in a little common inn, in -the old part of the town. Not having a pfennig to spare, I set out -early the next morning to look out for a lodging, and saw several that -would have suited myself very well, but which did not suit my -finances. At length, seeing the wife of a grocer standing at the door, -with a good-humoured countenance, in a narrow and dark street, -containing some large, fine houses, which had seen the splendours of -former times, I walked up to her and asked if she could recommend a -lodging to a young man who was not over rich. After thinking for a -moment, she pointed over the way, to a house with a decorated front, -which had become as black as ink with age. The lower story was -entirely occupied by an iron-warehouse; but she said that up above on -the first floor I should find Widow Gentner, who let one room, and who -had, she believed, no lodger at the time. I thanked her many times for -her civility, and walking across the street to the point she -indicated, I looked up at the cornices and other ornaments which were -displayed upon the facade. Dirty they were beyond all doubt. A pair of -stone ladies with baskets in their hands, which had probably been once -as white as snow, now displayed long dripping lines of black upon -their garments; their noses had disappeared, but the balls of the eyes -were of the deepest brown, though above the centre appeared a white -spot, which seemed to show the presence of cataract. The fruit in the -baskets, however, consisted apparently of black cherries, and a dingy -cornucopia, which stood by the side of each, vomited forth swarthy -fruit and flowers of a very uninviting quality. I gazed in surprise -and admiration, and asked myself if it ever would be my fate to live -in so fine a mansion. Taking courage, however, I inquired at the -ironmonger's which was the door of Widow Gentner, and of the three -which opened into the lower part of the house, I was directed to the -second. On the first floor I found a tidy little maid, who introduced -me to the presence of her mistress, a quiet, dry old lady, who was -seated in a room which had apparently formed part of a magnificent -saloon--I say formed part, for it was evident that the size of the -chamber had been much curtailed. On the ceiling, which was of the most -magnificent stucco work I ever saw, appeared various groups of angels -and cherubs in high relief, as large as life, and seated amidst clouds -and bunches of flowers as big as feather-beds. But that ceiling -betrayed the dismemberment of the room; for all along the side where -ran the wall behind the good lady were seen angels' legs without the -heads and bodies, baskets of flowers cut in two, and cherubs with not -above one-half of the members even, which sculptors have left them. -This was soon explained: the widow informed me that she had divided -her chamber into three, of which she reserved one for herself, another -for her little maid, and let the third, which had a staircase to -itself opening from the street. She had done so with a good wall, she -said, to support the plafond, so that if I wanted to see the room she -had to let, I must go down again with her and mount the other stairs, -as there was no door of communication. I admired her prudence, and -accompanied her at once to a small room, arrived at by a small -staircase with its own street-door; and there I found on the ceiling -above my head the lost legs and wings of the angels on the other side, -besides a very solid pair of cherubims of my own. It contained a -little narrow bed, a table, a scanty proportion of chairs and other -things necessary for the existence of a student; and though an -unpleasant feeling of solitude crept over me as I thought of -inhabiting an apartment so entirely cut off from all human proximity, -yet as the widow's rent was small, I closed the bargain at once, and -soon was installed in my new abode. The good lady was very kind and -attentive, and did all she could to make me comfortable, inquiring, -amongst other things, what letters of introduction I had in Hamburg. I -had but one which I considered of any value, which was addressed, -with many of those flourishes which you know are common amongst us, to -Mr. S., a famous man in his day, both as a philosopher and literary -man, and who was also a man of sense of the world, and what is more -than ali, of a kind and benevolent heart. I went to deliver it that -very day, and met with a most kind and friendly reception from a -good-looking old gentleman, of perhaps sixty-three or four, who at -once made me feel myself at home with him, treating me with that -parental air which inspired both respect and confidence. He asked -several questions about my journey, where I lodged, how I intended to -employ my time, and last, what was the state of my finances. I told -him all exactly as it was, and when I rose to depart, he laid his hand -on my arm with the most benevolent air in the world, saying, 'You will -dine with me to-morrow at twelve o'clock, and I shall expect to see -you at dinner three days in the week as long as you stay. From eight -to ten at night I am always at home, and whenever you have nothing -else to do, come in and spend those hours with us.' I will not pretend -to say I was not quite well aware that the place thus granted me at -his dinner-table was offered from a knowledge of the limited state of -my finances; but pride in my case was out of the question, and I was -exceedingly grateful for the act of kindness, which saved me a -considerable sum in my housekeeping, and enabled me to indulge in a -few little luxuries which I could not otherwise have commanded. - -"It was the autumn of the year when I arrived at Hamburg, but the time -passed very pleasantly. All the day I was engaged in my studies; at -twelve o'clock I dined, either at my own chamber or at worthy Mr. -S.'s, and almost every evening was spent at his house, where he failed -not to regale me, either with a cup of fine coffee, or sometimes as a -great treat, with a cup of tea, according to your English mode. In -short, I became his nightly guest, and as the evenings grew dark and -sometimes foggy, I bought a little lantern to light myself through the -long and lonely streets which I had to pass from his house to my own. -On these occasions, too, as the weather grew intensely cold, my blue -cloak with the square collar proved a most serviceable friend, and -every night at ten o'clock I might be seen in precisely the same -attire, with my black suit, in great part covered by the azure mantle, -and the small lantern in my hand, finding my way homeward to my -solitary abode. Mr. S. lived in the fine new part of the town, where -he had a handsome house, with two maid-servants and his coachman, but -the latter slept at the stables. I lived, as I have before said, in -the old part of the town, well-nigh a mile distant; thus, in coming -and going, I got exercise at night, if I did not in the day, and I -mark it particularly, that I used to enjoy my walk to his house and -back, and used to look forward to it with pleasure during my hours of -study, in order that you may see, that on the occasion of which I am -about to speak, I was affected by no fantastical melancholy. - -"At length, one night in the winter of 17--, after passing the evening -at the house of Mr. S., where I had taken nothing but a cup of coffee -and a slice of brown bread-and-butter, I took leave of my friend, put -on my blue mantle with a square collar, lighted my lantern at the -housemaid's candle, and having safely shut the glass, set out on my -walk home. It was about a quarter-past ten, and the night was clear -and very dark; the sky, indeed, was full of stars, which looked -peculiarly bright as I gazed up at them, between the tall houses, as -if from the bottom of a well, and I felt a sort of exhilarating -freshness in the air that raised my spirits rather than otherwise. I -walked along to the end of the first street with a light step, turned -into the second, and was just entering the third, when I saw a figure -some thirty or forty paces before me, standing in a corner as if -waiting for some one. Although the streets, in the good old days of -Hamburg, were generally by that time of night quite deserted, yet -there was nothing extraordinary in my meeting one or two persons as I -went home, so that I took little or no notice of this figure, till I -had advanced to within about twenty paces, when it turned itself full -towards me, and at the same time the light of my lantern fell direct -upon it. Guess my surprise when I saw a being, so exactly like myself, -that I could have imagined I was looking in a glass. There were the -black legs, the shoes and silver buckles, the blue mantle with the -square-cut collar, and the little lantern with the handle at the back, -held just as I held mine. I stopped suddenly, and rubbed my eyes with -my left hand; but the figure immediately turned round and walked away -before me. At the same time my heart beat violently, and a sort of -strange dreamy sensation of horror came over me, like that which takes -possession of one sometimes when labouring under the nightmare. An -instant's reflection made me ashamed of what I felt, and saying to -myself, 'I'll look a little closer at this gentleman,' I walked on, -hurrying my pace. The figure, however, quickened its steps in the same -proportion. I did not like to run, but I was always a quick walker, -and I hastened as fast as ever I could; but it had no effect; the -figure, without the least apparent effort, kept always at the same -distance, and every moment I felt the sort of superstitious dread -which had taken possession of me increasing, and struggling against -the efforts of resolution. Resolution conquered, however, and -determined to see who this was that was so like me, without showing -him too plainly that I was chasing him, I stopped at a corner where a -street wound round, and entered again the one that I was pursuing at -some distance, and then taking to my heels, I ran as hard as I could -to get before my friend in the blue mantle. When I entered the other -street again, though I must have gained two or three minutes at least, -instead of seeing the figure coming from the side where I had left it, -there it was, walking on deliberately in the direction I usually -followed towards my own house. We were now within three streets of -Widow Gentner's, and though they were all of them narrow enough, I -generally took those which were most open. There was a lane, however, -to the left, which, passing by the grocer's I have mentioned, cut off -at least a quarter of the way, and as I was now overpowered by -feelings I cannot describe, I resolved to take the shortest path, and -run as hard as I could, in order to get home, and shut myself in -before the figure in the blue mantle reached the spot. Off I set then -down the narrow lane like lightning, but when I came to the grocer's -corner, my horror was complete, on beholding the same figure walking -along past the closed windows of the iron-shop, and I stopped with my -heart beating as if it would have burst through my ribs. With eyes -almost starting from my head, and the light of the lantern turned -full upon it, I gazed at its proceedings, when behold, it walked -quietly up to my door, stopped, turned round towards the house, put -the right-hand in its pocket, and seemed feeling for my key. The key -was produced, and stooping down, just as I should have done, after a -little searching for the keyhole, the door was opened, the figure went -in, and instantly the door closed again. - -"If you had given me the empire of a world, I could not have made up -my mind to go in after it, and setting off more like a madman than any -thing else, I returned to the house of Mr. S., with the intention of -telling him what had occurred. The bell was answered quickly enough by -the housemaid, who gazed at my wild and scared appearance with some -surprise. She told me, however, that the old gentleman had gone to -bed, and that she could not think of waking him on any account; and -resolved not to go home, and yet not liking to walk the streets of -Hamburg all night, I persuaded her with some difficulty to let me sit -in the saloon till I could speak with Mr. S. in the morning. I will -not detain you by describing how I passed the night; but when my -friend came down the next day, I related to him all that occurred, -with many excuses for the liberty I had taken. He listened gravely, -and his first question naturally was, if I were quite sure I had gone -straight homeward, without entering any of those places where strong -drinks were sold. I assured him most solemnly that the only thing that -had entered my lips that night was the cup of coffee which I had taken -at his house. - -"'The maid can tell you,' I said, 'that I had not been absent more -than three quarters of an hour when I returned.' - -"'Well, my young friend,' he replied, 'I believe you fully; very -strange things occasionally happen to us in life, and this seems one. -However, we will have some breakfast, and then go and inquire into -it.' - -"After breakfast we set out and walked to my house, I pointing out by -the way, all the different spots connected with my tale. When we -reached the gloomy old mansion, with its decorated front, I was going -direct to my own door, but Mr. S. said, 'Stay, we will first talk to -your landlady for a minute.' And we accordingly walked up to the rooms -of Widow Gentner by the other door and the other staircase. The widow -was very proud of the visit of so distinguished a person in the town -as Mr. S., and answered his questions with due respect. The first was -a very common one in that part of Germany, namely, whether she had -slept well that night. She assured him she had, perfectly well; and he -then proceeded with a somewhat impressive air, to inquire if nothing -had occurred to disturb her. She then suddenly seemed to recollect -herself, and answered, 'Now you mention it, I recollect I was awoke -about eleven o'clock, I think, by a noise on the other side of the -wall; but thinking that Mr. Z. had thrown over his table, or something -of that kind, I turned on the other side, and went to sleep again.' - -"No further information being to be obtained, we descended to the -street, and taking out my keys, I opened the door, and we went in. My -heart beat a little as we mounted the stairs, but resolving not to -show any want of courage, I boldly unlocked the room-door and threw it -open. The sight that presented itself made me pause on the threshold, -for there on my bed, where I should have been lying at the very moment -of its fall, was the whole ceiling of that part of the room, angels' -legs, and cherubims' wings, flower-baskets, and every thing, and so -great was the weight and the force with which it had come down, that -it had broken the solid bedstead underneath it. As I do not suppose my -head is formed of much more strong materials, it is probable that it -would have been cracked as well as the bed, and I heartily thank God -for my preservation. All my good old friend ventured to say, however, -was, 'A most fortunate escape! Had you slept here last night, you -would have been killed to a certainty.' Though a doctor of philosophy, -he did not risk any speculations upon the strange apparition which I -had beheld the night before; but invited me to take up my abode in his -house till my room could be put in order, never afterwards mentioning -the appearance of my double; and I have only to add that from that -time to this, now between fifty and sixty years, I have never seen -myself again except in a looking-glass." - - -"Such," continued Beauchamp, "is the story of my German friend, -exactly as he told it to me. I must leave you to judge of it as you -will, for unless you could see the old man, and know his perfect -simplicity of character, and quiet matter-of-fact temper of mind, you -could not take the same view of his history that I do." - -"In short, Mr. Beauchamp, you are a believer in ghosts," said Sir John -Slingsby, laughing; "well, for my part, I never saw any better spirit -than a bottle of brandy, and hope never to see a worse." - -"Take care you don't find yourself mistaken, Sir John," answered Dr. -Miles, "for although it is rather difficult to meet with good spirits, -the bad ones are much more easily conjured up." - -"I am not afraid, doctor," answered Sir John, "and mind, I've only had -three or four glasses of wine, so mine is not Dutch courage now; but -let us talk of something else than ghosts and such things, or we shall -all have the blue devils before we've done--a capital story, -nevertheless, Beauchamp; but this is a good story too, doctor, about -my sister being stopped on the king's highway. Has she told you about -it?" - -Dr. Miles merely nodded his head, and Sir John went on, - -"I can't make out the game of that old rascal Wittingham, who -seems devilish unwilling to catch the thieves, and had taken himself -out of the way when Ned Hayward and I called this morning. The old -linen-drapering scamp shall find that he can't treat Jack Slingsby in -this way." - -"Indeed, my dear brother, I wish you would let the matter rest," said -Mrs. Clifford; "no harm was done, except frightening me very -foolishly, and to pursue it further may, perhaps, lead to disagreeable -consequences. The letter written beforehand, to bring me over by a -report of your illness, shows that this was no ordinary affair." - -"A fig for the consequences," cried Sir John Slingsby, "if it were to -set half the town on fire, I would go on with it. Why, my dear -Harriet, am not I a magistrate, one of his majesty's justices of the -peace for the county of ----? Such a conscientious woman as you are, -would never have me neglect my solemn duties." And Sir John chuckled -with a low merry laugh, at the new view he chose to take of his -responsibilities. - -In such conversation the evening went on to its close, the subjects -changing rapidly, for the worthy baronet was not one to adhere -tenaciously to any particular line of thought, and Mrs. Clifford, -but more particularly still her daughter, being anxious to quit the -topic just started as soon as possible. Miss Clifford, indeed, seemed -so much agitated and embarrassed, whilst the adventures of the -preceding night were under discussion, that Ned Hayward, who was the -kindest-hearted man alive, and not without tact, especially where -women were concerned, came zealously to her relief, and engaged her in -low and earnest conversation. - -It was one of those cases in which two people without well knowing -what they are about, go on puzzling each other, though both may be as -frank as day. They talked of every simple subject which all the world -might have heard discussed--music, painting, poetry; but yet the whole -was carried on in so low a tone that to any one who did not know them -it would have appeared that they were making love. Miss Clifford was -puzzled, perplexed, to make out her companion's character, for she -certainly expected nothing from a man familiarly called Ned Hayward, -and more especially from a particular friend of her uncle's, but a -gay, rattling, good-humoured scapegrace at the best; yet in order to -gain her full attention, and withdraw her thoughts from a subject -which he saw annoyed her, Captain Hayward put off for the time his -usual careless, rapid manner, and spoke with so much feeling and good -taste, and what is more, good sense also, upon all the many topics -upon which their conversation ran--he showed her that he had read so -much, and thought so much, and felt so much, that she became convinced -before he had done, of the complete fallacy of all her preconceived -notions of his disposition. Such a change of opinion is always very -favourable to a man with a woman; for they are such generous -creatures, those women, that if they find they have done one -injustice, they are sure to go to the opposite extreme, and give us -credit for more than is our due. - -Ned Hayward's puzzle was of a different kind, but it proceeded from -the same source, namely, an erroneous preconception. He saw that Mary -Clifford was embarrassed, whenever the subject of the attack upon -their carriage was mentioned, that she changed colour, not from red to -white as would have been the case, had terror had aught to do with it, -but from white to red, which is generally a change produced by other -emotions. He therefore set it down as a certain fact, that the fair -lady's heart was a little engaged in the transaction; and yet, as they -went on talking in that same low voice, she twice returned to the -subject herself, not without some degree of embarrassment it is true, -but still as if she wished to say more, and Ned Hayward thought with -some degree of pique, "Well, my pretty friend, I am not quite old -enough to be made a confidant of yet." - -At length, just as the dessert was being put upon the table, tiresome -Sir John Slingsby harped back upon the subject, asking Mr. Beauchamp -if he thought he could swear to any of the persons concerned; and -taking advantage of a quick and somewhat loud conversation which went -on between those two gentlemen and Dr. Miles, Miss Clifford suddenly -broke through what she was talking of with her companion on the right, -and said earnestly, but still almost in a whisper, "Captain Hayward, -you rendered me a very great service last night, for which I shall -ever feel grateful, and it will add immensely to the favour, if you -can prevent my uncle from pursuing the matter in the manner he seems -inclined to do. Particular circumstances, which I may some time have -an opportunity of explaining, would render it most painful to me to -have the scandalous outrage which was committed upon us last night -dragged into a court of justice; indeed, I think it would half kill -me, especially if I had to give evidence, as I suppose would be the -case." - -"I will do my best," answered Ned Hayward, "but you must not be angry -or surprised, at any means I may take for that purpose. I could act -better, indeed, if I knew the circumstances." - -"All I can say at present," answered the young lady, in a low tone, -"is, that this was not a case of robbery, as you all seem to suppose." - -The colour mounted into her cheek as she spoke, and she added quickly, -"I cannot reproach myself with any thing in the affair, Captain -Hayward, although I have scrutinised my own conscience severely; but -yet at the same time, even to have my name talked of in connexion with -such a proceeding, and with such--such a person, would distress me -more than I can describe. I will say more another time." - -"In the meanwhile, I will do my best," replied the other, and even -while he was speaking, the roll of wheels was heard driving up to the -door, and a minute or two after, one of the servants entered, -announcing that Mr. Wittingham was in the library. - -"Let him stay, let him stay," said Sir John Slingsby, "he'll have an -opportunity there of improving his mind. What, what do you say?" he -continued, as the man whispered something over his shoulder, "we've -neither secrets of state nor high treason here,--speak out." - -"Please you, Sir John, two of Mr. Wittingham's men have brought up -Stephen Gimlet, whom they call Wolf, with irons upon him. I have kept -him in the hall." - -"Hang it!" cried Ned Hayward, "my little boy's father. I hope he has -not been doing any serious mischief!" - -"I don't think it, I don't think it," said Dr. Miles, eagerly, "the -man has a heart and a conscience, a little warped, it is true; but -still sound--sound, I think--I will go and speak to him." - -"Hang him, he steals my pheasants!" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby. - -"Then why don't you put him to keep them, colonel?" asked Ned Hayward. -"He would make a capital keeper, I am sure. Set a thief to catch a -thief, Sir John." - -"Not a bad idea, Ned," answered the baronet. "Stay, stay, doctor, he's -not condemned yet, and so does not want the parson. We had better talk -to old Wittingham first. We'll have him in and fuddle him. Give my -compliments to Mr. Wittingham, Matthews, and beg him to walk in. You -need not go, Harriet. He's quite a lady's man." - -But Mrs. Clifford rose, not at all anxious to witness the process of -fuddling a magistrate, and withdrew with her daughter and her niece. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. -In which the Magistrate is fuddled by the Baronet. - - -"Ah! Wittingham! Wittingham!" cried the baronet, stretching forth his -hand without rising, as the servant introduced the worthy magistrate, -"is that you, my old buck? If you haven't come in pudding-time, -you have come in wine-time, and will get what so few men get in -life,--your dessert. Sit down and pledge me, old fellow. What shall it -be in? Here's port that was bottled when I came of age, so you may -judge that it is good old stuff! Madeira that has made more voyages -than Cook, Comet Claret of 1811, and a bottle of Burgundy that smells -under my nose like oil of violets." - -"Why, Sir John," replied Mr. Wittingham, taking the seat just left -vacant by Mrs. Clifford, and very well pleased with so familiar a -reception, when he expected quite the reverse; for to say the truth, -although some circumstances had happened to make him resolve upon -taking the bull by the horns, and visiting the old lion of Tarningham -Park in his den, it was nevertheless with great pain and difficulty -that he had screwed his courage to the sticking-point, "why, Sir John, -I come upon business, and it is better to transact affairs of -importance with a clear head." - -"Pooh, nonsense!" exclaimed the baronet; "no man ever did business -well without being half drunk. Look at my old friend Pitt, poor -fellow! and Charley Fox, too, Sir William Scott, and Dundas, and all -of them, not a set of jollier topers in the world than they were, and -are still--what are left of them. Well, here's health to the living -and peace to the dead--Burgundy, eh?" and he filled a glass for Mr. -Wittingham to the brim. - -The worthy magistrate took it, and drinking Sir John Slingsby's toast -was about to proceed to business, when the baronet again interrupted -him, saying, "Let me introduce you to my friends, Wittingham; there's -no fun in drinking with men you don't know. Dr. Miles you are -acquainted, this is my friend Mr. Beauchamp, and this my friend, -Captain Hayward. Gentlemen both, know, esteem, and admire Henry -Wittingham, Esq., one of the ornaments of the bench of the county -of ----, one of the trustees of the turnpike roads, a very active -magistrate, and a very honest man. Sink the shop, Witty," he -continued, in a friendly whisper to his companion, for Sir John seldom -if ever allowed Mr. Wittingham to escape without some allusion to his -previous occupations, which naturally made that gentleman hate him -mortally. "But before we have another glass, my good friend, I must -make you acquainted with these gentlemen's high qualities," proceeded -the baronet. "Here's Ned Hayward, the most deadly shot in Europe, -whether with pistol, rifle, or fowling-piece, nothing escapes him, -from the human form divine down to a cock-sparrow. The best angler in -England, too; would throw a fly into a tea-spoon at fifty yards -distance. He has come down for an interminable number of months to -catch my trout, kill my game, and drink my Claret. Then there is my -friend Mr. Beauchamp, more sentimentally given, a very learned man and -profound, loves poetry and solitary walks, and is somewhat for musing -melancholy made; but is a good hand at a trigger, too, I can tell -you--a light finger and a steady aim; ha! Beauchamp," and the baronet -winked his eye and laughed. - -Beauchamp smiled good-humouredly, and in order to change the course of -the conversation, which was not exactly what suited him, he said that -he had the pleasure of a slight acquaintance with Mr. Wittingham. - -Ned Hayward however, somewhat to Beauchamp's surprise, seemed -determined to encourage their host in his light and rattling talk, and -taking the latter up where Sir John had left it, he said, "Oh dear -yes, I dare say we shall have capital sport down here. The old work of -the 51st, Sir John; clearing all the fences, galloping over all the -turnips, riding down the young wheat, forgetting the limits of the -manor, letting the beasts out of the pound, making a collection of -knockers and bell-pulls, fighting the young men, and making love to -the young women--Mr. Wittingham, the wine stands with you." - -Mr. Wittingham filled his glass and drank, saying with a grave and -somewhat alarmed air, "I don't think that would exactly do in this -county, Sir; the magistrates are rather strict here." - -"The devil they are," said Ned Hayward, with a good deal of emphasis, -the meaning of which Mr. Wittingham could not well help understanding; -but the next moment the young gentleman went on: "but who cares a pin -for magistrates, Mr. Wittingham? They're nothing but a parcel of old -women." - -"Halo, halo, Ned," cried Sir John, "you forget in whose presence you -are speaking; reverence the bench, young man, reverence the bench; -and if you can't do that, reverence the colonel." - -"Oh, you're a great exception to the general rule," replied Captain -Hayward, "but what I say is very true, nevertheless: and as I like to -define my positions, I will give you a lexicographical description of -the magistrates. They should be called in any dictionary, a body -of men selected from the most ignorant of the people, for the -mal-administration of good laws." - -"Bravo, bravo," shouted Sir John Slingsby, roaring with laughter, and -even Dr. Miles nodded his head with a grave smile, saying, "Too just a -definition indeed." - -Mr. Wittingham looked confounded, but Sir John passed him the bottle, -and for relief he again fell to his glass and emptied it. Now to men -not quite sure of their position, there is nothing so completely -overpowering as jest and merriment with a dash of sarcasm. In grave -argument, where they have their own vanity for their backer, they will -always venture to meet men both of superior abilities and superior -station, whether in so doing they expose themselves or not; for in -that case their notions are generally formed beforehand, and they are -fully convinced that those notions are just; but in a combat of the -wit, it requires to be a very ready man, and also to have all those -habits of society which enable one to make the reply tart enough, with -every semblance of courtesy. On the bench and in the justice-room Mr. -Wittingham would often venture to spar with Sir John Slingsby, and -sometimes with a good deal of success; for although the baronet had -much greater natural abilities and information, yet he had so many -foibles and failings, and occasionally such a degree of perversity, -that from time to time his adversary would get hold of a weak point, -and drive him into a corner. It always ended, however, by Sir John -coming off triumphant; for when he found that argument failed him he -had recourse to ridicule, and in two minutes would utterly confound -his antagonist, and overwhelm him amidst peals of laughter. - -In the present instance Mr. Wittingham found that Sir John was in one -of his jocular moods, and scarcely dared to say a word lest he should -bring some of his hard jests upon his head, especially when he had the -strong support which Ned Hayward seemed capable of giving. He was -therefore anxious to proceed to the business that brought him as -speedily as possible; and giving up the defence of the magistracy -after a momentary pause, he said, "Really, Sir John, as I must get -home soon--" - -"Not till you have finished your bottle, man," cried Sir John -Slingsby, pushing the Burgundy to him; "whoever comes to see me after -dinner, must fight me or drink a bottle with me; so here's to your -health, Witty--a bumper, a bumper, and no heel-taps." - -Now the glasses at Sir John Slingsby's table might well be called -wine-glasses, for they seldom had any other liquor in them; but at the -same time, in size they were not much less than those vessels which -are named tumblers, I suppose from their being less given to tumbling -than any other sort of glass. Mr. Wittingham had drank three already, -besides the moderate portion which he had taken at his own dinner; but -in order to get rid of the subject, he swallowed another of strong -Burgundy, and then commenced again, saying, "Really, Sir John, we must -go to business. We can sip your good wine while we are talking the -affair over." - -"Sip it!" exclaimed his host, "whoever heard of a man sipping such -stuff as this? Nobody ever sips his wine but some lackadaisical, -lovelorn swain, with a piece of Cheshire cheese before him, making -verses all the time upon pouting lips and rounded hips, and sparkling -eyes and fragrant sighs, and pearly teeth and balmy breath, and -slender nose and cheek that glows, and all the O's! and all the I's! -that ever were twisted into bad metre and had sense; or else the -reformed toper, who is afraid of exceeding the stint that his doctors -have allowed him, and lingers out every drop with the memory of many a -past carouse before his eyes. No, no, such wine as this is made to be -swallowed at a mouthful, washing the lips with a flood of enjoyment, -stimulating the tongue, spreading a glow over the palate, and cooling -the tonsils and the throat only to inflame them again with fresh -appetite for the following glass--sip it! why hang it, Wittingham, it -is to insult a good bottle of wine, and I trust that you may be shot -dead by a Champagne cork to teach you better manners." - -"Well, then," cried Mr. Wittingham, stimulated to _répartee_ by -impatience, "I will say, Sir John, that we can swill your wine while -we are talking of business." - -"Ay, that's something like," cried Sir John Slingsby, not at all -discomposed, "you shall swill the wine, and I will drink it, that'll -suit us both. Beauchamp we will let off, because he's puny, and Doctor -Miles because he's reverend; Ned Hayward will do us justice, glass for -glass, I'll answer for it. So another bumper, and then to business; -but first we'll have lights, your worship, for it's growing dusky," -and Sir John rose to ring the bell. - -Scarcely, however, had he quitted his seat, when there was heard a -loud report. One of the panes of glass in the window flew in shining -splinters into the room, and a ball whistling through, passed close to -the head of Mr. Wittingham, knocked off his wig, and lodged in the eye -of a Cupid who was playing with his mother in a large picture on the -other side of the room. - -"Zounds!" cried Sir John Slingsby. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. -In which better days seem to dawn upon the Poacher. - - -A high-sounding oath from Sir John Slingsby passed unnoticed, for -though every one had heard the shot, each person's attention was -suddenly called to an object of his own. Ned Hayward sprang to the -window and looked out, Dr. Miles started up and turned towards Mr. -Wittingham; and Beauchamp, who was sitting next to that gentleman, -suddenly stretched out his hand, and caught him by the arm and -shoulder, so as to break his fall to the ground, though not to stop -it; for the worthy magistrate, with a low exclamation of horror, which -reached no ear but one, pressed his hand upon his heart, and fell -fainting to the ground, just as if the ball, which had entered the -window, had found out the precise spot in his skin, which had not been -dipped in Styx. Nevertheless, when Sir John and Mr. Beauchamp, and Dr. -Miles, lifted him up off the floor, and seated him on his chair again, -though they undoubtedly expected to find one of those small holes -which I should call a life-door, were it not that they never let life -in, if they often let life out, yet no wound of any kind was to be -perceived, except in the wig. Lights were brought, servants hurried in -and out, cold water was sprinkled on the old gentleman's face, the -butler recommended sal volatile, Sir John Slingsby tried brandy; and -at length Mr. Wittingham was brought to himself. Every one was busy -about him but Ned Hayward; and as Ned was a very charitable and -benevolent man, it may be necessary to say why he bestowed no care nor -attention on Mr. Wittingham. The fact was, that he did not know any -thing was the matter with him; for Ned Hayward was no longer in the -room; the window was open, indeed, and Ned Hayward had jumped out. - -To return to Mr. Wittingham, however, no sooner did he recover breath -enough to articulate, than he declared, in a low voice, he must go -home. - -"Why, my dear fellow!" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, "you're not hurt, -only frightened, devilish frightened, that's all, and you're still -white about the gills, and fishy in the eyes. Come, come, finish your -bottle, and get rid of that haddock-look before you go, or you may -faint again in the carriage." - -"I must go home," repeated Mr. Wittingham, in a dismal tone. - -"Then what's to become of the business you came about?" inquired the -baronet. - -"I must leave it in your hands, Sir John," replied Mr. Wittingham, -rising feebly; "l have no head for it to-night. It was about that -notorious poacher, Gimlet, I came; the constables will tell you how I -happen to have him apprehended; but I must go, I must go, I have no -head for it." - -"Though the bullet kept out, plenty of lead has got in, somehow or -other," muttered Sir John Slingsby, as his fellow-magistrate tottered -towards the door; but the baronet was not a bad-hearted man, and, -taking compassion on Mr. Wittingham's state, he followed him with a -large glass of Madeira, insisted upon his drinking it, and supported -him under the right arm to the hall-door, where he delivered him over -to the hands of the butler to put him safely into his carriage. While -this was being effected, Sir John turned round and gazed upon the -figure of Stephen Gimlet, and the two officers who had him in charge; -and if his look was not peculiarly encouraging to the poacher, it -certainly was much less so towards the constables. To say the truth, a -constable was an animal, towards which, for some reason or another, -Sir John Slingsby entertained a great dislike. It is not impossible -that his old roving propensities, and sundry encounters with the -particular kind of officer which was now under his thumb, had -impressed him with a distaste for the whole species; but, assuredly, -had he been called upon to give a Linæan description of the creature, -it would have been: "A two-legged beast of the species hound, made to -be beaten by blackguards and bullied by magistrates." - -Waving his hand, therefore, with an air of dignity, over his extended -white waistcoat, he said,-- - -"Bring him in," and leading the way back to the dining-room, he seated -himself in his great chair, supported on either side by decanters; and -while the constables were entering, and taking up a position before -him, he pushed a bottle either way, to Dr. Miles and Mr. Beauchamp, -saying, in as solemn a tone as if he were delivering sentence of -death, "A bumper, gentlemen, for a toast--now Master Leathersides, why -do you bring this man before me?" - -"Why, please your worship's honour," replied the constable, "we -apprehended him for poaching in the streets of Tarningham, and--" - -"Halloah!" cried Sir John, "poaching in the streets of Tarningham, -that's a queer place to set springes. Leathersides, you're drunk." - -"No please your honour's worship, I arn't," whimpered the constable, -who would at any time rather have been sent for a week to prison, than -be brought up before Sir John Slingsby; "I said, as how we apprehended -him in the streets of Tarningham, not as he was a-poaching there." - -"Then where was he poaching when you apprehended him?" demanded Sir -John, half in fun, half in malice, and with a full determination of -puzzling the constable. - -"Can't say he was poaching anywhere just then," replied Mr. -Leathersides. - -"Then you'd no business to apprehend him," replied the baronet, -"discharge the prisoner, and evacuate the room. Gentlemen, are you -charged? The king, God bless him!" and he swallowed down his glass of -wine, winking his eye to Beauchamp, at what he thought his good joke -against the constables. - -Mr. Leathersides, however, was impressed with a notion, that he must -do his duty, and that that duty was to remonstrate with Sir John -Slingsby; therefore, after a portentous effort, he brought forth the -following words:-- - -"But, Sir John, when we'd a got 'un, Mr. Wittingham said we were to -keep un'." - -"Where's your warrant?" thundered Sir John. - -"Can't say we've got one," said the other constable, for Mr. -Leathersides was exhausted. - -"If you apprehended him illegally," said Sir John Slingsby, -magisterially, "you detained him still more illegally. Leathersides, -you're a fool. Mr. What's-your-name, you're an ass. You've both -violated the law, and I've a great mind to fine you both--a bumper--so -I will, by Jove. Come here and drink the king's health;" and Sir John -laughed heartily while inflicting this very pleasant penalty, as they -thought it, upon the two constables; but resolved to carry the joke -out, the baronet, as soon as the men had swallowed the wine, -exclaimed, in a pompous tone: "Stephen Gimlet, you are charged with -poaching in the streets of Tarningham, and convicted on the sufficient -testimony of two constables. Appear before the court to receive -sentence. Prisoner, your sentence is this; that you be brought up to -this table, and there to gulp down, at a single and uninterrupted -draught, one glass of either of those two liquors called Port or -Madeira, at the discretion of the court, to the health of our -sovereign lord the king; and that, having so done, you shall be -considered to have made full and ample satisfaction for the said -offence." - -"With all my heart, Sir," said Ste Gimlet, taking the glass of wine -which Sir John Slingsby offered him. "Here's to the king, God bless -him! and may he give us many such magistrates as Sir John Slingsby." - -"Sir, I've a great mind to fine you another bumper for adding to my -toast," exclaimed the baronet; and then, waving his hand to the -constables, he continued: "Be off, the prisoner is discharged; you've -nothing more to do with him--stay here, Master Gimlet, I've something -to say to you;" and when the door was shut, he continued, with a very -remarkable change of voice and manner: "Now, my good friend, I wish to -give you a little bit of warning. As I am Lord of the Manor for many -miles round the place where you live, the game you have taken must be -mine, and, therefore, I have thought myself justified in treating the -matter lightly, and making a joke of it. You may judge, however, from -this, that I speak disinterestedly, and as your friend, when I point -out to you, that if you follow the course you are now pursuing, it -will inevitably lead you on to greater offences. It will deprave your -mind, teach you to think wrong right, to resist by violence the -assertion of the law, and, perhaps, in the end, bring you to the awful -crime of murder, which, whether it be punished in this world or not, -is sure to meet its retribution hereafter." - -"Upon my life and soul, Sir John," said Ste Gimlet, earnestly, "I will -never touch a head of game of yours again." - -"Nor any one else's, I hope," answered Sir John Slingsby, "you are an -ingenious fellow I have heard, and can gain your bread by better -means." - -"How?" inquired the man, emphatically; but the moment after he added, -"I will try at all events. This very morning, I was thinking I would -make a change, and endeavour to live like other people; but then I -fancied it would be of no use. First, people would not employ me, and -I feared to try them. Next, I feared myself; for I have led a wild -rambling kind of life, and have got to love it better than any other. -If there were a chance of men treating me kindly and giving me -encouragement, it might answer; but if I found all faces looking cold -on me, and all hearts turned away from me, though perhaps I have -deserved it, I am afraid I should just fall back into my old ways -again. However, I will try--I will try for the child's sake, though it -will be a hard struggle at first, I am sure." - -Sir John Slingsby laid his finger upon his temple and thought for a -moment. He had been serious for a long while--fully five minutes--and -he had some difficulty in keeping up his grave demeanour; but that was -not all: some words which Ned Hayward had let fall almost at random, -suggested a plan to his mind which he hesitated whether he should -adopt or not. Perhaps--though he was a kind-hearted man, as we have -seen and said before--he might have rejected it, had it not been for -its oddity; but it was an odd plan, and one that jumped with his -peculiar humour. He was fond of doing all sorts of things that other -men would not do, just because they would not--of trying experiments -that they dared not try--of setting at defiance every thing which had -only custom and convention for its basis; and, therefore, after an -instant's meditation, given to the consideration of whether people -would suppose he was actuated by benevolence or eccentricity (he would -not have had them think he did an odd thing from benevolence for the -world), he went on as the whim prompted to reply to Stephen Gimlet's -last words, mingling a high degree of delicacy of feeling with his -vagaries, in the strangest manner possible, as the reader will see. - -"Well Ste," he said, "perhaps we may make it less of a struggle than -you think. I'll tell you what, my fine fellow, you're very fond of -game--a little too fond perhaps. Now, my friend, Ned Hayward--that's -to say, Captain Hayward. Where the deuce he has gone to?--I don't -known--ran after the clumsy fellow, I suppose, who fired through the -window and missed the deer too, I'll be bound. It must have been -Conolly, the underkeeper; nobody but Conolly would have thought of -firing right towards the window--but as I was saying, my friend, Ned -Hayward, said just now that you'd make a capital keeper. What do you -think of it, Gimlet? Wouldn't it do?" - -"Not under Mr. Hearne, Sir," answered Ste Gimlet. "We've had too many -squabbles together;" and he shook his head. - -"No, no, that would never do," replied Sir John, laughing; "you'd soon -have your charges in each other's gizzards. But you know Denman died a -week ago, over at the Trottington Hall manor, on t'other side of the -common--you know it, you dog--you know it well enough, I can see by -the twinkling of your eye. I dare say you have looked into every nest -on the manor, since the poor fellow was bagged by the grim archer. -Well, but as I was saying, there's the cottage empty and eighteen -shillings a week, and you and Hearne can run against each other, and -see which will give us the best day's sport at the end of the year. -What do you say, Gimlet? you can go and take possession of the cottage -this very night; I don't want it to stand empty an hour longer." - -"Thank you a thousand times, Sir John," said the man heartily; "you -are a kind gentleman indeed, but I must go up to my own place first. -There's my little boy, you know. Poor little man, I dare say he has -cried his heart out." - -"Pooh, nonsense, not a bit," said the baronet, "I'll take care of all -that. I'll send up and have him fetched." - -The man smiled and shook his bread, saying, "He would not come with a -stranger." - -"What will you bet?" cried Sir John Slingsby, laughing. "I'll bet you -a guinea against your last ferret, that he'll come directly. Here, -Matthew--Moore--Harrison," he continued, first ringing the bell, and -then opening the door to call, "some of you d--d fellows run up and -bring Ste Gimlet's little boy. Tell him, his daddy's here," and Sir -John Slingsby sat down and laughed prodigiously, adding every now and -then, "I'll take any man five guineas of it that he comes." - -There is an exceedingly good old English expression, which smart -people have of late years banished from polite prose, but which I -shall beg leave to make use of here. Sir John Slingsby then was known -to be a _comical fellow_. Stephen Gimlet was well aware that such was -the case; and though he thought the joke was a somewhat extravagant -one, to send a man-servant up to the moor at that hour of the evening, -to fetch down his little boy, yet still he thought it a joke. His only -anxiety, however, was to prevent its being carried too far, and, -therefore, after twirling his hat about for a minute in silence, he -said-- - -"Well, Sir John, perhaps if he's told I am here, he may come; but now -I recollect, I locked the door; and besides, there are all my things -to be fetched down; so if you will be kind enough to give me till -to-morrow, Sir, I will accept your bounty with a grateful heart, and -do my best to deserve it--and I am sure I am most grateful to the -gentleman who first spoke of such a thing. I am, indeed," he added, -with some degree of hesitation, and cheek rather reddened; for while -Sir John was still laughing heartily, he saw that Mr. Beauchamp's fine -lustrous eyes were fixed upon him with a look of deep interest, and -that Doctor Miles was blowing his nose violently, while his eyelids -grew rather red. - -"I don't doubt it in the least, Ste," said Sir John; "Ned Hayward is a -very good fellow--a capital fellow--you owe him a great deal, I can -tell you. There! there!" he continued, as the door opened to give -admission to the servant, "I told you he would come--didn't I tell -you? There he is, you see!" - -Stephen Gimlet gazed for an instant in silent astonishment when he -beheld the boy in the butler's arms, wrapped warmly up in the -housekeeper's shawl; for at Sir John's indisputable commands, they had -taken him from his bed. He was confounded: he was one thunderstruck; -but the moment after, the child, recovering from the first dazzling -effect of the light, held out his little hands to his father with a -cry of delight, exclaiming, "There's my daddy, there's my daddy!" and -the poacher sprang forward and caught him to his heart. - -Sir John Slingsby was himself overset by what he had done: the tears -started in his eyes; but still he laughed louder than ever; -out-trumpeted Doctor Miles with blowing his nose, wiped away the tears -with the back of his hand, put on his spectacles to hide them, and -then looked over the spectacles to see Ste Gimlet and his boy. - -The child was nestling on his father's breast and prattling to him; -but in a moment the man started and turned pale, exclaiming, -"Fire!--the place burnt! What in Heaven's name does he mean?" - -"There, there!" cried Doctor Miles, coming forward and making the man -sit down, seeing that he looked as ghastly as the dead, with strong -emotion. "Don't be alarmed, Stephen. Don't be agitated. Lift up the -voice of praise and thanksgiving to God, for a great mercy shown you -this day, not alone in having saved your child from a terrible death, -but in having sent you a warning with a most lenient hand, which will -assuredly make you a better man for all your future days. Lift up the -voice of praise, I say, from the bottom of your heart." - -"I do indeed!" cried the poacher, "I do indeed!" and bending down his -head upon the boy's neck, he wept. "But how did it happen?--how could -it happen?" he continued, after a while, "and how, how was he saved?" - -"Why, Ned Hayward saved him, to be sure," cried the baronet. "Gallant -Ned Hayward--who but he? He saw the place burning from the top of the -barrow, man, rushed in, burnt himself, and brought out the boy." - -"God bless him! God bless him!" cried the father. "But the fire," he -added, "how could the place take fire?" - -"That nasty cross man set it on fire, daddy, I'm sure," said the boy; -"the man that was there this morning. He came when you were away, and -he wouldn't answer when I called, and I saw him go away, through the -peep-hole, with a lighted stick in his mouth. I didn't do it indeed, -daddy." - -A glimpse of the truth presented itself to Stephen Gimlet's mind; and -though he said nothing, he clenched one hand tight, so tight that the -print of the nails remained in the palm; but then his thoughts turned -to other things, and rising up out of the chair in which Doctor Miles -had placed him, he turned to Sir John Slingsby, and said, "Oh, Sir, I -wish I could say how much I thank you!" - -"There, there, Stephen," replied the baronet, waving his hand kindly, -"no more about it. You have lost one house and you have got another; -you have given up one trade and taken a better. Your boy is safe and -well; so as the good doctor says, praise God for all. Take another -glass of wine, and when you have talked a minute with the little man, -give him back to the housekeeper. He shall be well taken care of till -you are settled, and in the meantime you can go down to the Marquis of -Granby in the village, and make yourself comfortable till to-morrow. -Hang me if I drink any more wine to-night. All this is as good as a -bottle;" and Sir John rose to join the ladies. - -The other two gentlemen very willingly followed his example; but -before they went, Beauchamp, who had had his pocket-book in his hand -for a minute or two, took a very thin piece of paper out of it, and -went round to Stephen Gimlet. - -"You have lost all your furniture, I am afraid," he said, in a low -voice; "there is something to supply its place with more." - -"Lord bless you, Sir, what was my furniture worth?" said the poacher, -looking at the note in his hand, with a melancholy smile; but by that -time Beauchamp was gone. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. -The Pursuit. - - -"I wonder where the deuce Ned Hayward can be gone," was the -exclamation of Sir John Slingsby about ten o'clock at night when -he found that his young guest did not reappear; and so do I wonder, -and perhaps so does the reader too. It will therefore be expedient, -in order to satisfy all parties, to leave the good people at -Tarningham-park and pursue our friend at once, for we have no time to -spare if we would catch him. He is a desperate hard rider when there -is any object in view, and he certainly left the park on horseback. - -When last we saw him, the hour was about half-past seven or a quarter -to eight, night was beginning to fall, and without doing any thing -figurative in regard to the evening--without comparing the retiring -rays of light to the retreat of a defeated army, or the changing -colour of the sky to the contents of a London milkmaid's pail under -the influence of the pump--we may be permitted to say that the heavens -were getting very gray; the rose and the purple had waned, and night, -heavy night, was pouring like a deluge through the air. Nevertheless, -the night was fine, a star or two shone out, and the moment Ned -Hayward sprang to the window through which the ball had come, he saw a -figure hurrying away through the trees at the distance of about three -hundred yards. They were fine old trees with no underwood--English -park trees, wide apart, far-spreading, gigantic; and Ned Hayward -paused an instant to gaze after he had jumped out of the window, and -then took to his heels and ran on as fast as a pair of long, strong, -well-practised legs would carry him. There was turf below him and his -feet fell lightly, but he had not gained more than fifty yards upon -the figure when he saw through the bolls another figure not human but -equine. For a short distance the person he pursued did not seem aware -that he had a follower, but before the time arrived when the horse -became apparent some indications seemed to reach his ear, and, if Ned -Hayward ran quick, the other seemed to run nearly as fast. When the -young gentleman was within about a hundred yards of him, however, the -man was upon the horse's back and galloping away. - -Ned Hayward stopped and followed him with his eyes, marking the course -he took as far as the light would permit. He then listened, and heard -the noise of the horse's feet distinctly beating the ground in one -direction. The next moment the sounds became confused with others, as -if another horse were near, and turning round to the road which led -from the gate on the side of Tarningham, the young officer saw a -mounted man coming slowly up towards the house. - -"By Jove, this is lucky!" said Ned Hayward, as he recollected having -heard Sir John Slingsby tell a groom to carry a note to Mr. Wharton, -the lawyer: and running down to the road as fast as possible, he -stopped the servant, and bade him dismount and let him have the horse -immediately. - -The groom recognised his master's guest; but he had some hesitation, -and began his reply with a "Please, Sir--" But Ned cut him short at -once, in a very authoritative tone; and in two minutes he was in the -saddle. He paused not an instant to think, for calculation was a very -rapid process with him, and, during his morning's rambles, he had -marked, with a soldier's eye, all the bearings and capabilities of the -park and the ground round about it. The result of his combinations was -thus expressed upon the mental tablet, or nearly thus:-- - -"The fellow cannot get out by the way he has taken; for there is no -gate, and the park paling is planted at the top of the high bank, so -that no man in England dare leap it. He must take to the right or -left. On the left he will be checked by the river and the thick copse -which would bring him round close to the house again. He will, -therefore, take to the right, and pass the gates on the top of the -hill. He must come down half way to the other gates, however, before -he can get out of the lane; and I shall not be much behind him." - -He rode straight, therefore, to the gates on the Tarningham side, -passed them, turned sharp to the left, galloped up the sandy lane -under the park wall, and blessed his stars as he saw the edge of the -moon beginning to show itself in the east. - -"Hang me if I give up the chase till I have run him down," said Ned -Hayward; but when a man sets out hunting a fox with such a -determination, he never knows how far the fox or the determination may -lead him. Away he went, however, like a shot. The horse was a strong, -well-built cob, of about fourteen hands three, which had been -accustomed to bear the great bulk and heavy riding of Sir John -Slingsby to cover; and it sprang out under the lighter weight and -better balance of the younger man, as if it had a feather on its back. -Up this hill they went, all gathered together like a woolpack: an easy -hand, an easy seat, and an exact poise, made the rider feel to the -beast not half his real weight; and, in two minutes, Ned Hayward's -quick ear caught the sound of other hoofs besides those underneath -him. "I shall have him now!" he said; but suddenly the sounds became -fainter. Three springs more and he had the horseman before him; but at -a hundred and fifty yards' distance, going over the moor. There was a -fence and ditch on the right hand; and Ned Hayward pushed his horse at -them. The good little beast rose gallantly by the moonlight; but there -was a ditch on the other side also, which neither saw. He cleared it -with his fore-feet, but his hind went in, and over he came sprawling. -Neither rider nor beast were hurt; and Ned Hayward picked him up in a -minute, and away again. - -The fugitive had gained ground, nevertheless, and was shooting off -like a falling star; but the moonlight was now bright, lying in long -misty lines upon the moor. A few rapid steps brought them to the sandy -road, and on--on they dashed as if for life. On, however, dashed the -other horseman likewise. He knew the ground well, his horse was good, -he really rode for life. It was as even a race as ever was seen. The -wide moor extended for miles, every tree and bush was visible, and -even the distant belts of planting where the common ended on the right -could be seen lying black and heavy against the moonlight sky; but yet -there was a darkness over the ground which showed that it was not day; -and still, as he urged the willing beast forward, Ned Hayward kept a -ready hand upon the bridle in case of need. Soon he thought he gained -upon the other, but then he saw him turn from the sandy road and take -over the turf to the left. Ned Hayward ran across, and pressed hard -the beast's sides. On, on they went; but the next instant the ground -seemed darker before him, and the pursuer checked up his horse -suddenly upon the very edge of a deep pit, while the other rode on -unobstructed on the further side. - -Not more than a moment was lost or gained, however, for turning -quickly round the edge of the pit, though keeping a sharper eye upon -the ground than before, Ned Hayward still followed a diagonal course, -which saved him as much of the distance between him and the fugitive -as he had lost by the temporary check. When he, too, had got to the -other side of the pit, the space between them was about the same that -it had been at first, but the ground sloped gently downward, and then -spread out in a perfect flat with neither trees nor bushes, although -some thick rushy spots assumed here and there the appearance of -bunches of bramble, or bilberry, but afforded no interruption to the -horses' speed, and on they went, helter skelter, over the moor, as if -the great enemy were behind them. - -In a few minutes a light was visible on the right, and Ned Hayward -said to himself, "He is making for some house;" but the next instant -the light moved, flitting along from spot to spot, with a blue, -wavering, uncertain flame, and with a low laugh, the young gentleman -muttered, "A will-o'-the-wisp, that shan't lead me astray this time at -least." - -On he dashed keeping the horseman before him; but ere he had passed -the meteor a hundred yards, he felt the pace of his horse uneasy, the -ground seemed to quiver and shake under his rapid footfalls, and a -plashy sound was heard, as if the hoofs sank into a wet and marshy -soil. - -"A shaking bog, upon my life," said Ned Hayward, "but as he has gone -over it, so can I." - -With his horse's head held lightly up, his heels into its sides, the -bridle shaken every minute to give him courage, and a loud "Tally ho!" -as if he were in sight of a fox, on went Ned Hayward with the water -splashing up around him till the hoofs fell upon firmer ground, and a -slight slope upwards caught the moonlight, and showed the fugitive -scampering away with a turn to the right. - -"Hoiks, hoiks! haloo!" cried Ned Hayward, applying the flat of his -hand to the horse's flank, and, as if inspired by the ardour of the -chase, the brave little beast redoubled its efforts, and strained up -the hill after the larger horse, gaining perceptibly upon it. - -Clear and full in the moonlight the dark figure came out from the sky -as he cleared the edge of the hill, and in two seconds, or not much -more, Ned Hayward gained the same point. - -The figure was no longer visible. It had disappeared as if by magic; -horse and rider were gone together, and all that could be seen was the -gentle slope downward that lay at the horse's feet, a darkish spot -beyond, which the moon's rays did not reach, and then the moor -extending for about a couple of miles further, marked in its -undulations by strong light and shade. - -"Why, what the devil is this?" exclaimed Ned Hayward; but though he -sometimes indulged in an exclamation, he never let astonishment stop -him, and seeing that if the figure had taken a course to the right or -left he must have caught sight of it, he rode straight at the dark -spot in front, and found that it consisted of one of the large pits, -with which the moor was spotted, filled to the very top of the banks -with low stunted oaks, ashes, and birch trees. - -"Earthed him! earthed him!" said Ned Hayward, as he looked round, but -he made no further observation, and soon perceived the sandy cart-road -which the man must have taken to descend into the pit. - -The young gentleman was now a little puzzled; the natural pertinacity -and impetuosity of his disposition would have led him to plunge in -after the object of his chase, like a terrier dog after a badger, but -then he saw that by so doing, the man, who knew the ground apparently -much better than he did, would have the opportunity of doubling upon -him and escaping his pursuit, while he was losing himself among the -trees and paths. Rapid in all his calculations, and seeing that the -extent of the hollow was not very great, so that by the aid of the -moonlight, any figure which issued forth would become visible to him -as long as he remained above, Ned Hayward trotted round the edge of -the pit to make himself perfectly sure that there was no small path or -break in the banks, by which the object he had lodged in the bushes -beneath him, might effect its flight without his perceiving it. Having -ascertained this fact, he took up his position on the highest ground -near, that he might command the whole scene round, and then -dismounting, led his horse up and down to cool it gradually, saying to -himself, "I will stop here all night rather than lose him. Some -persons must come by in the morning who will help mc to beat the -bushes." - -Ned Hayward concluded his reflections, however, with a sentence which -seemed to have very little connexion with them. - -"She's an exceedingly pretty girl," he said, "and seems to be as -amiable as she is pretty, but I can't let that stop me." - -I do not at all understand what he meant, but perhaps the reader may -find some sense in it. But while he was reflecting on pretty girls, -and combining them in the honestest way possible with his hunt after a -man who had fired a shot into the window of Tarningham House, an -obtrusive recollection crossed his mind that moons will go down, and -that then wide open moors with many a shaking bog and pitfall were not -the most lustrous and well-lighted places upon earth, which -remembrance or reflection puzzled him most exceedingly. Though we have -never set up Ned Hayward for a conjuror, he was an exceedingly clever, -dashing, and amiable person; but he was far from being either a -magician or an astronomer, and not having an almanack in his pocket, -nor able to read it if he had, he was not at all aware of the hour at -which the moon went down. He saw, indeed, that she had already passed -her prime, and was verging towards decline, and it was with a very -unpleasant sensation that he thought, "Hang her old untidy horns, she -will be gone before the day breaks, and a pleasant dark place it will -be when she no longer gives me light. I will stop and watch, however, -but I must change my tactics, and hide under the hill. Perhaps he may -think I am gone, and come out with fresh courage. The young -blackguard! it would be a good turn to all the world to hang him, if -it is but to prevent him marrying such a nice girl as that, who is a -great deal too good for him. He won't thank me, however, for my -pains." - -This thought, somehow or other, was not pleasant to our friend Ned -Hayward, and, indeed, like most of us, in many even of the ordinary -circumstances of life, he was affected by very different emotions. Why -it was, or wherefore, he could not tell, but he had been seized with a -strong inclination to hang, or otherwise dispose of any gentleman whom -he could suspect of being a favoured lover of Mary Clifford's; and, -yet on the other hand he had every disposition in the world to oblige -Mary Clifford himself. These two objects seemed incompatible, but -there is a fashion in the world which has a strange knack of trying to -overcome impossibilities, and sometimes succeeds too--at least in -overcoming those things which fathers and mothers, relations, -guardians and friends, have pronounced to be insurmountable. At all -events Ned Hayward made up his mind that it was his duty not to -abandon his pursuit so long as there was a chance of its being -successful, and, consequently, he drew his horse a little further from -the edge of the pit, as soon as he had considered the peculiar -circumstances of Mistress Moon, and endeavoured to keep out of sight -as far as possible, while he himself watched eagerly, with nothing but -his head as far as the eyes above the edge of the acclivity. - -Fancy is a wonderful thing, and it has been accounted for some people -as good as physic. I should say it was better for most men, but yet, -taken in too large doses it is dangerous, very dangerous. Now Ned -Hayward had, that night, taken too large a dose, and the effect was -this: he imagined he was perfectly well acquainted with the figure, -person, and appearance of the horseman whom he had hunted from under -the walls of Tarningham-park to the spot where he then stood, with his -horse's bridle over his arm. He could have sworn to him!--very lucky -it was that nobody called upon him to do so, as he found out within a -quarter of an hour afterwards. Fancy painted his face and his figure, -and a tremendous black eye, and a bruised cut down the side of his -nose. Now as the man lay there quietly ensconced in the pit, his face -was very different, his figure not at all the same, and no black eye, -no bruised cut, gave evidence of the scuffle which took place two -nights before. It was, in fact, quite a different person, and all the -young gentleman's calculations were wrong together. It is a very happy -thing indeed for a man in the wrong, when he acts in the same manner -as he would if he were right. His doing so, it is true, sometimes -proceeds from good sense, sometimes from good feeling, sometimes from -fortunate circumstances, but, at all events, such was Ned Hayward's -case in the present instance, for he had made up his mind to remain -upon the watch, and he would have watched as zealously and only a -little more pleasantly, if he had known perfectly well who the man -was, instead of mistaking him for another. When he had remained about -seven minutes and a half, however--I cannot speak to a few seconds -more or less, and a slight mistake will make no great difference, as -the first heat was over, and our friends were only taking breathing -time; but when he had remained for about seven minutes and a half, his -horse shied at something behind him, and when the young gentleman -turned round, he perceived a long shadow cross the space of moonlight -on the common, showing that some living object was moving in a -slanting direction between him and the south-western side of the sky. -The first question he asked himself was naturally, who he could be, -and the first answer that suggested itself was, "Perhaps one of this -fellow's comrades." - -Two to one, however, were not odds that at all daunted our young -friend; and turning quite round, for an instant he looked at the -figure as it came down, and then directed his eyes towards the edge of -the pit again. He kept a sharp look upon the approaching party, -however, nor, though the step upon the soft turf made no great sound, -his eyes were suddenly brought round upon the visitor of his solitary -watch, when about ten yards still remained between them. The moon now -served our good friend as well as if he had been a lover, showing him -distinctly the face, features, and figure of the person before him, -and he instantly exclaimed,-- - -"Ah, Stephen, this is lucky! What brought you here?" - -"Why, Sir," answered the man, "this is part of my beat, and as soon as -I had got some supper down at the village, as it is not fair to take a -gentleman's money without doing something for it, and as I am rather -accustomed to a walk on a moonlight night, I might as well just come -out to see that all is safe. I can guess what brought you here, for -Ned, the groom, told me you had taken his horse and were off like a -shot." - -"Hush," said Ned Hayward, "don't speak so loud, my good fellow; I have -earthed him amongst those trees in the pit there, but I could not dig -him out, for I was afraid he would escape one way while I was hunting -him the other." - -"Ah! ah! you have got him, then?" said Gimlet, "then, that's a piece -of luck. If he swings it will be no bad job; a bloody-minded -scoundrel!" - -Ned Hayward was somewhat surprised to hear his friend Wolf qualify by -so unsavoury an epithet a gentleman, whose friend and companion he had -very lately been; the young officer, however, knew a good deal of the -world and the world's ways, and he was not at all inclined to honour -the ci-devant poacher for so sudden a change of opinion. His first -thought was, this man must be a scoundrel at heart, after all, to -abuse a man whom he has been consorting with in this manner, without -any motive for so doing, except the simple fact of a change in his own -avocations. If he thought young Wittingham a very respectable person -two or three hours ago, when he himself was only Wolf the poacher, I -do not understand why he should judge him a bloody-minded villain, now -that he himself has become Stephen Gimlet, second keeper to Sir John -Slingsby. This does not look like honesty. - -A second thought, however, upon all he had seen of the man's -character, the frankness, the hardihood, even the dogged determination -he had shown induced Captain Hayward to say to himself, "The fellow -can't know who it is;" and as thought is a very rapid thing, he -replied with a perceptible pause, "Yes, I have got him, safe and sure, -and if you'll help he cannot get away. You guess who he is, I dare -say, Stephen?" - -"O, to be sure, Sir," answered Gimlet; "it is that young scoundrel, -Harry Wittingham. Bad's the crow and bad's the egg," he continued, -without knowing he was using a Greek proverb, "I suppose it can be no -one else; for I heard from the old housekeeper down in the town, that -he swore like fury that he would have vengeance on his father if he -laid the information against him before Sir John." - -"Humph!" said Ned Hayward; "but then," he thought, "l am rather hard -upon the man too. The idea of any one in cold blood firing a shot at -his own father is certainly enough to rouse the indignation and -disgust even of men who would wink at, or take part in, lesser crimes -to which they are more accustomed. Come, Stephen," he continued aloud, -"now you are here, we may do better than I could alone. Let us see -what is to be done." - -"O, we'll soon manage it, Sir," answered Wolf, "I know every bit of -the pit well enough; there is but one place he can go to with his -horse, and but one road up the bank. He can round the inside of the -pit two ways, sure enough, but what we had best do is, to go in till -we can see what he is about, and then have a rush upon him together or -separate, or out him off either way." - -Captain Hayward agreed in this view of the case, and after a few more -words of consultation, the horse was fastened to a scraggy hawthorn -tree, and stooping down as low as possible to conceal their approach, -Captain Hayward and his companion advanced along the cart-road down -into the pit. The moment after they began to descend, the bank on the -right cast a shadow over them, which favoured their operations, and -Gimlet, taking the lead, crept silently along a path which had once -served for the waggons that carried the sand out of the pit, but was -now overgrown with grass and hemmed in with bushes, shrubs, and trees -of forty or fifty years growth. No moonlight penetrated there, and all -was dark, gloomy, and intricate. Now the path turned to the right, now -to the left, then proceeded straight forward again, and then began to -mount a little elevation in the surface, or floor, as the miners would -call it, of the pit itself, still thickly surrounded by green shrubs, -through which, however, the slanting beams of the moon were shining -over the edge of the pit. Stephen Gimlet's steps became even still -more quiet and cautious, and he whispered to Ned Hayward to walk -lightly for fear the fugitive should catch a sound of their approach, -and make his escape. Each step occupied several seconds, so carefully -was it planted; the slight rustling of the leaves, catching upon their -clothes, and each falling back upon a branch, which, pushed aside as -they passed, was dashed back upon those behind, made them pause and -listen, thinking that the object of their eager pursuit must have -caught the sound as well as their own nearer ears. At length Stephen -Gimlet stopped, and putting back his hand, helped his companion aloof -for an instant, while he leaned forward and brought his eyes close to -a small hole between the branches. Then, drawing Ned Hayward forward, -he pointed in the same direction in which he had been looking, with -his right finger, and immediately laid it upon his lips as a token to -be silent. Ned Hayward bent his head and gazed through the aperture as -his companion had done. The scene before him was a very peculiar one. -In broken beams, filtered, as we may call it, by the green leaves and -higher branches, the moonlight was streaming upon a small open space, -where the ground rose into a swelling knoll, covered with green turf -and moss. There was one small birch-tree in the midst, and a hawthorn -by its side, but all the rest was clear, and on the right hand could -be seen, marked out by the yellow sand, the cart-road which led to the -moor above. Standing close to the two little trees was a horse, a -fine, strong, powerful bay, with a good deal of bone and sinew, long -in the reach, but what is unusual in horses of that build, with a -chine and shoulder like those of a wild boar. Close to the horse, with -the bridle thrown over his arm, and apparently exceedingly busy upon -something he was doing, stood a tall, powerful man, whose face, from -the position in which he had placed himself, could not be seen; his -back, in short, was towards Ned Hayward and his companion, but from -under his left arm protruded part of the stock of a gun, which a -moonbeam that fell upon it, showed as plainly as the daylight could -have done. From the position in which he held the firelock it seemed -to Ned Hayward as if he were attending to the priming, and the moment -afterwards the click of the pan showed that the supposition was -correct. - -At the same time this sound met his ear the young gentleman was drawn -gently back by the hand of his companion, and the latter whispered, -"That's Harry Wittingham's horse, I'd swear to him amongst a thousand, -but that's not Henry Wittingham himself, of that I'm quite sure." - -"I cannot see his face," answered Ned Hayward, in the same low tone, -"but the figure seems to me very much the same." - -"Hush! he's moving," said the man; "better let us go round and cut him -off by either road, you to the right and I to the left--straight -through that little path there--we shall have a shot for it, but we -must not mind that--see he is looking at his girths." - -The man whom they spoke of had seemed perfectly unconscious of the -presence of any such unwelcome visitors near him. His motions were all -slow and indifferent, till the last words had passed Stephen Gimlet's -lips; then, however, he turned suddenly round, displaying a face that -Captain Hayward did not at all recollect, and gazing direct to the -spot where they stood, he raised his gun, already cocked, to his -shoulder, and fired. - -Fortunately, it so happened that Ned Hayward had taken one step in the -direction which his companion had pointed out, otherwise the ball, -with which the piece was charged, would have passed right through his -breast. As it was, it grazed his left arm, leaving a slight flesh -wound, and, seeing that they were discovered, both he and Stephen -Gimlet dashed straight through the trees towards the object of their -pursuit. He, in the meantime, had put his foot in the stirrup, and -sprung upon his horse's back. One rushed at him on either side, but -perchance, at all hazards and at all events, without a moment's -consideration, the man dashed at the poacher, brandishing the gun -which he held in his hand like a club. As he came up without giving -ground an inch, Stephen clutched at his bridle, receiving a tremendous -blow with the stock of his gun, and attempting to parry it with his -left hand. The man raised his rein, however, at the same moment he -struck the blow, and Stephen missed the bridle. He struck at him, with -his right, however, in hope of bringing him from his horse, and with -such force and truth did he deliver his reply to the application of -the gun-stock, that the man bent down to the horse's mane, but at the -same time he struck his spurs deep into the beast's flanks, passed his -opponent with a spring, and galloped up to the moor. - -"I am away after him," cried Ned Hayward, and darting along the road -like lightning, he gained the common, unhooked his own horse from the -tree, and recommenced the pursuit with the same figure still flying -before him. - -The steep rise of the pit had somewhat blown the fugitive's horse, and -for the first hundred yards or so Captain Hayward gained upon him, but -he soon brought all his knowledge of the country to bear, every pond, -every bank, every quagmire, gave him some advantage, and when, at the -end of about ten minutes, they neared the plantations at the end of -the moor, he was considerably further from his pursuers than when -their headlong race began. At length he disappeared where the road led -in amongst trees and hedgerows, and any further chase seemed to -promise little. Ned Hayward's was a sadly persevering disposition, -however; he had an exceedingly great dislike to be frustrated in any -thing, and on he therefore rode without drawing a rein, thinking, "in -this more populous part of the country I shall surely meet with some -whom he has passed, and who will give me information." - -It was a wonderfully solitary, a thinly peopled district, however, -which lay on the other side of the moor from Tarningham. They went -early to bed, too, in that part of the world, and not a living soul -did Ned Hayward meet for a full mile up the long lane. At the end of -that distance, the road branched into three, and in the true spirit of -knight-errantry, the young gentleman threw down his rein on the -horse's neck, leaving it to carry him on in search of adventures, -according to its own sagacity. The moor was about four miles and a -half across; but in the various turnings and windings they had taken, -now here now there upon its surface, horse and man had contrived to -treble that distance, or perhaps something more. There had been a trot -to the town before and back again, a hand-canter through the park, and -then a tearing burst across the moor. The horse therefore thought, -with some reason, that there had been enough of riding and being -ridden for one night, and as soon as Ned Hayward laid down the reins -it fell from a gallop to a canter, from a canter to a trot, and was -beginning to show an inclination to a walk, if not to stand still, -when Ned Hayward requested it civilly with his heels to go on a little -faster. It had now selected its path, however, remembering Ovid's -axiom, that the middle of the road is the safest. This was all that -Ned Hayward could have desired at its hands, if it had had any; but of -its hoofs he required that they should accelerate their motions, and -on he went again at a rapid pace, till, suddenly turning into a high -road, he saw nearly before him on the left hand, six large elms in a -row, with a horse-trough under the two nearest; an enormous sign -swinging between the two central trees, and an inn, with four steps up -to the door, standing a little back from the road. - -There was a good light streaming from some of the windows; the moon -was shining clear, but the dusty old elms were thick with foliage, -which effectually screened the modest figures on the sign from the -garish beams of either the domestic or the celestial luminary. - -Ned Hayward drew in his rein as soon as he beheld the inn and its -accompaniments; then approached softly, paused to consider, and -ultimately rode into the court-yard, without troubling the people of -the house with any notification of his arrival. He found two men in -the yard in stable dresses, who immediately approached with somewhat -officious civility, saying, "Take your horse, Sir?" - -And Ned Hayward, dismounting slowly, like a man very much tired, gave -his beast into their hands, and affected to saunter quietly back to -the inn, while they led his quiet little cob into the stables. Then -suddenly turning, after he had taken twenty steps, he followed at a -brisk pace, he passed the stable-door, walking deliberately down the -whole row of horses in the stalls, till he stopped opposite one--a -bright bay, with a long back, and thick, high crest, which was still -covered with lather, and had evidently been ridden furiously not many -minutes before. - -Turning suddenly to the ostler and his help, who had evidently viewed -his proceedings with more consternation than was quite natural, he -placed himself between them and the door and demanded with a bent brow -and a stern tone, "Where is the master of this horse?" - -The help, who was nearest, gasped in his face like a caught trout, but -the ostler pushed him aside, and replied instantly, "He is in-doors, -Sir, in number eleven." - -And turning on his heel, Ned Hayward immediately entered the inn. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. -The Letter. - - -We left Sir John Slingsby with an exclamation in his mouth. An -expression of wonder it was, at what could have become of his friend -Ned Hayward, and the reader may recollect that it was then about ten -o'clock at night. Quitting the worthy baronet in somewhat abrupt and -unceremonious haste, we hurried after the young officer ourselves, in -order to ascertain his fate and fortune with our own eyes; and now, -having done that, we must return once more to Tarningham-park, and -make an apology to Sir John, for our rude dereliction of his house and -company. He is a good-natured man, not easily put out of temper, so -that our excuses will be taken in good part; nor was he inclined to -make himself peculiarly anxious or apprehensive about any man on the -face of the earth; so that, even in the case of his dear friend Ned -Hayward, he let things take their chance, as was his custom, trusting -to fortune to bring about a good result, and philosophically -convinced, that if the blind goddess did not choose to do so, it was -not in his power to make her. During the evening he had once or twice -shown some slight symptoms of uneasiness when he looked round and -remarked his guest's absence; he had scolded his daughter a little, -too, for not singing as well as usual; and, to say the truth, she had -deserved it; for, whether it was the story told by the gentlemen on -their return from the dining-room had frightened her--it not being -customary at Tarningham-house to have shots fired through the -windows--or whether it was that she was uneasy at Captain Hayward's -prolonged absence, she certainly did not do her best at the piano. -Sing as ill as she would, however, Mary Clifford, who sang with her, -kept her in countenance. Now Mary was a very finished musician, with -an exceedingly rich, sweet-toned voice, flexible, and cultivated in a -high degree, with which she could do any thing she chose; so that it -was very evident that she either did not choose to sing well, or else -that she was thinking of something else. - -But to return to Sir John. Perhaps, if we could look into all the dark -little corners of his heart--those curious little pigeonholes that are -in the breast of every man, containing all the odd crotchets and -strange feelings and sensations, the unaccountable perversities, the -whimsical desires and emotions, that we so studiously conceal from the -common eye--it is not at all improbable that we should find a certain -degree of satisfaction, a comfort, a relief, derived by the worthy -baronet, from the unusual events which had chequered and enlivened -that evening; he had looked forward to the passing of the next six or -seven hours with some degree of apprehension; he had thought it would -be monstrous dull, with all the proprieties and decorums which he felt -called upon to maintain before his sister; and the excitement of the -interview with Mr. Wittingham, the examination of Stephen Gimlet, and -the unaccountable disappearance of Ned Hayward, supplied the vacancy -occasioned by the absence of the bottle and jest. Soon after the -gentlemen had entered the drawing-room, Sir John placed his niece and -his daughter at the piano, and engaged Dr. Miles, his sister, and even -Mr. Beauchamp in a rubber at whist; and though from time to time he -turned round his head to scold Isabella for singing negligently, yet -he contrived to extract amusement from the game,--laughing, talking, -telling anecdotes, commenting upon the play of his partner and his -opponents, and turning every thing into jest and merriment. Thus -passed the evening to the hour I have mentioned, when Mrs. Clifford -rose and retired to bed; and the first exclamation of Sir John, after -she was gone, was that which I have recorded. - -"It is strange, indeed," said Beauchamp, in reply; "but you know his -habits better than I do, and can better judge what has become of him." - -"Indeed, my dear uncle," said Miss Clifford, with an earnest air, "I -think you ought to make some inquiries. I do not think Captain Hayward -would have gone away in so strange a manner, without some -extraordinary motive, and after the alarming circumstance that has -happened to-night, one cannot well be without apprehension." - -"A harum-scarum fellow!" answered Sir John; "nobody ever knew what he -would do next. Some wild-goose scheme of his or another; I saw him -once jump off the mole at Gibraltar, when he was a mere boy, to save -the life of a fellow who had better have been drowned, a sneaking -Spanish thief, a half-smuggler and half-spy." - -"And did he save him?" exclaimed Miss Clifford, eagerly. - -"Oh, to be sure," answered Sir John; "he swims like a Newfoundland -dog, that fellow." - -"Your carriage, Sir," said a servant, entering and addressing Mr. -Beauchamp. - -"Here, Jones," cried Sir John Slingsby; "do you know what has become -of Captain Hayward? we have not seen him all night." - -"Why, Sir John," answered the man, "Ralph, the under-groom, told me he -had met the captain in the park, as he was returning from taking your -note to Mr. Wharton, and that Captain Hayward made him get down, -jumped upon the cob, and rode away out at the gates as hard as he -could go." - -"There, I told you so," said Sir John Slingsby, "Heaven only knows -what he is about, and there is no use trying to find it out; but this -is too bad of you, Mr. Beauchamp, ordering your carriage at this hour; -the days of curfew are passed, and we can keep the fire in a little -after sun-down." - -"You should stay and see what has become of your friend, Mr. -Beauchamp," said Isabella Slingsby; "I don't think that is like a true -companion-in-arms, to go away and leave him, just when you know he is -engaged in some perilous adventure." - -Beauchamp was not proof against such persuasions; but we are all -merchants in this world, trafficking for this or that, and sometimes -bartering things that are of very little value to us in reality for -others that we value more highly. Beauchamp made it a condition of his -stay, that Isabella should go on singing; and Mary Clifford engaged -her uncle in a _tête-à-tête_, while Beauchamp leaned over her cousin -at the piano. The first song was scarcely concluded, however, when the -butler again made his appearance, saying,-- - -"You were asking, Sir John, what had become of Captain Hayward, and -Stephen Gimlet has just come in to say that he had seen him about an -hour ago." - -"Well, well," said Sir John, impatiently, "what, the devil, has become -of him? what bat-fowling exhibition has he gone upon now? By Jove! -that fellow will get his head broken some of these days, and then we -shall discover whether there are any brains in it or not. Sometimes I -think there is a great deal, sometimes that there is none at all; but, -at all events, he is as kind, good-hearted a fellow as ever lived, -that's certain." - -"Stephen Gimlet says, Sir John," replied the butler, with his usual -solemnity, "that the captain went out on horseback to hunt down the -man who fired through the window." - -"Whew!" whistled Sir John Slingsby, "was it not one of those cursed -fools of game-keepers, shooting a deer?" - -"No, Sir John," answered the man, "it was some one who came in on -horseback by the upper gates. Captain Hayward got upon the cob and -hunted him across the moor, till he lodged him in one of the pits on -the other side, and was watching him there by the moonlight when -Stephen Gimlet came up; for he was afraid, if he went in one way, that -he might get out the other." - -"Well, have they got him? have they got him?" cried Sir John; "by -Jove! this is too bad, one must have his plate made bomb-proof, if -this is to go on." - -"They have not got him, please you, Sir John," replied the butler, -"for when Stephen came up, he and the captain went in, and both got -close up to the fellow, it seems, but he had time to charge his gun, -and he fired straight at them. Wolf--that is, Mr. Gimlet--says he is -sure Captain Hayward is wounded, for the man rode away as hard as he -could go before they could stop him, and the captain jumped upon the -cob and went after him again at the full gallop." - -"Where did they go? which way did they take?" exclaimed the baronet, -brustling up warmly; "by Jove! this is too bad, it must be put down! -Tell Matthews and Harrison, and two or three more, to get out horses -as fast as possible--which way did they take?--can't you answer?--have -you got no ears?" - -"Stephen said, Sir, that they seemed to go towards Buxton's inn," -replied the butler, "but he could not well see, for they got amongst -the woods." - -"By Jove I'll soon settle this matter," cried Sir John; "I'll just get -on a pair of boots and be off--Mr. Beauchamp, you must stay till I -come back, so come, be friendly, send away your carriage, and take a -bed." - -"Upon one condition, Sir John," replied Beauchamp, "that you allow me -to be the companion of your ride." - -"No, no," cried Sir John, rubbing his hands, "my dear fellow, you must -stay and protect the ladies." - -"Oh, we shall do very well, papa," cried Isabella, "only order all the -doors and windows to be shut, and I will command in camp till your -return." - -"There's a hero," cried Sir John Slingsby, "agreed! Jones, Jones, you -dog, tell the boy to take away his horses, and not to come for Mr. -Beauchamp till this time to-morrow night--nay, I insist, Beauchamp--no -refusal, no refusal--capital haunch of venison just ready for the -spit--bottle of Burgundy, and all very proper--every thing as prim as -my grandmother's maiden aunt--but come along, I'll equip you for your -ride--ha, ha, ha, capital fun, by Jove! Ned Hayward's a famous fellow -to give us such a hunt extempore; as good as a bagged fox, and a devil -a deal better than a drag." - -Thus saying, Sir John Slingsby rolled out of the room, followed by Mr. -Beauchamp, to prepare themselves for their expedition from a vast -store of very miscellaneous articles, which Sir John Slingby's -dressing-room contained. He was, Heaven knows, any thing but a miser, -and yet in that dressing-room were to be found old suits of clothes -and equipments of different kinds, which he had had at every different -period, from twenty to hard upon the verge of sixty; jack-boots, dress -pumps, hobnailed shoes, Hessians, and pen-dragons, great coats, small -coats, suits of regimentals, wrap-rascals, the complete costume of a -harlequin, which now scarcely would have held one of his thighs, and a -mask and domino. But with each of these pieces of apparel was -connected some little incident, or tale, or jest, which clung -lingering to the old gentleman's memory, associating with events -sweet, or joyous, or comic, sometimes even with sad events, but always -with something that touched one or other of the soft points in his -heart; and he never could make up his mind to part with them. From -these he would have fain furnished his guest with a wardrobe, but -unfortunately the baronet's and Mr. Beauchamp's were of very different -sizes, and he laughingly put away the pair of boots that were offered, -saying, "No, no, Sir John, my shoes will do very well; I have ridden -in every sort of foot-covering under the sun, I believe, from wooden -boots to morocco leather slipper; but I will take this large cloak -that is hanging here, in case we should have to bivouac." - -"Ha, ha, ha!" cried Sir John again; "a capital notion; I should not -mind it at all:--light a great fire on the top of the moor, turn our -toes in, and put a bundle of heath under our heads:--we have got -capital heath here. Were you ever in Scotland, Mr. Beauchamp?" - -"I was, Sir, once," answered Beauchamp, in a tone so stern and grave, -that Sir John Slingsby suddenly looked up and saw the countenance of -his guest clouded and gloomy, as if something exceedingly offensive or -painful had just been said to him. It cleared up in a moment, however, -and as soon as the baronet was ready they issued forth again and -descended into the hall. - -In the meanwhile, Isabella and her cousin had remained sitting near -the piano, both rather thoughtful in mood. For a minute or two each -was silent, busied, apparently, with separate trains of thought. At -length Mary looked up, inquiring, "What do you intend to do, -Isabella?" - -"What do you mean, Mary, love?" replied her cousin; "if you mean to -ask whether I intend to marry Ned Hayward, as I have a slight notion -papa intends I should, I say no, at once;" and she laughed gaily. - -"Oh, no," answered Miss Clifford; "my question was not half so serious -a one, Isabella; though I do not see why you should not, either. I -only wished to ask whether you intended to sit up or go to bed." - -"Why I should not," exclaimed Isabella, gaily, "I can give you twenty -good reasons in a minute. We are both so thoughtless; we should ruin -ourselves in a couple of years; we are both so merry, we should laugh -ourselves to death in a fortnight; we are both so harum-scarum, as -papa calls it, that it would not be safe for one to trust the other -out of his sight; for a thousand to one we should never meet again; he -would go to the East Indies, and I to the West seeking him; and then -each would go to meet the other, and we should pass each other by the -way." - -Mary Clifford smiled thoughtfully; and after pausing in meditation for -a moment or two, she answered, "After all, Isabella, I have some -doubts as to whether either of you is as thoughtless as you take a -pleasure in seeming." - -"Oh, you do me injustice--you do me injustice, Mary," cried Miss -Slingsby; "I seem nothing but what I am. As to Captain Hayward," she -added, with a sly smile, "you know best, Mary dear. He is your _preux -chevalier_, you know; delivered you from lions and tigers, and giants -and ravishers, and, as in duty bound, has talked to nobody but you all -day." - -Mary coloured a little, but replied straightforwardly, "Oh yes, we -have talked a good deal, enough to make me think that he is not so -thoughtless as my uncle says; and I know you are not so thoughtless as -you say you are yourself. But what do you intend to do while they are -gone?" - -"O, I shall sit up, of course," answered Isabella; "I always do, till -papa goes to bed. When he has a large party, and I hear an eruption of -the Goths and Vandals making its way hither--which I can always -discover by the creaking of the glass-door--I retreat into that little -room and fortify myself with lock and key, for I have no taste for -mankind in a state of drunkenness; and then when they have roared and -bellowed, and laughed, and quarrelled, and drank their coffee and gone -away, I come out and talk to papa for half an hour, till he is ready -to go to bed." - -"But is he always in a very talking condition himself?" asked Mary -Clifford. - -"Oh, fie! now, Mary," exclaimed her cousin; "how can you suffer your -mind to be prejudiced by people's reports. My father likes to see -every one happy, and even jovial under his roof--perhaps a little too -much--but if you mean to say he gets tipsy, it is not the case; I -never saw him the least so in all my life; in fact I don't think he -could if he would; for I have seen him drink as much wine as would -make me tipsy twenty times over, without its having any effect upon -him at all--a little gay, indeed; but he is always gay after dinner." - -Mary Clifford listened with a quiet smile, but replied not to -Isabella's discourse upon her father's sobriety, merely saying, "Well, -if you sit up, my dear cousin, I shall sit up too, to keep you -company;" but scarcely had the words passed her sweet lips, when in -came Sir John Slingsby and Mr. Beauchamp, the baronet holding a note -open in his hand. - -"Ha, ha, ha," he cried, "news of the deserter, news of the deserter, -we had just got to the hall door, horses ready, cloaks on our backs, -servants mounted, plans arranged, a gallop of five or six miles and a -bivouac on the moor before us, when up walks one of the boys from -Buxton's inn with this note from the runaway; let us see what he -says," and approaching the lamp he read by its light several -detached sentences from Ned Hayward's letter, somewhat to the -following effect: "Dear Sir John, for fear you should wonder what has -become of me--so I did, by Jove--I write this to tell you--ah, I knew -all that before--cantered him across the common--earthed him in old -sand-pit--rascal fired at me--not much harm done--chased him along -the road, but lost him at the three turnings--came on here--very -tired--comfortable quarters--particular reason for staying where I -am--over with you early in the morning--Ned Hayward." - -"Ah, very well, very well," continued Sir John, "that's all right; so -now Beauchamp, if you are for a game at piquet I am your man; if not, -some wine and water and then to bed. I'll put you under the tutelage -of my man Galveston, who knows what's required by every sort of men in -the world, from the Grand Turk down to the Methodist parson, and he -will provide you with all that is necessary." - -Mr. Beauchamp, however, declined both piquet and wine-and-water; and, -in about half-an-hour, the whole party had retired to their rooms; and -gradually Tarningham Hall sank into silence and repose. - -One of the last persons who retired to rest was Sir John Slingsby -himself; for, before he sought his own room, he visited the library, -and there, lying on the table where his letters were usually placed, -he found a note, neatly folded and sealed, and directed in a stiff, -clear, clerk-like hand. He took it up and looked at it; laid it down -again: took it up once more; held it, for at least three minutes, in -his hand, as if irresolute whether he should open it or not; and at -length tore open the seal, exclaiming, - -"No, hang me if I go to bed with such a morsel on my stomach." - -Then, putting it on the other side of the candle, and his glass to his -eye, he read the contents. They did not seem to be palateable; for the -first sentence made him exclaim, - -"Pish! I know you my buck!" - -After this he read on again; and, though he made no further -exclamation, his brow became cloudy, and his eye anxious. When he had -done, he threw it down, put his hands behind his back, and walked two -or three times up and down the room, stopping every now and then to -gaze at the Turkey carpet. - -"Hang him!" he cried at length. "By Jove! this is a pretty affair." - -And then he walked up and down again. - -"Well, devil take it!" he cried, at length, tearing the note to -pieces, and then throwing the fragments into the basket under -the table, "it will come, some how or other, I dare say. There is -always something turns up--if not, the trees must go--can't be -helped--improve the prospect--landscape gardening--ha! ha! ha!" - -And laughing heartily, he rolled off to bed. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. -The Chance-Meeting in the Park. - - -The morning sky was very gray. There was a thin film of vapour over -the greater part of the heavens, retarding, as it were, the advance of -dawn, as a mother keeps back her wayward child struggling forward too -fast upon all the varied ways of life. Yet towards the east there was -a bright streak of gold, which told that the star of light, and -warmth, and genial influences, was coming up rapidly from below the -round edge of the rolling ball. It was a line, defined and clear, -marked out from the vapour, which ended there by an edge of lighter -yellow; and as the strong golden tints became more, and more intense, -the filmy cloud split and divided into fragments of strange shapes, -while the beams streamed through, and, passing across the wide extent -of air, tinted with purple the vapours above. Towards that glowing -streak all things seemed to turn; the sunflower inclined her head -thither; the lark bent his flight in that direction; towards it all -the songsters of the wood seemed to pour the voices of their choir. It -is a strange thing, the east; full of curious associations with all -the marvellous history of man. Every good thing and almost every -bright thing, has come from the east; religion, salvation's hope; -daylight and the seeming movement of the stars and moon; summer and -sunshine and Christianity have sprung thence, as if there were the -fountain of all the best gifts to man. There have all nations risen, -and still the progress is from the East towards the West; as if there -were some law, by which all things on the earth followed the course of -the great light-giver. Nevertheless, how have these blessings been -mingled with many evils! The cutting winds of spring and winter, -pestilence and destruction, earthquakes and wars, have there arisen, -to sweep over the world, and blacken it with grief and mourning. It is -a strange place, the east; and I can never look towards it and see the -rising sun, without a strange feeling of awe and mystery, from the -various associations which exist between it and the wonders of the -past. - -The scene from the windows of Tarningham-hall was not a very extensive -one, but it was fine in its peculiar character: the sweeps of the -park; the dewy lawns; the large old trees; the broad and feathery -fern; the stately deer, walking along with unconfirmed steps and -half-awakened deliberation; the matutinal hares, scudding about in the -gray twilight; and the squirrels, rushing from tree to tree; were all -pleasant to the eye that looked upon them, though that eye could only -at one small point, where the break in the wood gave a wider view, -catch any thing beyond the domain, and all that even there was gained, -consisted of a narrow portion of that same streak of yellow light, -which broke the monotonous curtain of the cloud towards the east. - -Nevertheless, for several minutes, Mary Clifford gazed upon the whole -with pleasure and interest. She was early in her habits: a familiar -child of the morning; and the dew on the leaves was a delight to her; -the soft gray of the early day, a sort of invitation to contemplation -and enjoyment. After marking the deer, and smiling at the sportive -gambols of the hares, who, as it was forbidden to shoot near the -house, played fearless on the lawns, she turned her eyes towards the -spot where the dawning morning-light was visible, and recollecting -that not far from the house and what was called the terrace, there was -a point whence the whole scene over the country was visible, and where -she could watch, with uninterrupted pleasure, all the effects of the -breaking day upon that beautiful landscape, she sallied forth to enjoy -a peculiar sort of pleasure, which requires a very pure and unsullied -mind, and a heart naturally elevated and devout, to understand it -fully. - -The hour was a very early one; for, at that season of the year, Dan -Ph[oe]bus, as the ancient poets call him, shaking off the lazy habits -of the winter, gets up betimes; and, as the servants of good Sir John -Slingsby were not subjected to very severe discipline, not a single -soul in the house was up to give our sweet friend exit. There is -always a curious sensation in walking alone through a house, all the -other tenants of which are still sleeping; there is a deathly feeling -about it; a severing of the ties, which so lately existed between us -and those who are now insensible; but that sensation is most strongly -felt, when the morning sunshine is on the world; when nature has -revived, or is reviving from the trance of night; and other things are -busy in restless activity, though the gay companions of a few hours -gone by are silent and still, as if death had struck them. - -Down the broad oak stairs, with its narrow strip of carpet, along the -old marble hall with its tessellated floor, Mary Clifford went slowly -and quietly, lighted alone by a skylight overhead, and a large window -over the great doors; but she could hear the gay birds singing -without; the thrush upon the tree top; the woodlark in the shade; the -linnet, with its small, sweet song, and the chaffinch in his spring -dress and his spring notes amongst the bushes. She opened the door of -the library and went in, leaving it unclosed behind her, then unbarred -and unlocked the glass-door, went out and gazed about her. Some deer -that were near the house started and withdrew a few steps, and then -paused to stare at her; but whether it was that they had never seen -any of their companions slaughtered by a being in a woman's dress, or -that they thought she looked, as she really did, sweet and gentle as -the morning, they did not take fright, trotting a few steps farther, -after a long look, and then stopping with their heads to converse over -the matter. - -After closing the door, Mary walked on towards the terrace, which was -at the distance of about a couple of hundred yards, climbed the steps -and proceeded towards the end, where the finest view was to be -obtained, at a spot sheltered by six rugged yews, underneath which -there was a seat: and there she paused, for at least ten minutes, -drinking in the beauty of the scene, as if changed to a thousand hues -under the influence of the rising sun. All was still and tranquil; but -at length she heard some voices speaking, and looked in the direction -in which they came. - -Some of the grooms, she thought, as her eyes rested on the stables at -some little distance in the rear of the house; and although it was not -at all probable that they would disturb her reveries, yet she prepared -to go back, for one half of the pleasure which she derived from her -early walk lay in its solitude. She was wishing that the grooms had -thought fit to lie in bed for half an hour longer, when she heard -proceeding from the lower ground under the bank of the terrace, the -light and rapid footfalls of some one apparently walking from the -stables to the mansion; and, not at all wishing to meet anyone, she -turned back again towards the yews. At the end of the terrace, -however, the footsteps stopped; there was a momentary pause, and then -they mounted the steps and came along the gravel towards her. Mary -walked on to the end, and then turned, when straight before her -appeared Captain Hayward, coming on with his usual light and cheerful -air, though the sleeve of his coat was cut open, and it was evident -that he had bandages round his arm. - -"Good morning, good morning, Miss Clifford," he said, advancing -frankly and taking her hand; "what a magnificent morning! I see you -are as early in your habits as myself. But did you ever see such a -rich dove-colour as has come upon those clouds? I love some of these -calm gray mornings, with a promise of a bright day they give, better -far than those skies all purple and gold, such as are described by -that rhodomontade fellow, Marmontel, in his 'Incas,' which are always -sure to end in clouds and rain. I have always thought those very -bright mornings like a dashing woman of fashion, tricked out in her -best smiles and her brightest colours, promising all sorts of things -with her eyes, which she does not intend to perform, and cold or -frowning before half an hour is over." - -"And the gray morning, Captain Hayward," asked Mary, with a smile, -"what is that like?" - -"Oh, I don't know," answered Captain Hayward, laughing, "you must not -drive my imagination too hard, dear lady, lest it stumble--perhaps the -gray morning is like a calm, quiet, well brought up country girl, with -a kind heart under the tranquil look that will give a long day of -sunshine after its first coolness is passed." - -Mary Clifford cast down her eyes, and did not answer; but, as she was -walking on towards the house, Ned Hayward continued in his usual -straightforward way; "You must not go in yet, my dear Miss Clifford; I -want you to take a turn or two with me upon this delightful terrace. -You must, indeed, for I have got a thousand things to say and I know I -shall find nobody else to say them to for the next two or three -hours." - -His fair companion did not think fit to refuse, though some prudish -people might have thought it a little improper to take a walk at five -o'clock in the morning with a young captain of infantry unattached; -but Mary Clifford had only known Captain Hayward six-and-thirty hours, -and therefore she saw nothing in the least improper in it in the -world. Young ladies, who guard so very scrupulously against being made -love to, forget that they show what they expect. She turned, -therefore, with him at once, and replied, "You must, indeed, have a -long series of adventures to tell us; I am delighted to forestall the -rest of the family and to have the news myself three hours before any -one. We were all in great alarm about you last night. My uncle and Mr. -Beauchamp, and half-a-dozen servants were setting out to seek you, -upon the report of Stephen Gimlet, as they call him, the father of the -little boy you saved; but your note just arrived in time to stop -them." - -"Oh, then, Master Gimlet, I suppose, has told my story for me?" said -Ned Hayward. - -"Only very briefly," answered the young lady; "he said you had chased -some man over the common, who had fired at you, and he was afraid had -wounded you; and I fear, from what I see, he was right." - -"Oh, it was nothing, nothing at all," replied Ned Hayward; "but I'll -tell you all about it as circumstantially as a newspaper;" and he went -on in a gay and lively tone to give an account of his adventures of -the preceding night, till his arrival at Buxton's inn. Sometimes he -made Mary Clifford laugh, sometimes look grave and apprehensive, but -he always interested her deeply in his tale; and she showed that she -had marked one part particularly by asking, "Then did you know the man -when you saw his face so distinctly in the pit?" - -"Up to that moment I thought I did," replied her companion, "but then -I saw I was utterly mistaken. I will acknowledge to you, my dear Miss -Clifford, that, till he turned round I fancied he was one I had seen -before--the same height, the same make--and, under existing -circumstances, I felt that nothing would justify me in giving up the -pursuit, although it was most painful to me, I assure you, to follow, -with the purpose of punishing a young gentleman, in whom, from what -you said yesterday at dinner, I conceive you take a considerable -interest." - -"Who? Mr. Wittingham?" exclaimed Mary Clifford, her face turning as -red as scarlet, "Oh, Captain Hayward, you are mistaken, I take no -interest in him, I abhor him; or, at least---at least I dislike him -very much." - -Ned Hayward looked puzzled; and he really was so in a considerable -degree. His own prepossessions had done something to mislead him; and -a man never conceives a wrong opinion but a thousand small -circumstances are sure to arise to confirm it. A man may long for -green figs, but in any country but England he will not get them in the -month of March; he may desire grapes but he cannot find them in May; -but if he have a suspicion of any kind, he will meet with, whenever he -likes, all sorts of little traits and occurrences to strengthen it, -for the only fruit that is ripe in all seasons is corroborative -evidence; and, amongst the multitude of events that are ever in the -market of life, it must be a hard case if he do not find enough of it. -After a moment given to consideration, he replied more cautiously than -might have been expected, "I have some how mistaken you, my dear -lady," he said at length, "and such mistakes may be dangerous. I have -no right to force myself into your confidence; but really the whole of -this affair is becoming serious. When first I had the pleasure of -seeing you, I found you subjected to what was certainly a great -outrage. I call it so; for I am perfectly certain that you yourself -must have considered it as such; and there could not even be a -palliation for it except--" he paused an instant, and then added, -gravely, "except love on both sides, disappointed by objections -arising in the prejudices of others." - -Mary Clifford coloured deeply, but suffered him to proceed. "I need -not tell you, after, what I have said," he continued, "that I have -recognised and identified the principal person concerned in this -business. At dinner you expressed a very strong desire that the -offender should not be punished; but the former offence was followed -by a very serious crime. A shot was fired last night into your uncle's -dining-room amidst a party of gentlemen quietly drinking their wine, -which very nearly struck the father of the very man who had already -rendered himself amenable to the laws of his country by his attack -upon you. I had suspicions that he was the perpetrator of this crime, -and although he certainly was not the person I pursued across the -moor, yet I have some very strong reasons to think that he was a -participator in the offence. These are all very serious circumstances, -my dear young lady; but I am ignorant of those which have preceded -these events, and if without pain to yourself you could give me any -explanations which might guide my mind to the causes of all that has -occurred, it might be very serviceable in many respects. I am sure you -will answer me frankly, if it be possible, and believe me I am not one -to act harshly, or to abuse your confidence--nay, more, thoughtless as -I may seem, and as I am called, be assured I will do nought without -consideration and forethought." - -"I am sure you will not, Captain Hayward," answered Mary Clifford, -warmly, "quite sure; and I have no hesitation in giving you my -confidence--though, indeed, I have very little to tell. These things -are always unpleasant to speak about, and that is the only motive I -could have for remaining silent; but this gentleman's conduct has been -so very public, that I am saved from all scruples on his account. -About two years ago, I met Mr. Henry Wittingham at the county ball, -danced with him there, and observed nothing in his behaviour which -should make me treat him differently from other new acquaintances. I -did not think him agreeable, but he was not offensive. He asked me to -dance again the same night, and I refused, but, shortly after, he was -formally introduced at our house; my father asked him to dinner, and -was, indeed, very kind, both to him and to Mr. Wittingham, his father, -because he thought that they were unjustly looked down upon and -treated coldly by the county gentry on account of their family. I soon -began to find that--that--I really do not well know how to go on--but -that this young gentleman's visits were more frequent than was -pleasant, and that he always contrived to be near me, especially when -we met in public. His conversation, his manners, as I knew more of -him, became insupportably disagreeable; I tried as much as I could to -avoid him, to check his advances, at first quietly, but decidedly -without speaking to any one else, for I did not wish to produce any -breach between my father and Mr. Wittingham; but, at last, I found -that he made a parade and a boast of his intimacy, and then I thought -it best to speak both to mamma, and my dear father. What was done I -really do not know; but certainly something took place which very much -enraged both father and son, and the latter was forbidden to visit at -our house. The result was any thing but deliverance from his -persecution. From that moment he chose to assume, that the objection -was on the side of my parents, and I cannot tell you how I have been -annoyed. I have not ventured to walk out alone, for although once when -I met him in the village, I told him plainly my sentiments towards -him, he still persisted in the most unpleasant manner, that I spoke -alone from mamma's dictation, and for months he used to hang about the -place, till I really grew nervous at the sight of every human being -whom I did not instantly recognise. This last outrage has been worse -than all; and I will admit that it deserves punishment; but I am -afraid, from various circumstances which accompanied it, that the law, -if carried into effect, would punish it too severely. My uncle -declared he would hang the man if he could catch him; and oh, think, -Captain Hayward, what a horrible reflection that would ever be to me -through life, to think that I had been even the innocent cause of -bringing a fellow-creature to a disgraceful death." - -"Painful, indeed, I do not doubt;" answered Ned Hayward, "but yet--" - -"Nay, nay," cried Mary, "do not say _but yet_, Captain Hayward. I -could never make up my mind to give evidence against him; and, to -speak selfishly, the very fact of having to appear in a court of -justice, and of having my name in public newspapers, would render the -punishment nearly as great to me as to him. These were my sole -motives, I can assure you, in what I said yesterday, and not the -slightest personal interest in one who has, I am afraid, in all -situations disgraced himself." - -For some reason or another, Ned Hayward was glad to hear Mary Clifford -defend herself, and so warmly too, from the imputation of any feeling -of regard for Harry Wittingham; but he took care not to show, to its -full extent, all the pleasure that he felt. - -"I thought it strange, indeed," he said, "that you should entertain -any great feeling of esteem for a person who certainly seemed to me -not worthy of it; but there are often circumstances, my dear Miss -Clifford, unseen by the general eye, which endear two people to each -other, who seem the most dissimilar--youthful companionship, services -rendered, old associations--a thousand things build up this between -persons the least likely to assimilate which are stronger than all -opposing principles. I thought that such might be the case with you; -but as it is not, let me tell you what was the end of my adventure -last night; and then you will see what cause I have for suspicion. I -must inform you, in the first instance, that I marked the person of -Mr. Henry Wittingham well on the evening of the attack, -notwithstanding the twilight, and that I saw him yesterday in -Tarningham. His father's unwillingness to enter into the charge, when -made against some unknown person, excited suspicion; but I found -afterwards, from other sources, that Mr. Wittingham and his son had -quarrelled, and were completely at variance; and, in the justice-room, -the young man whispered something to the old one, of which I heard -only two or three words, but they were of a threatening nature. I have -told you that I thought I recognised the figure of the man who fired -the shot, and Stephen Gimlet declared he could swear the horse he rode -was Henry Wittingham's; but I found, as I have said, that the man in -the pit was a stranger. When, after pursuing him as long as I had any -trace, I at length arrived at a place called, I find, Buxton's Inn, I -saw the very horse in the stable in a state which left no doubt that -it had been ridden hard for several hours, and had not been in five -minutes. I inquired for the master, and was told the number of the -room where he was to be found. I walked straight in and found Mr. -Henry Wittingham sitting quietly at supper. Some conversation ensued, -in the course of which I told him the cause of my intrusion; and his -whole manner was confused and agitated. He swore violently at the idea -of any body having ridden his horse, and affected not to believe it; -but I made him come down to the stable, when, of course, his mouth was -closed." - -"But who did ride it then?" exclaimed Miss Clifford. - -"Nay, that I cannot tell," answered Ned Hayward; "but I resolved to -wait at the inn and see if I could discover anything. I was shown into -a very neat little sitting-room, and wrote a note to your uncle, Sir -John, while they were getting my coffee. It was now nearly ten -o'clock, and there was a room apparently similar to my own on each -side of me, with a door of communication with either. I suppose they -were locked so as to prevent the passage of any thing very fat or -corporeal from one room into the other, but certainly were not so -well closed as to exclude all sound. It may seem a strange thing for -me, my dear Miss Clifford, to give you an account of the sitting-rooms -of an inn; but so much depends in this world upon what is called -juxta-position, that very important events have depended upon the -keyhole of a door. You must not suppose, however, that I made use of -either of the keyholes in my room for the laudable and honourable -purpose of eavesdropping; on the contrary, I spoke loud enough to the -waiter to give sufficient notice to my neighbours, if I had any, that -voices were distinguishable from one room to the other; and it would -seem that Mr. Henry Wittingham, who was on the left-hand side, was -determined to impress me not only with the same fact, but also with a -notion that he was in a towering passion on account of the usage his -horse had met with; for he cursed and swore very severely, to which -the waiter, or whosoever he spoke to, did not reply. There seemed to -be nobody on the other side, for about half an hour, when, as I was -sitting at my coffee, after having despatched my note, I heard steps -come up from below, a door open, and the voice of the waiter say most -respectfully, 'I will tell the captain you are here, Mr. Wharton.'" - -"It is Mr. Wharton, the lawyer, then?" exclaimed Mary, with some -degree of eagerness. - -"I really cannot tell," answered Ned Hayward; "but I suspect it was, -from what passed afterwards. All was silent for about three minutes, -except when I heard a step walking up and down the room. As your uncle -had mentioned Mr. Wharton's name more than once in the course of -yesterday, I fancied he might have come upon business to some one, -which there was no necessity for my hearing; and, therefore, I rattled -the cups and saucers, moved about the chair, tumbled over a footstool, -and left them to take their own course." - -"Mr. Wharton is a very shrewd man," said Mary Clifford, "and one I -should think a hint would not be thrown away upon." - -"He did not choose to take mine, however," replied Ned Hayward; "for, -at the end of a few minutes, some one seemed to join him, saying in a -loud and familiar tone, 'Ha! how do you do, Wharton?--Very glad to see -you again! I hope you have brought me some money.'" - -"Was it Mr. Wittingham's voice?" asked Miss Clifford. - -"Oh, dear no," replied Captain Hayward; "one quite of a different -tone; a good deal of the same swaggering insolence in it, but, to my -fancy, there was more bold and dogged determination. Every now and -then there was a small pause, too, before a word was pronounced, which -one generally finds in the speech of a cunning man; but yet there was -a sort of sneering persiflage in the words, that I have more generally -met with in the empty-headed coxcombs of fashion, who have nothing to -recommend them but impertinence and a certain position in society. -However, it could not be Mr. Wittingham, for him this lawyer must have -known very well, and his reply was,--'Indeed, Captain Moreton, I have -not; but I thought it better to come over and answer your note in -person, to see what could be done for you.'" - -"Captain Moreton!" cried Mary; "I know who it is very well--not that I -ever saw him, as far as I can remember; for he quitted this part of -the country ten or twelve years ago, when I was quite a child; but I -have often heard my father say that he was a bad, reckless man, and -had become quite an adventurer, after having broken his mother's -heart, ruined his other parent, and abridged poor old Mr. Moreton's -days also. He died quite in poverty, three years ago, after having -sold his estate, or mortgaged it, or something of the kind, to this -very Mr. Wharton, the attorney." - -"Indeed!" said Ned Hayward, "that explains a great deal, my dear young -lady. Where did this property lie?" - -"Just beyond my uncle's, a little way on the other side of the moor," -replied Miss Clifford. - -Ned Hayward fell into a fit of thought, and did not reply for some -moments; at length he said, with a laugh, "Well, I do not know that -their conversation would interest you very much, though, in spite of -all I could do I heard a great part of it, and as for the rest, I must -manage the best way I can myself." - -"You are very tantalising, Captain Hayward," said his fair companion, -"and you seem to imply that I could aid in something. If I can, I -think you are bound to tell me. Confidence for confidence, you know," -and when she had done she coloured slightly, as if feeling that her -words implied more than she meant. - -"Assuredly," replied Ned Hayward; "but I only fear I might distress -you." - -"If what you say has reference to Mr. Wittingham," the young lady -answered, raising her eyes to his face with a look of ingenuous -frankness, "let me assure you, once for all, that nothing you can say -will distress me if it do not imply that I feel something more than -the coldest indifference." - -"Nay, it does not refer to him at all," replied Ned Hayward, "but to -one you love better." - -"Indeed!" exclaimed his companion, her lip trembling with eagerness, -"tell me--tell me, Captain Hayward! After what you have said, I must -beg and entreat that you would." - -"I will, then," answered Ned Hayward, gazing upon her with a look of -admiration blended with sorrow at the pain he was about to inflict. "I -believe, Miss Clifford I am about to commit an indiscretion in -mentioning this subject to you at all; for I do not know that you can -assist materially; and yet it is something to have one to consult -with--one, in whose generosity, in whose kindness, sympathy, ay, and -good sense too, I can fully trust. Besides, you know, I dare say, all -the people in the neighbourhood, and may give me some serviceable -hints." - -"But speak--speak," said Miss Clifford, pausing in their walk up and -down the terrace, as she saw that he fought round the subject which he -thought would distress her, with a timid unwillingness to do so; "what -is it you have to tell me?" - -"Why, I very much fear, my dear young lady," answered Captain Hayward, -"that your uncle is very much embarrassed--nay--why should I disguise -the matter?--absolutely ruined." - -Mary Clifford clasped her hands together, and was about to answer with -an exclamation of sorrow and surprise; but I do believe that no person -on earth was ever permitted to give an explanation uninterrupted. The -Fates are against it: at least they were so in this instance; for just -as Ned Hayward had uttered the last very serious words, they heard a -light step tripping up behind them, and both turning suddenly round, -beheld Miss Slingsby's French maid. - -"Ah, Ma'amselle," she said as soon as she reached them, "I saw you out -in this early morning without any thing on, and so have brought you a -shawl." - -"Thank you, thank you, Minette," replied Mary, and as she was well -accustomed to early walks, was about to decline the shawl; but, -judging the quickest mode of getting rid of the maid would be to take -it, she added, "Very well--give it to me," and cast it carelessly -round her shoulders. - -The maid would not be satisfied with that arrangement, however, -adjusted it herself, showed how the ladies of Paris shawled -themselves, and occupied full ten minutes, during which her poor -victim remained in all the tortures of suspense. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. -Miss Clifford is made acquainted with her uncle's embarrassments by -Captain Hayward. - - -As soon as the maid had taken herself away, Ned Hayward said in a kind -and feeling tone, "I fear I have distressed you much, Miss Clifford; -let us walk quite to the other end and talk over this matter; for I -have only been hurried into revealing this painful fact by my anxiety -to consult with some one as to the possibility, if not of remedying -the existing evil, at least of preventing it from going further." - -Mary walked on by his side in silence, with her hands clasped and -her eyes cast down with a look of deep thought; but at length she -looked up, saying in a tone of one communing with himself--"Is it -possible? what, with this fine property? But how can it be, Captain -Hayward?--here he is, with an estate of at least eight thousand a year -in his own possession, to do with it what he chooses." - -"To explain all, I had better tell you what I have heard," said her -companion. "The tale may be false; I trust part of it is so; but a -great part must be true; and the man spoke as if from authority. The -first part of their conversation was in a light tone; for a time the -lawyer seemed to avoid grappling with the subject, and asked his -companion after madam, in not the most respectful manner. The captain -replied, she was very well, and in the other room; but pressed the -lawyer to the point. He turned away again, and inquired whether -Captain Moreton had been successful at the card-table lately. He -answered, 'Tolerably; he had won a thousand pounds just before he came -from London;' but then added, 'Come, come, Wharton, no bush-fighting; -you know you owe me five hundred pounds, and I must have it.' To this -the lawyer answered: 'No, indeed, Captain Moreton, you are mistaken; I -have told you so twice: the property was sold to a client of mine; and -if I had chosen to send in my whole bill, your father would have been -greatly my debtor instead of I being yours. The sum given was -fifty-four thousand pounds; forty thousand went to pay off the -mortgage and your debts; twelve thousand your father had; and my bill, -together with that of the solicitor's of the opposite party, amounted -in fact and reality to two thousand four hundred and seventy-two -pounds. You recollect, I had not been paid for six years.' - -"The next thing I heard," continued Ned Hayward, "was a loud laugh; -and then Captain Moreton exclaimed, 'Your client! Wharton! very good, -very good, indeed; you must think me exceedingly green: I know as well -as possible who bought the property for two-thirds of its value; -employed other solicitors for a fictitious client; pocketed one-half -of their bill, and added thereto a bill of his own, which was more -than the double of what he was entitled to--come, come, Sir; don't -affect to sham a passion, for we have business to talk upon, and that -of a serious kind. You are just going to sell the property again for -the full value; and, before you do so, you shall disgorge a little.' -The lawyer attempted to bluster, but unsuccessfully; for when he asked -how Captain Moreton would stop him from selling the property, even if -all he said were true, that worthy gentleman reminded him that his -signature had been necessary to one of the papers, and then when he -asserted it had been given, informed him with a laugh, that the -signature he had obtained was that of a marker at a billiard-table; -the lawyer's clerk sent after him to Paris, having been unacquainted -with his person. Mr. Wharton attempted to show that it was of no -consequence; but the matter so far ended by his giving a check for -five hundred pounds, on Captain Moreton's signing another paper, which -I suppose was drawn up in the room, for a silence succeeded for some -minutes. A part of what took place then was not distinct; and I -certainly made no effort to hear it." - -"But my uncle," said Miss Clifford, "how does this affect my uncle?" - -"He came upon the carpet next," replied Ned Hayward; "Captain Moreton -asked who was going to buy the property; and when the lawyer made a -mystery of it, saying that he really did not know the true parties, -but that Doctor Miles had meddled in the business, the other named Sir -John as the probable purchaser. There at Mr. Wharton laughed heartily, -and said, 'I'll tell you what, Captain, Sir John Slingsby is at this -moment next thing to a beggar.'" - -Mary put her hands before her eyes and turned very pale. - -"Forgive me, my dear Miss Clifford," continued Ned Hayward, "for -repeating such unpleasant words; but it is better you should hear all. -I will hasten, however: Captain Moreton affected not to believe the -tale; and then the lawyer went on to mention the facts. He stated that -your uncle's property was mortgaged to the utmost extent, that the -interest of two half years would be due in four or five days; that -notice of fore-closure had been given, and the time would expire -before six weeks are over, that there are considerable personal debts, -and that Sir John had written to him this very day to get a further -advance of ten thousand pounds, which are absolutely necessary to -stave off utter ruin even for a short time. Now I happen to know that -Sir John did actually write to this man; and as Mr. Wharton could have -no object in deceiving the person he was speaking to, I fear the tale -is too true." - -"Good heavens! what is to be done?" exclaimed Mary Clifford; "Oh, -Captain Hayward, how terrible it is to know this, and not to be able -to assist!" - -Captain Hayward paused a single instant and then replied with a look -of deep feeling and interest, "Perhaps I ought not to have told you -this, Miss Clifford," he said; "but I am a very thoughtless person, I -am afraid, and yet I did not do this without thought, either; you know -that I have a deep regard for your uncle, he was a very kind friend to -me in days gone by, but having observed him well and with that -accuracy which, strange as it may seem to say, is only to be found in -extreme youth; I know that it is perfectly in vain to talk with him on -the subject of his embarrassments, unless at the very moments when -they are the most pressing and severe. To talk with him then may be -too late. He is one of those--and there are many of them--who, with a -hopeful disposition, many resources in their own minds, and a happy -faculty of banishing unpleasant thoughts, go on from one difficulty to -another, finding means through a great part of life of putting off the -evil day, and who, thinking the chapter of accidents inexhaustible, -come suddenly to a full stop in the end, with all their resources -exhausted and no possible means of disentangling themselves from their -embarrassments. It has been his constant axiom for twenty years, to my -certain knowledge, that something would turn up, and when such is the -case, it is perfectly in vain to attempt to consult with a person so -circumstanced as to the means of extricating him from difficulties, of -which he always expects to be delivered by a lucky chance. Having -found Fortune his best friend, he goes on trusting to her, till the -fickle dame deserts him, and then looks around in bewilderment for -assistance which cannot arrive." - -"Too true a picture, too true a picture," replied Miss Clifford, in a -sorrowful tone; "I have seen it myself, Captain Hayward, and have been -grieved to see it." - -"Well, do not let us grieve, but act, my dear lady," said Ned Hayward; -"let us consult together, and see what can be done, good Sir John must -be saved at any cost." - -"But what can I do, Captain Hayward?" she inquired. "Perhaps you do -not know that the whole of my fortune is tied up by my father's will -so strictly, that I can dispose of nothing till I have reached -one-and-twenty years of age; and though I would willingly, most -willingly, sacrifice any thing to relieve my uncle, I am as powerless -in this business as a child." - -"This is unfortunate, indeed," said Ned Hayward, in reply, "very -unfortunate, I had hoped that you had command of your own property, or -that you might be able to point out one, who would be able and willing -to take this mortgage and relieve your uncle." - -"I know of no one, no one on the earth," she answered; "my mother's is -but a jointure; I am not of age for nine or ten months, and before -that time it will be all over." - -"The security is perfectly good," continued Ned Hayward in a musing -tone, as if he had not heard her, "and I feel very sure that the -property is worth a great deal more than this man has advanced, -or any of his clients, as he calls them. Otherwise it would not have -been done. We should easily find some one, I think, to take the -mortgage, if we could but pay this cursed interest and stop the -fore-closure--perhaps at a less per centage, too--that man is a rogue, -I am sure, and we may very likely cut down a great many of the -charges; for I feel very certain he has been purposely entangling good -Sir John, till at length, when he thinks there is no possibility of -escape, he pounces upon him to devour him." - -"But what is to be done? what is to be done?" reiterated Miss -Clifford. - -"Well, it does not matter," said Captain Hayward, in the same -thoughtful tone; "I'll tell you what we must do: I have a sum sixteen -thousand pounds in the funds. Ten thousand, it seems, will be wanted -for the most pressing matters--we will call it twelve thousand; for no -man in your uncle's position reckons very closely what is needed, and -his calculation is always below instead of above the mark. I will go -up to town and sell out; that will put off matters for six weeks or -two months; and, in the meantime, we must set all our wits to work for -the purpose of finding some one who will take the mortgage at -reasonable terms, and of putting your uncle's affairs altogether into -order." - -"Oh! how can I thank you, Captain Hayward?" said Mary Clifford, -putting her hand upon his arm; "indeed, indeed, I am very grateful." - -"Without the slightest occasion," replied Ned Hayward. "I wish to -Heaven I had the means of taking the mortgage myself; but the fact is, -my poor father--as good a man as ever lived--was too kind and too easy -a one. He put me very early into what is called a crack-regiment, -which in plain English means, I suppose, a regiment likely soon to be -broken, or, at all events, likely to break those that enter it. I had -my expensive habits, like the rest, and never fancied that I should -not find five or six thousand a-year, when I returned from Gibraltar -at my father's death. Instead of that, I found the unentailed property -totally gone; the entailed property was mine, as I was the last of my -race; but there were debts to the amount of forty thousand pounds; but -if I did not pay them, who would? The men would have had to go without -their money; so I sold the property, paid the debts, put the little -that remained, between fifteen and sixteen thousand pounds, in the -funds, and have lived within my income ever since. Thus, you see, I -have not the means of taking the mortgage." - -Mary Clifford cast down her eyes, and was silent for a minute or two; -for there were very strong emotions at her heart--sincere respect and -admiration; more powerful, far, than they would have been had she -conceived a high opinion Ned Hayward's character at first, or if he -had made a parade of his feelings and his actions. He treated it also -lightly, however, so much as a matter of course, both what he had done -and what he was about to do, that many an ordinarily minded person -would have taken it on his own showing, and thought it a matter of -course too. But Mary Clifford was not an ordinarily minded person, and -she felt deeply. - -"But what will you do yourself, Captain Hayward?" she said, at length; -"my uncle will be long before he is able to repay you, and the want of -this sum may be a serious inconvenience to you, I fear." - -"Oh! dear, no," replied Ned Hayward, with the easiest air in the -world, "I shall have four thousand pounds left, which will enable me -to get upon full pay again, and, though this is a sad peaceful time we -are in, may have some opportunity afforded me. I had held this sum, -which I put by, quite sacred, and would never touch a farthing of it, -though I was very much tempted once or twice to buy a fine horse or a -fine picture; but cut off as I am, my dear Miss Clifford, by my want -of fortune, from forming those ties which are the comfort and -happiness of latter years to most men, I may as well go and serve my -country as well as I can to the best of my power, as linger out my -days in hunting, and shooting, and fishing, reading poetry, and -looking at pictures. Sir John will pay me when he can, I know; for he -will look upon it as a debt of honour; and, if he never can, why, it -can't be helped; at all events, I do not wrong my heirs, for I have -got none;" and he laughed right cheerfully. - -Mary Clifford looked in his face with a smile; it was a sort of -philosophy so new to her, so good, so generous, so self-devoted, and -yet so cheerful, that she felt strongly infected by it. She had been -bred up amongst people and by people equally good, equally generous in -all great things; but somewhat rigid in smaller ones; severe, if not -stern; grave, if not harsh; and they had committed the sorrowful -mistake of thinking, and of trying to teach her to think, that true -piety is not cheerful. Her father had been the person from whose -breast this spring of chilling waters had been welled forth; and -Mary's mother, though originally of a gay and happy disposition, had -been very much altered by the petrifying influence of the stream. The -contrast, too, in Mrs. Clifford's case, between her brother and her -husband; the one of whom she might love, but could not respect; the -other whom she loved and respected, nay, somewhat feared, tended to -clench her mistake, which the dean had striven to implant; and to make -her believe that cheerfulness and folly, if not vice, were companions -rarely separate. Mary Clifford saw the mistake now, though her own -heart had told her long before that an error existed somewhere. But -she felt, at the same time, that she also had a part to play towards -one who sacrificed so much for the nearest relation she had except her -mother; and with a beaming smile upon her lips, she said: - -"Captain Hayward, I shall never forget your conduct this day; but, at -the same time, you must not run any risk, or be any loser. If I had -any power over my own fortune, I would do what you are now kind enough -to do; but, at all events, I give you my word, that, the moment I am -of age, I will repay you." - -"Oh, I dare say Sir John will do that," answered Ned Hayward, "but, at -all events, my dear young lady, pray say nothing to him on this -subject till the last moment. We must let the matter press him very -hard before he will hear reason; then, when he sees no means of escape -whatever, he will consent that others shall find one for him. You had -better talk to his daughter, but enjoin her to secrecy. If I have an -opportunity, I will sound Beauchamp; I have a notion that he is rich; -I feel very sure he is liberal and kind, and may take the mortgage -if he finds it a reasonable security. That it is so, I am quite -certain--nay, more, I am convinced, that if Sir John would let me -manage all his affairs for him for one year, I would remove all his -difficulties, and leave him a better income, in reality, than he has -had for a long while. But now I must run away and leave you, for I see -the people are getting up about the place, and I have two important -pieces of business to do before noon." - -"Indeed," said Mary, struck by something peculiar and indefinable in -his manner; "I hope nothing unpleasant?" - -"I will tell you what they are," said Ned Hayward, in a gay tone; "and -then you shall judge for yourself. I have, first, to catch the largest -trout in the river; I made a bet last night with your uncle that I -would do so, and I always keep my engagements; and then I have to make -ready for London to sell out this money." - -"But need you go yourself?" said Miss Clifford, with a look of -interest; "can you not send?" - -"True, I can," said Ned Hayward, "I never thought of that--but yet I -had better go myself.--Good bye, good bye!" and he turned away; then -pausing for a moment, something which he struggled against, got the -better of him, and, coming back, he took Mary Clifford's hand in his, -and pressed it gently, saying, "Farewell! There are some people, Miss -Clifford, whose society is so pleasant, that it may become dangerous -to one, who must not hope to enjoy it long or often." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. -Ned Hayward's missive to the younger Wittingham. - - -"What hour does the coach start at for London?" - -"Half-past four, Sir." - -"Arrives in town at twelve to-morrow, I think?" - -"No, Sir; last time I went up, we got there by eleven." - -"Then down again at half-past four?" - -"Yes, Sir--gets to the White Hart at half-past eleven--longer coming -down than going up." - -"That will do very well." And Ned Hayward, who had held the above -conversation with one of Sir John Slingsby's servants, hurried -upstairs. His room was all in the most exact order. His fishing -tackle, two fowling-pieces in their cases, shot-pouches, game-bags, -powder-flasks, &c., were in array on the top of the drawers. His -clothes were all in their separate places, his boots arranged under -the dressing-glass, his writing-desk upon the table, flanked on either -side by half-a-dozen volumes. Every thing could be found in a moment, -so that if called upon suddenly to march, the baggage would require no -time to pack. It was to the writing-desk he first went however; he -opened it, unscrewed the top of the inkstand, took out a sheet of -notepaper and a memorandum-book, and then sat down deliberately in -the chair. The memorandum-book was first called into service, and in -the column of accounts he put down what he had paid at the inn that -morning, and then, on another page, wrote down the following list, -which I will not attempt to explain, - - "Catch trout. - "Write to H. W. - "See Ste Gim. - "Make inquiries. - "Provide for boy. - "Pack car. bag. - "Coach to London. - "Sell out 12,000_l_. - "Alter will. - "Pistols. - "Friend--qy. Beauchamp. - "Talk to him of No. 2 and No. 8." - -When this was done, he put the memorandum-book in the pocket of a -frock-coat, sat down again, drew the sheet of notepaper towards him, -and on it wrote as follows, with a bold, free, rapid hand. - -"Captain Hayward presents his compliments to Mr. Henry Wittingham, and -begs to inform him that since he had the honour of seeing him last -night, some business has occurred which compels him to go to London -for a short time. He goes by the coach this day at half-past four, -returns by the coach which leaves London at the same hour to-morrow, -and expects to arrive at the White Hart by half-past eleven or twelve. -If by that time Mr. Wittingham has found some gentleman of honour to -use as his friend, Captain Hayward will have much pleasure in seeing -that gentleman at the White Hart any time between the arrival of the -coach and one o'clock. If not, he will be found for about a fortnight -at Tarningham-park." - -The note was then addressed and sealed, and as soon as that was done, -without a moment's pause, Ned Hayward threw off the dress-coat in -which he was still habited, put on a sporting costume, looked through -his book of flies, and taking fishing-rod and basket in one hand, and -the note in the other, descended the stairs. - -The house was now in the bustle of morning preparation; housemaids -were sweeping, men-servants were taking away lamps and candlesticks, -and to one of the latter the note was delivered, with a half-crown, -and directions to send some lad immediately to Buxton's inn. That -being done, Ned Hayward strolled out into the park, taking his way -towards the stream, where we will join him by-and-by. - -We must now return to Mary Clifford, however, who stood where Ned -Hayward had left her in deep thought for several minutes. Had she been -the least of an actress, she would not have done so, for she might -have fancied that it would betray to her companion, as he walked away, -what was passing in her mind; but Mary was not the least of an -actress. Graceful by nature, ladylike and polished by heart and -education, it had never been necessary for her to picture to her own -imagination what others would think of any of her movements or words. -She was unaccustomed to do so. She never did it. She did not feel -herself upon a stage; she was never acting a part. How few there are -of whom we can say the same! But there she stood, silent, grave, and -thoughtful, with Hayward's words still ringing in her ear, his manner -still before her eyes; and both had been somewhat marked and peculiar. -But three minutes were all that she would give to such thoughts. They -came upon her in confused crowds, so numerous, so busy, so tumultuous, -that they frightened her; and, not being very brave by nature, she ran -away from them, to take refuge with the calmer but sterner meditations -regarding her uncle's situation. What was to be done, and how it was -to be done, were very puzzling questions, which she asked herself over -and over again, without receiving any satisfactory reply from her own -mind. Under the pressure of difficulties and dangers, whether -affecting ourselves, or those near and dear to us, there comes upon us -a necessity for action, a _cacoethes agenda_, which we can scarcely -restrain. We cannot sit down quietly and wait for time and -circumstances to present favourable opportunities, as we should do, -when the affairs in our hands were but matters of indifference to -ourselves; calm, business-like transactions, in which we have no -personal feeling. The heart comes in at every turn, and perplexes all -the fine plans of the head; and we must be up and doing, whether the -moment be favourable, or not. Mary Clifford felt all this, and was, in -some degree, aware of the unreasonableness of precipitancy. She -thought it might be better to wait and see, and yet anxiety, -eagerness, affection, urged her to do something, or something, at -least, for her uncle, as soon as possible. She could not rest under -the load; she felt as if activity would be almost a crime; and thought -she could see no light whichever way she turned, yet she resolved to -attempt something, not feeling very sure, whether she should do injury -or not. - -Such was the course of her meditations, for nearly half an hour, after -Ned Hayward left her; and yet it must be confessed that, though these -meditations were upon painful subjects, they were not altogether -painful. Did you ever listen attentively, dear reader, to one of those -fine and masterly pieces of Beethoven's writings, where the great -composer seems to take a delight in puzzling and perplexing the hearer -drowning him, as it were, under a flood of harmony, where discords are -as frequently introduced as any thing else? But still, through them -all runs a strain of melody, which links them all together. - -Such was very much the case of Mary Clifford. For, although the -general train of her thoughts was sombre, and there was much cause for -sadness in all she had heard, there was something very sweet--she -herself knew not what--that mingled with the old current of -reflection, and harmonised it beautifully. It was something -hopeful--expectant--trustful--a belief that by the agency of some one -all would go right.--Was it love? Was it the first dawn of that which, -to the young mind, is like the dawn of the morning, that softens and -beautifies every thing? I cannot tell; but, at all events, it was so -far undeveloped, that, like the strain of melody which pours through -the whole of a fine composition, giving a tone of richness and -sweetness to every part, it was undistinguishable from the rest, felt -and known to be there as a thing separate and alone, and yet -inseparable. - -Whenever she tried to distinguish it, fear seized upon her, and she -flew away again. Why was she happy, when all that she had heard was -the most likely to render her otherwise? She did not know, she would -not know; but still she gave way to the feeling, although she would -not give way to the thought; and while she shrunk from clothing her -own sensations in distinctness, longed to render them distinct, that -she might enjoy them more fully. - -"I will go and seek Isabella," she said, at length, "she must know of -this; and then we can all consult together, perhaps, if one can but -teach her light gay heart to be prudent and discreet--and yet," she -continued, thoughtfully, "she has, perhaps, more worldly wisdom than -myself, more knowledge of life and all life's things. Those who are -accustomed to commune much with their own thoughts, gain, I am afraid, -a conceit in their own opinion, which makes them undervalue those -which are formed upon a practical knowledge of the world. Isabella is -full of resources, and, perhaps, may devise many means that would -never strike me." - -These thoughts passed through her mind as she was approaching the -house, and very soon after she stood in her cousin's dressing-room, -finding her, even at that early hour, up and partly dressed. - -"Why, dearest Mary," exclaimed Isabella, "where have you got all those -roses? The morning air must be very good for the health, as every one -says, to change your cheek, which was yesterday as pale as twilight, -into the very aspect of the dawn." - -"I have been out walking on the terrace, more than an hour," replied -Mary, "and I was pale yesterday, I suppose, from the fright of the -night before. I have had a companion, too, Isabella," she continued -gaily, though her voice trembled a little; "Captain Hayward came up -and joined me, and told me all his adventures of the night before." - -"Indeed!" exclaimed Miss Slingsby, "his adventures must be very wild -and singular, I suppose; for his is just the spirit to seek them and -to make the most of them when he has got them. But what has happened -since, Mary?--We had all the details, you know, up to the period at -which, like Don Quixote, he arrived at an inn." - -"I do not think there is anything in the least like Don Quixote about -him, Isabella," replied Mary Clifford, gravely; "if he seeks -adventures, it is for the advantage of others." - -"So did Don Quixote," replied her cousin, giving her a sly smile; "but -what did he say, dear cousin?" - -"Oh, there was a great deal besides what you heard last night," -replied Miss Clifford, "you only had the sketch, the picture is still -to be filled up, and he had better do it for himself. However, I have -other things to talk to you about, Isabella, of more importance;" and -she glanced at the maid that was arranging her mistress's hair. - -"I shall be ready in a minute," answered Miss Slingsby; "make haste, -Minette, I think you have been longer than usual this morning." - -The maid, however, had a thousand reasons to give for being longer, -all perfectly valid in her own estimation; and, whether out of spite, -or in the hope that the two young ladies would grow tired of waiting -and say plainly all they had to say, I cannot tell, but she contrived -to occupy a full quarter of an hour more in dressing her mistress's -hair. Those who calculate upon the difficulty of carrying a secret are -rarely mistaken; but in this case Mademoiselle Minette did not arrive -at her end. Mary said nothing more; and, at length, the girl was -dismissed, and the two cousins were left alone together. - -"In the name of fortune!" exclaimed Miss Slingsby, as soon as the maid -was gone; "what solemn thing have you got to tell? Has he proposed -already? On my word, it is a very speedy declaration!" - -Mary coloured like a rose, but answered gravely, "Dear Isabella, how -can you be so light? If you speak of Captain Hayward, our conversation -has been upon very different subjects, and was a very serious one. I -am afraid I shall have to distress you, Isabella, as much or more, -than his information distressed me." - -"I hope not," replied Isabella. "I did not know at all that he was a -distressing person. I always thought him a very pleasant fellow, and -imagined you thought so too, dear cousin; but how has he contrived to -distress you?" - -"Why, by some news of no very pleasant character," answered Mary -Clifford, "he overheard, accidentally it seems, some conversation -relating to your father, from which he learned some particulars, that -grieve me greatly to hear." - -"Indeed!" cried Miss Slingsby, with a start; "they are not going to -shoot at him, I hope?" - -"Oh, dear no," replied Mary, "nothing of that kind; but about his -affairs generally." - -"Well, speak out boldly, Mary, dear," answered her cousin, "I see you -are going round the matter, love, for fear of vexing me; tell it at -once, whatever it may be. You know I have a bold heart, not easily put -down; and, though you judge me light and thoughtless, I know, believe -me, Mary, it is more a necessity of my situation than any thing else. -If I were to think by the hour together over all the things that are -unpleasant to me, as you or my dear aunt would do, I should only kill -myself without altering them. Papa has his own ways, which were formed -before I was born; and, coming so late in the day, I don't think I -have any right to meddle with them. I get out of the way of all that -is disagreeable to me as much as I can; and, when I can't, like a good -dutiful daughter, I submit. You know that he is, to use our good old -gardener's expression, 'as kind as the flowers in May;' and I should -be very ungrateful if I teazed him by constantly opposing habits which -I cannot change, and which are my elder brothers and sisters. My -philosophy may be a bad one, but pray leave it to me, Mary, for I -could not be happy with any other." - -Mary Clifford took her cousin's hand and pressed it kindly in her own; -"I would not take it from you for the world," she said, "for I know -and understand all you feel, and am quite well aware that you are -performing the first of duties in endeavouring to make your father's -house as happy for him as you can, while you don't suffer your own -mind and manners to be tainted by customs you do not approve. You have -had a hard part to play, dear cousin, and you have played it well; but -it is not upon these subjects I come to speak to you, but upon one, -which though perhaps of less vital importance, unfortunately affects -the happiness of this life more. Your father's means and fortune, -which I am sorry to say, from all I hear, are very much embarrassed." - -"Good heavens! what do you mean?" exclaimed Isabella, gazing anxiously -in her face, and Mary went on as delicately as she could to tell her -all that Ned Hayward had communicated. At first, the poor girl seemed -overwhelmed, exclaiming, "A week before they call for such a large -sum! six weeks before the whole is finally gone from us! Good heavens, -Mary, what is to be done?" - -In a moment, however, she rallied: "Well," she exclaimed, "I have been -very blind--as blind as a great politician, Mary. A thousand things -should have prepared me for this that I now recollect, letters, and -messages and intimations of various kinds. That sleek knave, Wharton, -is at the bottom of it all; but he shall not crush me; and I dare say -we shall do very well with what is left. I have jewels and trinkets of -my own, and poor mamma's, to keep house for a longtime; and there must -be something left out of the wreck." - -"But the thing is, if possible, to prevent the ship from being wrecked -at all," answered Mary Clifford; and she then went on to tell all that -Captain Hayward proposed to do, in order to prevent any immediate -catastrophe, not trusting her voice to comment upon his conduct for a -moment. - -But Isabella did it for her, "O, dear, kind, generous fellow," she -cried, "how I love him! Don't you, Mary? Although papa may have many -bad and foolish friends, you see there are some noble and wise -ones--but I'll tell you what, Mary, we'll go down and talk to him -after breakfast, and we'll all consult and see what is to be done; -we'll have a plot to serve papa, whether he will or not; and I declare -Mr. Beauchamp shall be one of the conspirators." - -"Just what I should propose," answered Mary Clifford; "for, although -you have known Mr. Beauchamp but a very short time--" - -"A good deal longer than you have known Ned Hayward," answered Miss -Slingsby, with a smile. - -"Nay, nay, pray do be serious, Isabella," answered her cousin; "I was -going to say, though we have known Mr. Beauchamp but a very short -time, I do believe from various traits I have seen, I do think he is -an amiable and kind-hearted man, though perhaps somewhat cold and -stately." - -"Oh, he may be warm enough, for aught we know," replied Miss Slingsby, -"but there is the breakfast bell; papa will be down and want his -coffee." - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. -The Struggle near the River. - - -Nobody could perceive at the breakfast-table that Sir John Slingsby -had suffered from the strong emotions by which we have seen him -influenced on the preceding night. No one could have conceived that -his state and fortune were in the tottering condition which Ned -Hayward had represented. He was as gay, as happy, as full of jest and -merriment as a schoolboy of seventeen. And as his sister was -peculiarly cheerful, it seemed to excite in him even a more merry and -jocund liveliness. To say the truth, Mrs. Clifford felt that her bond -was broken; that her visit to her brother's house, and her stay with -him, had unlinked one of the chains of cold and formal proprieties -which had been wound round her for so many years. Heaven knows, she -never wished to see, hear, or do, think, or countenance anything that -was evil; but yet her heart felt freer and lighter--it had more room -to expand. In fact the sunshine of early days seemed to be reflected -upon it, and it opened out to the light like a flower. She was gayer -than her daughter, though silent and still, except when called into -conversation by some lively sally; but she smiled, was good-humoured, -and answered even merrily, when a jest passed round, and seemed to -wonder at the more than wonted gravity of her Mary. Isabella was -almost too gay; as gay as the habits of the world and her own sense of -propriety permitted; but, to an observing eye this cheerfulness was -rather assumed than real; and to any one who, like Mary, had the -secret of her heart, it was very evidently affected to cover a deeper -and a graver current beneath. - -"Well, what's the news this morning?" said Sir John, as Isabella -poured out the tea and coffee; "a quarter to nine and no tidings -stirring? This seems to promise a dull day. Nobody's mill been burnt -down? Nobody's cat killed? Nobody's wife eloped? Nobody's daughter -gone to Gretna-green? Nobody's house been broken open, game stolen, -hen-roosts been plundered, pocket been picked, or nose been -pulled?--Faith we shall never get through the four-and-twenty hours -without something to enliven us. All the objects of country life -are gone. It seems to me that the world has turned as dead as a -horse-pond, and men and women nothing but the weed at the top, waiting -coolly in green indifference for the ducks to come and gobble them up. -Lack-a-day! lack-a-day! if we had but Ned Hayward here to cheer us up! -What can have become of him?" - -"Oh, he has come back, my dear uncle," replied Mary; "I saw him upon -the terrace as I was taking my morning's walk." - -"Then why is he not here?" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, "why is he -absent from his post? What business has he at Tarningham-park, unless -it be like a ray of the summer sunshine to make every thing gay around -him?" - -"He told me that he was going down to catch a trout," replied Miss -Clifford; "he has some bet with you, my dear uncle, it seems?" - -"The boy is mad! irretrievably gone! Bedlam or Saint Luke's, or some -of those places they call a _private asylum_, is the only place for -him now," exclaimed Sir John Slingsby; "what, gone down to catch a -trout, without pausing to take either rest or breakfast, with his -hands burnt and a shot in his arm--so that fellow Gimlet said, they -tell me." - -"He seemed very well," answered Miss Clifford; "and he said he had his -breakfast before he left the inn." - -"I don't believe a word of it," answered her uncle; "that's just one -of his old tricks, Mary; if there was any thing to be done, he used -never to mind breakfast, or dinner, or supper, or any thing else; the -matter was always done first, and then he did not mind a good dinner -and a bottle of claret, or even two, as the case might be. I never saw -such a fellow! We used to call him 'thoughtless Ned Hayward;' but the -fact is, he used to think more in five minutes than the rest of us -altogether in four-and-twenty hours, and then he was free for the -whole day--but here come the letters, and papers; we shall have some -news now, and we shall have something to laugh at, with, or because -of." - -Thus saying, Sir John took the bag which was brought to him by the -butler, opened it with a key attached to his watch-chain, and drew -forth the articles it contained one by one. First came a newspaper in -its cover--it was, I suppose, the Times, by its bulk--then another and -another. All these were laid down beside him; and next came the small -packet of letters, and then, oh! how eager all were to devour the -contents. Strange and mysterious mixture of old rags and size, what a -world of emotions have you conveyed about this earth! Not the most -terrible stage that has ever represented to the eyes of admiring -thousands the works of the poet, or displayed the skill of the actor, -has produced such deep tragedy as you. How often has the sight of the -thin folded sheet, with its strange, crooked black hieroglyphics, -overwhelmed the lightest and the gayest heart with heaviness and -mourning! how often changed the smile into the tear! how often swept -away the gay pageants of imagination, and memory, and hope, and left -the past all darkness, and the future all despair! But, on the -contrary, how often have ye been the unexpected messengers of -happiness and joy! how often have ye brought sunshine and light into -the benighted breast! how often dispelled in a moment the dark -thunder-clouds of the world's blackest storms,--aye, and sometimes, -too, have closed as with a lightning-flash, the black tempestuous day -of a long sorrowful life, with a gleam of ecstasy, too intense and -potent to survive! - -All eyes turned eagerly to Sir John Slingsby, while he looked over the -letters. The first was in a stiff and clerk-like hand, which he put -down beside him with a low chuckle, which probably indicated an -intention of not reading it at all. The next displayed a scrawl, -written as if with a butcher's skewer, thin, straggling, and -irregular, like the scratching of a hen in the last agony. That met -the fate of the former one. Then came an address in a good, bold, -dashing hand, with a name written in the corner. - -"Ah, ah!" cried he, "from Tom South, about the borough of -Twistandskin. Before I stand, I'll see him--Lord bless me, what -was I going to say?" and putting his hand to his mouth, he looked to -his sister with a low laugh; but that letter was put at a little -distance from the two others. "Ah! Mr. Beauchamp, here is one for -you," continued the baronet, "sent up with the postmaster's -compliments!--damn his compliments! who wants his compliments?" and he -gave the letter over to Beauchamp, who was sitting at the opposite -side of the table next his daughter. "My dear Harriet, do try that -pasty, it is excellent; or take something, in the name of -Heliogabalus; this is not a fast-day, is it? There's the best ham that -ever came out of Yorkshire, on the side-board. There, Isabella, -there's an epistle for you, from one of your sweet, maudlin, blond and -satin friends in London, as soft and insipid as a glass of orgeate, -I'll answer for it; full of loves, and dears, and sweet friends, and -languishing for your darling society, and wondering what you can be -doing in the country, spending your beauty on the desert air. Don't -let me hear a word of it; I hate them all; and, if I had my will, -would smother them all to death under eiderdown quilts. Pray read your -letter, Mr. Beauchamp. Every body in this world is anxious to read -their letters but me; and as yours may very likely require an answer, -you had better look at it at once; for one post here goes out at -eleven." - -Now, Sir John Slingsby, in the latter part of his speech, showed -himself considerate; for Mr. Beauchamp, during the first part of -breakfast, had borne a very grave and business-like air. He had given -himself up, it is true, to a more cheerful spirit on the day before; -he had been calmly cheerful at dinner; gay in the evening; especially -when he was near Miss Slingsby. But who is not gay in the evening -hours, when the whole nervous fluid seems to have accumulated about -the brain and the heart, when the anticipated, or actual labours of -the day are over, the apportioned task of care and anxiety are done? -The load of the four-and-twenty hours is thrown off, and we snatch at -the brief portion that remains between labour and repose for -enjoyment. Who is not gay, when beauty and cheerfulness pour their -mingled rays upon us, flooding our feelings and our thoughts with a -bright, happy, and congenial stream? Take a glass of iced-water, dear -reader--as cold as you will, so that it be not actually frozen--and -pour into it a merry glass of warm champagne; see how it will sparkle -and dance up to the brim; and, unless the heart of man is a mass of -ice indeed, such will be the effect upon it of mere association with -youth, beauty, and innocent gaiety. - -But since then, Beauchamp had slept upon the matter. The night before -he had gone on with the current; and now time had been afforded him to -ask himself how far that current had carried him. He was doubtful -whether he had not been borne too far; there were doubts, hesitations, -apprehensions in his mind; and he was grave--very grave indeed. He had -wished Miss Slingsby good-morning, he had expressed a hope she had -rested well, he had been most gracefully courteous--too courteous; for -very polished surfaces are generally cold; and Isabella, who had come -down with the intention of speaking to him frankly and freely upon -matters that interested her deeply, had shrunk into herself more than -was her wont. - -Beauchamp opened the letter, however, with rather a languid and -unexpectant air, but the first words seemed to rivet his attention. -The eye of Isabella, without her will, or rather against it, fixed -upon him. She saw his cheek turn pale, then glow again warmly, and -then a glad and well-satisfied smile curled his lip. He ended the -letter, and, looking towards the ceiling, his lips moved for an -instant, and, folding up the paper, he put it in his pocket, giving -way for a few seconds to thought, which did not seem unsatisfactory. - -Isabella Slingsby was the most straightforward girl in the world, by -nature; and she had but one class of experimental teaching in regard -to concealing her feelings. She could hide, occasionally, how much she -disliked some of her father's guests; she could conceal from him how -painful to her was much that she saw under his own roof. In every -thing else, however, she was as frank as the day; and, seeing Mr. -Beauchamp receive a letter, and look not discontented with it, she -said, somewhat inconsiderately: - -"You seem to have had pleasant intelligence, Mr. Beauchamp?" - -That gentleman turned his eyes suddenly upon her, and very fine and -lustrous eyes they were, and he gazed at her for an instant with a -smile so blended with many emotions, that Isabella, she knew not why, -cast down her eyes, and coloured. After a brief pause, he replied: - -"Not unpleasant, Miss Slingsby; for so strange a thing is the heart of -man, or, rather I should say, so strange a thing is his fate, that, in -the course of years and with the change of circumstances, there will -be pleasure even in the total ending of what were once bright hopes. -The things we coveted and obtained, in the world's variation become -burdensome to us; as, at the end of a long day's journey, we lay down -with relief the weight which, at the outset, we carried with joy or -pride." - -"That is because men are so fickle, I suppose," answered Isabella. -"The only constant beings on earth are women and Newfoundland dogs, -Mr. Beauchamp--it is so, I assure you, whatever you may think of it. I -know the wicked world takes a different view of the subject; but the -world is man's; and women might very well say a different picture -would be produced, 'if we lions were painters!'" - -"Nay," answered Beauchamp, laughing, "I am not one of those evil -speakers and slanderers. I have had time to observe in the world where -I have been these many years as a mere spectator, watching the -characters of men and women; and I can justly say, that there are, at -least, ten good women for one good man. Circumstances may have -something to do with it; education, opportunity for good or evil; but -still there must be a fine and pure spirit at the heart, teaching to -avoid evil and to seek good." - -"I believe, in truth, there is," answered Mrs. Clifford, joining in -the conversation; "and that the bent of almost every woman's mind is -towards that which is right. But if you are the creatures of -circumstances, Mr. Beauchamp, we are, in many, respects, the creatures -of your hands; you give the bent and the direction of somewhat more -than half our thoughts, I am afraid, and are--" - -"To be blamed, if you go wrong," exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, with a -loud laugh; "to be sure, to be sure; that is a woman's philosophy, my -dear Harriet; all that she does good is her own, all that she does -wrong is man's; but let me tell you, my dear sister, that there is no -little doubt, in the minds of the best informed, which has the most -influence; man over woman, or woman over man. I am of the last -opinion; and I see it every day in my case and that of others; here -this girl, Isabella, rules me with a rod of iron--does any thing she -likes with me; but, by my faith, for this day I shall abstract myself -from her authority; for I have some business to settle during the -morning; and she must entertain her guests as she can. Mr. Beauchamp, -if you leave my house during the next four-and-twenty hours, it will -be a clear proof that Miss Slingsby does not entertain you properly; -and I shall be very angry with her inhospitality, if I do not find you -at lunch and dinner, tea and supper, and breakfast to-morrow morning; -for I shall be quite sure she has not made my house agreeable." - -"An imputation that I should be the last to bring upon Miss Slingsby," -said Mr. Beauchamp; and in truth he seemed to feel what he said; for -when they rose from the breakfast-table, and the party sauntered to -the window, in that pleasant indolence which generally succeeds the -first meal of the day--that five minutes that succeeds to breakfast, -in short, before we put on the armour of active exertion--he attached -himself closely to Miss Slingsby's side, engaged her in conversation -so light and cheerful, that the whole character of the man seemed -changed. Not that what he said was without thought; for there was a -deep undercurrent of reflection running all the time, which gave it -quite a different tone from what is called small-talk. It was -sparkling, brilliant, even playful; but its principal effect on the -minds of those who heard was to set them thinking. There was a marked -attention in his manner towards Isabella Slingsby, which flattered her -a little. She might have perceived before that he was struck with her -beauty, that he admired her, that he liked her society, when he had -twice or thrice met her at Dr. Miles's. She had thought him -exceedingly agreeable, and had fancied that he thought her so too; but -there had been nothing said or done--not one word, one look, one -gesture, that could set imagination flying any further; and she had -rested satisfied with letting things take their course, without any -other feeling than a slight degree of regret that her father had not -made the acquaintance of one so superior in manners and in mind to the -generality of those around. During the preceding evening, Beauchamp -had appeared in no other character than that of the calm, dignified, -quiet, and well-informed gentleman. But after breakfast his attentions -were more pointed; and Isabella felt a little agitated, and doubtful -of what all this would come to. She was not fond of any thing that -agitated her: and therefore, somewhat more abruptly than was -necessary, she broke through the conversation that was going on -saying: - -"Mr. Beauchamp, Mary and I have entered into a compact to go down and -see Captain Hayward win his bet." - -"What bet?" asked Beauchamp, who had forgotten all about it. - -"To catch the largest trout in the river before twelve o'clock," -replied Isabella; "will you escort us? My dear aunt, won't you come -too?" - -"No, my dear," answered Mrs. Clifford; "I have letters to write, too, -like your father." - -"I have no letters to write," exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, somewhat -petulantly; "I wish I had nothing less pleasant to do; but I have to -see the steward and a damned lawyer about business--the greatest bores -on earth. I wish to Heaven Peter the Great had been but autocrat of -England for a bare month. Heaven and earth! how he would have thinned -the roll of attorneys!--or if we could but bring them under the -cutting and maiming act, what hanging and transporting we should have. -I am sure they cut up our time and our comforts, maim our property, -and cripple our resources. But the devil never abandons his own; and -so they slip out of every noose that is made to catch them. There's -that fellow, Stephen Gimlet, can make, they say, springes that will -catch woodcocks and snipes, hares, pheasants, partridges, ruffs, and -rees; hang me, if I don't ask him if he has not got any trap that will -strangle an attorney." - -"If he fails, ask Ned Hayward," said Isabella, half jokingly, half -earnestly; "I have no doubt he would furnish you with what you want." - -"Perhaps he would, perhaps he would," answered Sir John; "not a bad -thought, Bella; but hang it, I must go and see the steward before that -fellow Wharton comes. So good bye, good bye, for the present. Mind the -luncheon time; and if Ned loses and does not bring me home a trout of -at least three pounds, we'll drink his health in a bottle of the old -hermitage--get your shawls and bonnets, get your shawls and bonnets; -and now, Harriet, if you want to send over to your place, be quick -with your letters, for I have got a man going to Tarningham at -twelve." - -Mrs. Clifford left the room with her brother, and was followed -immediately by her daughter and niece. Beauchamp walked out into the -hall, and got his hat, gave some directions to one of the servants in -regard to sending up some of his clothes from the inn at Tarningham, -when any body was sent down to the town; and then returned to the -window of the breakfast-room. There he paused and looked out, -revolving various things in his mind, and coming to the half-muttered -conclusion, at length: "It must be so, it is quite clear--it is -certain." But when any one determines that a thing is quite clear, is -certain, before we agree with him in opinion, we should know what -other trains of thought are going on in his mind at the moment, -jostling this idea and that out of their right places, leaving others -far behind, and stimulating others again to run at lightning speed, -the Lord knows whither, to win their race. It is not at all -impossible, that if you or I, dear reader, could see into Mr. -Beauchamp's mind at this moment, we might come to a very different -conclusion on the premises, and think that the proposition was any -thing but, _quite_ clear, the result not at all _certain_. - -However that might be, there he stood with his hat in his hand, in -very good spirits, when Miss Slingsby and her cousin appeared. - -Isabella was rather fluttered, as we have said, about something or -another; she felt a timidity that was not usual with her, and she got -her cousin between herself and Mr. Beauchamp before they reached the -door, as if she intended that he should offer Mary Clifford his arm. -Beauchamp man[oe]uvred so skilfully, however, that before they were -through the door and down the steps, he was by Isabella's side again, -and, as she had two sides, one of which was certain to be unprotected, -while that side was almost certain to be the point of attack to a -dexterous enemy, she gave up the battle at once, and let things take -their course. - -The walk, as Isabella managed it, was an exceedingly pleasant one. In -the first place, there were the beauties of nature. To what heart, -under what circumstances, do the beauties of nature fail to bring -sweet feelings? There is something in the universe, of which we have -no definite conception; perhaps, it is too universal, too wide, too -vast, to submit itself to any thing like demonstration. We all feel -it, we all know it, we all enjoy it. The ancients and some of the -moderns have deified it and called it Pan. It is, in fact, the -universal adaptation of one thing to another: the harmony of all God's -works; the infinite music of an infinite variety. It is figured in -music--faintly figured; for music is only the image of the whole by a -part; the sequence of bright things is the melody of creation; their -synchronous existence, the harmony of God's Almighty will. But in -this, as in all else, woe be unto those who have worshipped the -creature of the Creator, and who have mistaken this grand harmony in -the infinity of created things, for the Godhead itself. It is but one -of the expressions of Almighty love, and those expressions are as -infinite as the love from which they emanate. It is our finite, our -contracted, our exceedingly minute view of all things, that constantly -keeps us down from the contemplation and the conception of the -immeasurable to that which is within the ken of our own microscopic -vision. If creation itself is infinite, the infinite harmony thereof -is but a part of creation, and is in itself a proof of that -intelligent Providence, which man denies, because he does not see. - -The walk was an exceedingly pleasant one, coming in varied scenes upon -the mind, each contrasted with the other, yet each harmonising -beautifully. After about a hundred and fifty or two hundred yards of -short turf they entered a glade, where tall trees, backed by deep -shrubs, cut off the sunbeams, except where here and there they -struggled through an open spot. Tall beeches, more than a century old, -crossed their arms above to give shade to the ground below, and though -the walk, nearly fifty feet in breadth from bole to bole of the old -trees, was mown along its whole extent, yet a little to one side and -the other the wild flowers appeared gemming the earth like stars upon -a firmament of green. There was the purple columbine and the blue -periwinkle, and the yellow primrose, and the pale bending anemone; the -hyacinth and the violet; and if art had had any share therein, the -arrangement of the flowers was so skilfully managed, that all seemed -owing but to nature's hand. The deep branches of the beech, and the -green shade that they cast through the air, gave a solemn and -elevating tone to the whole. The flowers and the occasional bursts of -sunshine, the rich colours of the moss, yellow and brown, and green, -enlivened the scene, and made the solemn stillness of the long avenue -seem like a thoughtful countenance brightened by a smile. Then -suddenly, when they had walked on for about a quarter of a mile, they -turned to the left through a wide break in the alley, and all was -wonderfully changed. Shade and melancholy was gone; and they stood -upon the edge of a round sloping descent of some three or four hundred -feet covered with green short turf, and marked out, at short -distances, by chumps of birches and hawthorns. On the right was the -woody crest of the hill, concealing in its bosom the continuation of -the avenue, which they had just quitted; but on the left, wide over -the tree tops and waving ground beyond, stretched out an extensive -prospect in the sunshine, all light and loveliness. It was one of the -bright days of early summer. Scarcely a cloud was in the sky, and yet -there was a softening effect in the atmosphere, which mellowed the -lights and shades into each other, and suffered the sight to pass -softly and gently from each line of the distance to that which -succeeded with a sort of dreamy pleasure, vague and indefinite, but -very sweet, like the sounds that sometimes come upon our sleeping ears -in the visions of the morning. - -Skirting along the hill with a gradual descent, the broad gravel-walk -plunged into the valley, and there all was altered once more. A wide -and uncultivated wood swept round, a small sparkling rivulet dashing -on towards the broader stream amidst bushes and shrubs and water -plants; a willow here and there bending down its long pliant branches -over the glittering stream, and a patch of tall bulrushes raising -their long green stems, where any occasional interruption occasioned -the water to spread out. The trees were far apart, though the ground -was broken and uneven, and the flapping wing of a heron, with his gray -shadowy form rising up at some fifty or sixty yards' distance, added -to the saddening and sombering effect. It was like a discord in a fine -piece of music: just protracted long enough to make what had gone -before and what followed after more delightful, and the next minute -they issued forth upon the warm green meadows, gilded with buttercups, -that lay by the side of the wider river. - -Heaven only knows what Isabella meant in bringing Beauchamp by that -path, if she did not intend him to make love to her. She could have -taken him round by the other side of the house, and the straight -horse-road to the bridge, or down over the turf through the open parts -of the park, amongst the deer and fern to the farther end of the -river, where it issued out of the grounds. But no, whether from -something that was going on in her own bosom, which made her -instinctively choose the scenes that most assimilated with her -feelings, or from accident, caprice, or design, she led him through a -path, full of the sense of love. There was one too many for a -declaration, it is true; and she knew she was so far guarded; but yet -it was a very dangerous walk for any two people, whose hearts had no -better security than the simple presence of another, to stray along -upon such a day as that. - -The letter, which Beauchamp had received at breakfast, had evidently -either pleased, or entertained, or relieved him; but the effect was, -that he was infinitely gayer when he set out than he had ever been -since we have first met with him. He crossed the open ground by -Isabella's side with a firmer and more elastic step, with his head -high and his shoulders back, he gazed over the wide-spread park -scenery around, and seemed to snuff the air like a horse about to -start upon a race. He commented upon the loveliness of such views, -remarked how very English they were--how very seldom one ever saw any -thing similar in any other land--and seemed to enjoy the whole so -highly, as to leave an impression that the pleasure of the walk was -heightened by the society in which it was taken. When he came under -the shade of the tall trees his tone was somewhat changed, it became -softer, more serious, more earnest; and so he went on, his thoughts -seeming to receive a colouring from the scenery through which he -passed, without losing their general character, or particular train at -the moment. It was evident through all that he was thinking of -Isabella Slingsby; and though, with finished courtesy, he divided his -conversation very equally--not quite--between her and her cousin, yet -even when he was speaking to Mary Clifford, it was very evident that -his words, or at all events, his thoughts, were addressed to Isabella. - -Mary said little, except just to keep up the conversation and deprive -it of any thing like awkwardness; but she felt, and indeed nobody -could help feeling, that Mr. Beauchamp's manner towards her cousin was -too marked and particular to be mistaken. Isabella, on her part, gave -way to all the gaiety of her heart, sometimes with bright and laughing -sallies playing round Beauchamp's more earnest and deep-toned -thoughts, sometimes yielding to the impulse which she imparted, and -venturing into the deep waters of feeling and reflection, whither he -led her, till startled at herself she took fright and retreated. She -was very happy, too; secure in Mary's presence from any thing that -might agitate or alarm, she felt that she could give way to the -pleasure of the moment; and even the knowledge of her father's -situation and of the dangers and difficulties that beset him acted but -as a softening and subduing power, which brought down her spirits from -their habitual gaiety, and rendered her heart more susceptible of -tenderer and deeper impressions. - -Beauchamp felt that he was listened to, that he pleased, that he might -be beloved. He had seen nothing coquettish about Isabella; he had -heard a high character of her; he had been told by one, who had known -her from childhood, that she seemed lighter than she really was; that -if there was any thing assumed, it was the gaiety; that all the more -profound things, that occasionally appeared in her character, might be -trusted and relied upon; and that the seemingly high spirits were but -as the breeze, that ruffles the tree tops without touching the depth -of the forest. He felt sure, therefore, that she would not sport with -him, if she believed he was in earnest, and he took care, that upon -that subject she should have little doubt. - -Thus passed away their walk; and though Mary Clifford would have given -a great deal, had she dared to venture, to make Mr. Beauchamp a sharer -in the secret of Sir John Slingsby's affairs, and asked the advice and -assistance of one who had evidently gained much experience of the -world, without being spoiled by the world, yet she knew not how to -begin; a feeling of timidity came over her that stopped her; and the -course of the conversation--its sparkling rapidity at some times, its -deep and intense feelings at others--gave no opportunity of -introducing a subject entirely discordant, without forcing it in a -manner both harsh and discourteous. She determined, therefore, as they -approached the river, to leave the matter to Captain Hayward, whose -frank straightforwardness, she thought, would soon either find or make -an opportunity. - -When they reached the bank, however, Captain Hayward was not to be -seen; but Isabella pointed to an elbow of the wood, which concealed a -turn in the stream, saying that he was most likely higher up, and -accordingly they walked on. As they were passing through the little -path that cut through an angle of the woodland, they heard suddenly a -loud exclamation, then a very ungentlemanly oath, and the next moment, -as they issued forth, they saw Ned Hayward grappling with a tall, -powerful man, in what may be called a semi-military dress. The two -were, apparently, well matched, though few, either in strength, -activity, or skill, could match our friend. But the stranger, whoever -he was, practised a trick, which he thought likely to free himself -from his adversary, even at the risk of his own life. He struggled -hard, and in the struggle drew towards the brink. Ned Hayward made a -violent effort to resist the impulse, and most likely would have been -successful; for, if any thing, he was the stronger man of the two. But -a part of the green turf gave way, undermined by the course of the -current, and both plunged in together into a deep pool, and -disappeared for an instant in the water. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - -A map is a very useful thing: I wonder what people did without it -before it was invented. Yet there were great travellers in those days, -too, both by land and water. Adam began the first, and Noah the -second, and they managed very well without either chart or compass, so -that it is evident those instruments are nothing but luxuries, and -ought to be done away with. Nevertheless, I feel that I should be much -better off, and so would the reader too, if I could give here, on this -page, a map of the county of ----, just to show him the relative -position of the place called Buxton's Inn and the little village of -Coldington-cum-Snowblast, which lay nearly north-west of Buxton's Inn, -and at the distance, by the road, of about six miles. The innkeepers -charge seven miles' posting, because it was the seventeenth part of a -furlong beyond the six miles. However, a dreary little village it was, -situated on one of the two roads to London, which was indeed somewhat -shorter than the other, but so hilly, so tiresome, so bleak, and so -stiff, as the post-boys termed it, that man and beast alike preferred -the other road, and generally went to and from Tarningham by Buxton's -Inn. Nevertheless, it was absolutely necessary that a pair or two of -posters should be kept at Coldington, as that was the only direct road -to several considerable towns; and though it was only an eight-mile -stage, yet the cattle, when they had got over the hills, had no -inclination to go further. The post-horses had engendered a -public-house, which was designated by courtesy an inn, but it was a -very solitary one, with very few visitors but those who took a glass -of beer or spirits at the bar, and a chance mercantile traveller, who -came to supply the two shops that ornamented the village, and slept -there for the night. - -At a very early hour of the morning, however, on the day of which we -have just been speaking, a post-chaise drew up to the door with horses -from Buxton's Inn, and a fresh relay was immediately ordered to carry -the travellers on towards Bristol. A tall, powerful, showily-dressed -man got out with a lady closely veiled, whose costume spoke of -Parisian manufacture; and while the portmanteaux and other articles of -baggage were being taken into the doorway till they could be placed -upon the new chaise, the gentleman paid the post-boy, and then asked -if he was going back directly. - -"In about an hour, Sir," replied the man, touching his hat, with the -look of one well satisfied with his fee. - -But at this reply the traveller looked blank, and said, "Well, it does -not matter. I must get some lad to run over across the moor with this -note to Mr. Wittingham. Just see for some one, my good fellow. He -shall have half-a-crown for his pains." - -But the post-boy was not such a goose as to let the half-crown slip by -him, and, with the most respectful air in the world, he assured the -gentleman that he was quite ready to go that minute, and that he had -only proposed to stay an hour because he did not know--how should -he?--that the other wanted to send back. - -The note and the half-crown were immediately given, the post-boy got -into his saddle again, resisted the soft entreaties of the ostler to -take a glass of something, and trotted away. No sooner was he gone, -however, in the full persuasion that ere a quarter of an hour was over -his two travellers would be on their way to Bristol, than the -gentleman he left behind seemed to have suddenly changed his mind. The -horses were countermanded, a room upstairs looked at, some breakfast -ordered, and there he and his fair companion seemed disposed to pass -the day. After a short but hearty breakfast, which was crowned by a -glass of brandy, upon the strength of such an early drive, the -gentleman himself sallied forth, saying to the lady, "I must see that -fellow Stephen, and find out if he has peached. If he has, we had -better get over the water for a while, at all events; though they can -prove nothing, I am sure." - -"You will take your rash, wild ways, love," answered the lady, in a -languid tone; "and then you are sure to get into a scrape." But the -gentleman did not wait for the end of the admonition, leaving the room -and shutting the door behind him. - -We will stay with the lady, however, and a very pretty woman she was, -though, indeed, there had been a time when she was prettier. She was -certainly not less than three or four-and-thirty, with good, small -features, and a complexion which had once been exceedingly fine. It -had become somewhat coarse now, however, and looked as if the process -of deterioration had been assisted by a good deal of wine, or some -other stimulant perhaps still more potent. Her eyes were fine dark -eyes, but they had grown somewhat watery, and there was an occasional -vacancy in them, a wandering uncertainty that bespoke either some -intense preoccupation with other subjects than those immediately in -question, or some failure of the intellect, either from temporary or -permanent causes. Her figure was tall and fine, and her dress very -handsome in materials and make; but yet there was a something about it -too smart. There was too much lace and ribbon, too many bright and -gaudy colours, too much flutter and contrast, to be perfectly -ladylike. There was also a negligence in the way of putting it -on--almost a slovenliness, if one may go that length, which made -things nearly new look old and dirty. - -Her air and manner, too, were careless and languid; and as she set -herself down on one chair, then moved to another, and rested her feet -upon a third, it seemed as if something was continually weighing upon -her mind, which yet wanted vigour and solidity enough to make an -effort to cast it off. - -It was not that she seemed to mope at being left alone by her male -companion, or that she felt or cared for his absence very much, -although she evidently deemed his plans and purposes imprudent and -perilous. Far from it: she was as gay, or perhaps gayer, when he was -gone than before; sang a little bit of an Italian song, took a small -note-book out of her bag and wrote in it some lines, which seemed, by -their regular length, to be verses; and then, getting up again, she -opened a portmanteau, brought out a book, and began to read. She had -not continued long, however, when she seemed to become tired of that -also, and putting back the book again, gave herself up to thought, -during the course of which her face was chequered with slight smiles -and slight frowns, neither of which had the most pleasant expression -in the world. There was a littleness in it all, indeed, a sort of -careless indolence, which perhaps bespoke a disposition hackneyed and -spoiled by the pleasures, if not the pains of life. And there she sat, -casting away from her everything but thought, as if there were nothing -in the world valuable or important, except the little accidents, that -might disturb or promote her own individual comfort. The maid who -carried away the breakfast things informed the landlady that "the -woman upstairs was a taking on it easy, a sitting with her feet on one -of the best chears." And although the good dame did not think fit to -object to this proceeding, she mentally commented on it thus: "Them -quality-folks is always giving themselves airs; but if she spiles my -new kivers, I'll take it out in the bill, anyhow." - -After this state of things had continued for somewhat more than an -hour and a half, the gentleman came back, apparently in great haste, -dripping like a Newfoundland dog, and, calling to the ostler before he -ran upstairs, directed him to put-to the horses as soon as possible. -Then, running up, he entered the room where he had left the lady, -exclaiming, "Quick, Charlotte, we must be off like the devil!" - -"Why, what's the matter, Moreton?" she said, without moving an inch. -"You are all dripping wet; you have met with some adventure." - -"And something else, too," answered the gentleman. "I have met with -that devil of a fellow again, and he recognised me and tried to stop -me, but I pulled him into the river, and left him there, getting to -the other bank Heaven knows how. All I am sure of is, that I kept his -head under water for two or three minutes; for he fell undermost. But -I have not time to talk more now, for we must go as if Satan drove us, -and I will tell you more as we go along." - -"I hope he's drowned," said the lady, with the sweetest possible -smile; "it is an easy death, they say. I think I shall drown myself -one day or other." - -"Pooh!" said the gentleman. "But come along, come along! I have -something to tell you of Charles; so make haste." - -"Of Charles!" exclaimed the lady, starting up as if suddenly roused -from a sort of stupor, while a look of intense and fiery malignity -came into her face. "What of him? Have you seen him? Did he see you?" - -"I don't know," answered her companion. "But come along;" and taking -up one of the portmanteaus as the chaise drove up to the door, he -hurried down, and sent up for the other. The lady followed with a -quick step, drawing her veil over her face; for she now seemed to be -all life and eagerness; and while the gentleman was paying the bill, -she got into the chaise and beat the bottom of the vehicle with her -small foot, as if impatient for his coming. - -Before he could reach the door, after having paid the bill, however, a -man on horseback galloped quickly up, and, springing to the ground, -caught the gentleman by the arm, exclaiming, "Why, hang it, Moreton, -you have played me a scurvy trick, to go off and leave me before it -was daylight." - -"I could not help it, my dear Wittingham," replied the other: "I was -obliged to be off; there is a d--d cousin of mine down here whom I -would not have see me for the world. You must not stop me now, by -Jove; for they have found out where I am, and I expect him to pay his -respects very soon." - -"Devil take it! that's unfortunate," cried Wittingham, "I wanted you -to go and call out that meddling scoundrel, Hayward, whom I told you -of. He bolted into my room last night, and he told me he had -horsewhipped me once, and would horsewhip me again whenever he met me, -if I could not get some gentleman of honour to arrange a meeting with -him." - -"Upon my life, I can't stay," cried the other, "though I should like -to see you shoot him, too, if he is alive, which I have some doubts -of--but stay," he continued, after a moment's thought, "I will find a -man for you, and I will send him down without loss of time--Major -Woolstapler; he has been lately in foreign service, but that's all the -same, and he's a capital hand at these things; and, if you follow his -advice, you will shoot your man to a certainty--he shall be down -before three days are over; I am off for Bristol, and so up the Cath -road to London. We shall get there to-night; and he will be down -to-morrow or the next day early. He'll hear of you at Buxton's, I -suppose. Good-by, good-by." And he jumped into the chaise. - -A moment after, as soon as the door was shut, he seemed to recollect -something, and putting his head out of the window he beckoned up young -Wittingham, saying, in a low voice, "You'll need the bull-dogs, so -I'll send you down mine. Tell Woolstapler to contrive that you have -number one. It will do his business, if tolerably well handled--and I -say, Wittingham, don't mention to any one that you have seen me either -here or at Oxford. My cousin fancies I am in India still." Then -turning to the postillion, he said, "Go on and brush along fast. -Sixpence a mile for good going." - -Never was such an intimation given to a postillion without the horses -suffering for it. I actually once made a Bavarian go seven miles and a -half an hour between Ulm and Augsburg by the same process. I record it -as amongst the memorable events of my life, proudly satisfied that no -man upon earth ever did the same, either before or since. On the -present occasion, the postillion, without fear, struck his spurs into -the horse's side, laid the whip over the back of the other with that -peculiar kind of gentle application which intimated that if the -brown-coated gentleman did not get on as hard as his four legs would -carry him, the instrument of propulsion would fall more heavily the -next time; and away they went, at a pace which was a canter up hill, a -trot down, and a gallop over the flat. Captain Moreton leaned back in -the chaise and murmured, "We've cut them, by Jove!" - -"But what is to be the end of all this?" asked the lady, who seemed to -be now thoroughly roused: "if that man is to go on for ever having his -own way I do not see any thing that is to be gained. We cannot keep -this up much longer, Moreton; and so you thought two days ago. I shall -be compelled to come forward and claim the arrears of the annuity by -actual want of money. You told me, when we were at the inn there, that -you had but ten pounds left, and now you seem to take a different view -of the subject. You men are certainly the most vacillating creatures -in the world." - -"Nay," answered Moreton, bowing his head with an air of persiflage, -"ladies, it must be owned, are superior to us in that, as in -everything else. Two or three months ago you seemed enchanted with -your plan, and declared, though it had not answered yet, it would -answer in the end. I only thought it would not answer for want of -means, otherwise I was as well disposed towards it as you could be. -Now, on the contrary, you are eager to abandon it, while I wish to -pursue it, for this simple reason: that I have got the means of -carrying it on for some time at least, and see the greatest -probability of success. You must recollect, my dear Charlotte, that -this is not a matter where a few hundreds or a few thousand pounds are -at stake, but many thousands a-year." - -As usually happens--for nobody ever hears or attends to more, at the -utmost, than the twentieth part of what is said to them, the lady's -mind fixed upon one particular sentence, without listening to anything -more, and she repeated, as if contemplating and doubting, "You have -got the means! You have the means!" - -"Ay, indeed, I have," answered Captain Moreton, with a smile; "I have -got the means; for, while you were thinking I was doing nothing, I was -shrewdly laying out my own plans, by which I have contrived to screw -full five hundred pounds out of that terrible miser, Wharton. Was not -that somewhat like a _coup?_ With that we can live for some five or -six months in Paris--economically, you know, my love--we must not have -champagne and oysters every day; but we can do well enough; and before -the time is out, the very event we wished to bring about will have -happened; otherwise my name is not Moreton. I can see very well how -matters are going. He is caught: for the first time in his life really -and truly captivated; and, if we but take care to play our game well, -he will be married and completely in our power within a few weeks. I -know he will never be able to stand that; and there will but be one -choice before him, either to buy you off at the highest possible -price, or--" - -"Buy me!" cried the lady; "if he had the diamond mines of Golconda, he -could not buy me! If he could coin every drop of blood in his heart -into a gold piece, I would see him mind them all to the very last, and -then refuse them all with scorn and contempt. No, no, I will bring him -to public shame and trial; I will make him a spectacle, have him -condemned as a malefactor, break his proud spirit and his hard heart, -and then leave him to his misery, as he has left me. For this I have -toiled and longed; for this I have saved and scraped, like the veriest -miser that ever worshipped Mammon in his lowest shape; for this I -saved every sixpence, and lived in self-inflicted poverty and neglect, -till I met you, Moreton, in order to hoard enough to keep me, till -this revenge could be accomplished; and often, very often since, I -have been tempted to curse you for having, by the extravagance you -taught and practised, squandered away the very means of obtaining all -that I have longed and pined for." - -"You speak in a very meek and Christian spirit," cried Captain -Moreton, with a laugh; "but, nevertheless, I will not quarrel with it, -Charlotte; for your revenge would serve my purposes too. If we could -but get him to commit himself beyond recall, I am his next heir, you -know, my dear; and, therefore, the sooner he goes to heaven or Botany -Bay, the better for me--don't you think that we could contrive to get -up a very well authenticated report of your death in some of the -newspapers, with confirmations of all kinds, so as to leave no doubts -in his mind?" - -"Moreton, upon my life I believe you are a fool," cried the lady, -bitterly; "would he not plead that as his excuse?--no, no, if I could -so manage it, and, Heaven or the devil send me wit, I care not which, -to do it, I would contrive to make him fancy my death certain by small -indications, such as none but himself could apply, and which, to the -minds of others would seem but frivolous pretexts if brought forward -in his own justification. If you can help me to such a plan, I will -thank you; if not, we must trust to fortune." - -"Good faith! I see no means to accomplish that," cried Moreton. - -"Now then, let us talk no more about it," answered the lady; and -sinking back into the chaise, she relapsed into that state of seeming -apathy, from which nothing but passion had the power to rouse her. - -"By the way," said Captain Moreton, after about a quarter of an hour's -consideration, while the chaise rolled rapidly along, "all those -things that you had in Paris, clocks and chimney ornaments, and such -like things, what has become of them?" - -"Oh, they are of little value, Moreton," said the lady; "a thousand -franks would buy them all; the worth would not last you ten minutes at -roulette." - -"No," answered Captain Moreton, taking no notice whatever of the -bitterness with which she spoke; "but I was thinking that they might -be more serviceable at hazard." - -"What do you mean?" she asked, abruptly, fixing her eyes upon him. - -"I want to know where they are," answered Captain Moreton, in a cool -tone. - -"Why you know very well," she answered, sharply, "when I left Paris -two years ago with you, I told the girl, Jeanette, to take care of -them till I came back. I dare say she has pawned or sold them long -ago." - -"That is the very thing," cried Moreton, rubbing his hands. "We will -away to Paris with all speed; you will keep quite close; I will find -out Mamselle Jeanette, and give her intimation that she may sell the -things to pay her own arrears of wages; for that her poor dear lady -will never come back to claim them." - -"I see the plan," replied the lady, "but I fear it will not answer, -Moreton; I had been living, as you know, in seclusion for a year -before, and the very means that I took to make him think me dead, will -now frustrate your scheme for that purpose." - -"I don't know that, Charlotte," answered her companion. "He has been -making inquiries in Paris, I know; you were traced thither distinctly, -and whether all clue was there lost of your proceedings, neither I nor -you can tell. But I'll tell you a story. When I was living at my -father's place, he had a particularly fine breed of pheasants, which -regularly every year disappeared about the 8th or 9th of October, -without the possibility of proving that any one had been into the -copses. One day, however, when I was out early in the morning, I saw a -fine old cock, with his green and gold neck, walking along straight -through a field towards the ground of a neighbouring farmer. Every two -or three seconds down went the pheasant's head, and on he walked -again. I watched him for a few minutes over a hedge, then made my way -through, put up the bird, and examined the spot where he had been. -There I found a regular pheasant's footpath, and nicely strewed along -it a line of barleycorns, leading straight on to the farmer's ground, -in the first hedge of which I found another portly bird fast by the -neck in a springe. Now, my dear Charlotte, we'll strew some -barleycorns, and perhaps we may catch your bird in the springe; I -mean, we'll throw out such pieces of information as will lead to the -certainty that you were in the Rue St. Jaques two years ago; we will -get Jeanette to sell things to pay her own wages, with the best reason -to believe you are dead; and if what I have heard is true, all that -you have so long aimed at will be accomplished before two months are -over." - -"I see, I see," answered the lady, and the chaise stopped to change -horses. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - -The quiet little town of Tarningham was more quiet than ever about the -hour of twelve each day; for, according to good old primeval habits, -noon was the period for feeding. Men ate, beasts ate, and birds ate, -and we all know that eating is a silent process. It is the greatest -mistake in the world for doctors to tell you to talk while you are -eating, or else it is the bitterest sarcasm. They must either mean -that your digestion should be spoiled, or else that you are in the -habit of talking without thinking. But we, will make a sort of -corollary of it. "Man should not think when he is eating, man should -not talk without thinking; _ergo_, man should not talk at his dinner." -Therefore the people of Tarningham were wise; for never was there such -a silent town at the hour of twelve o'clock, when they were eating. -Doctor Miles could hear his own footfall with the most perfect -distinctness, as he walked along the High-street; and a good broad -foot it was, with a square-toed shoe and a buckle in it. - -But Doctor Miles did not attend to the sound of his footfall; he was, -indeed, busily thinking of something else, with his eyes bent -down--but not his head--he rarely bent his head--holding it upright -and straight, and a little stiff, by the natural effect of mind on -body. His meditations were very deep, so much so, that it required an -extraordinary apparition to rouse him from his reverie. The sight, -however, of a human being in the streets of Tarningham a little after -twelve, was quite enough to produce that effect; and at the distance -of about two hundred yards from the door of the White Hart, he was -startled by beholding the diminutive form and somewhat contorted -person, of the poor little pot-boy, Billy Lamb, coming towards him -with an empty jug in his hand. Nobody attended to Billy's meals. He -got them how he could, where he could, and when he could. When all the -rest were eating, he was sent with a jug of beer here, or a pint of -gin there, and came back to feed upon the cold remnants of what the -rest had eaten warm, if, indeed, they left him anything; but yet the -fat landlord, ostlers, stable-boys, and barmaids, all thought that -Billy was very well off. The landlord thought so, because he declared -he had taken the boy in from charity; and the ostlers, and the -post-boys, and the barmaids believed it. O, charity! charity! thou -perverted and misused term. Since the first words that were uttered by -Adam in his garden, down to the moment when one of the world's great -men declared that language was intended to conceal men's thoughts, no -word in the whole dictionary has ever been applied to cover so -many sins as thou hast. Thou art the robe of vanity every day; -tricking it out in subscription lists, almshouses, hospitals; thou -art the cloak of pride and haughtiness, the pretext of every petty -tyrant who seeks a slave, the excuse of avarice, and greed, and -narrow-mindedness--ever, ever coupled with a lie! In what human heart -art thou ever found pure and unadulterated? The foul-mouthed slanderer -of a neighbour's fame, who gives a sixpence to a beggar or a pound to -an infirmary, is a charitable person. The scoffing sneerer at virtue -he cannot imitate, who flings away money profusely for the sole -gratification of a loose habit, is called charitable. The hard-hearted -man who denies others their rights, or he who cheats his followers of -their due reward, or he who grinds the faces of his workmen with -excessive toil, or he who is harsh and stern in his own household, -fierce and censorious to others, a despot with his wife, a tyrant with -his children, dies, and, in a pompous will, bequeaths a portion of his -ill-gotten wealth to build an asylum, and perpetuate his name, and is -praised and honoured as a charitable man. - -That boy, forced to labour day and night, without consideration, -without comfort, without a kind word, fed upon refuse, palleted on -straw, yet doing more than the whole household altogether, was taken -in from charity! Believe it, reader, if you can. For my part, I don't -believe a word of it. I am quite sure that worthy Mr. Groomber wanted -somebody particularly, of an active and willing disposition, to carry -out the beer, and to attend to all those little matters which Mr. -Groomber could not do himself, and which his servants did not choose -to do, and that in taking in Billy Lamb for his own convenience, he -persuaded himself, and tried to persuade the public too, that he was -doing an act of charity. It is an extraordinary thing to consider how -often in the great tragic farce of the world we are our own -spectators; or, in other words, how continually, when we act a part, -we consider ourselves one of the audience, and strive to deceive that -individual the very first. - -However that might be, there was Billy Lamb, the pot-boy, just before -Doctor Miles, with an empty tankard in his hand; and the good doctor -no sooner beheld him, than he stopped, and, in a kindly tone, asked -him how the world went with him. Now Doctor Miles was a great man in -the neighbourhood; he had property of his own of not very great -extent, but which rendered the living that he held but an accessory to -his principal means of subsistence. He did not live by the altar, but -for the altar; and there are no such keen drawers of distinctions as -the lower classes. Of this thing all clergymen may be sure, that he -who makes a trade of his profession, who exacts the uttermost penny -which he has a right to, and something more, who increases burial -fees, and makes broad the borders of all his dues, will always be held -in contempt. Of the butcher, the baker, and the grocer, the lower -orders expect such things. The exaction of a farthing on half-a-pound, -more than is really just, they know is a part of the privileges of the -knife, the oven, and the scales and weights. But with the ministers of -a pure and holy religion, whose grand and fundamental principle is -charity and abnegation of self, they expect a higher and a wider sense -of benevolence, a more large and disinterested view of the relations -of a pastor and flock. Thick must be the veil that covers from the -eyes of the humble and the needy that greedy and grasping spirit which -too frequently, like the ghoul of Eastern fable, preys among the -sepulchres of the dead, and takes advantage of the moment of -overwhelming distress and agony of mind, to urge the coarse claims of -priestly avarice; claims, but too frequently, untenable in law and -always barbarous, even when not illegal--dues which should be swept -away for ever, which should no longer exist as a constant source of -heart-burning and complaint between pastor and people, making the one -derive a portion of his living by laying a tax most onerous and hard -to be borne, either upon the joys or the sorrows of his parishioners, -and the others to look upon their teacher as one who sets at defiance -the first principles of the Gospel that he preaches, following -"avarice which is idolatry," and forgetting charity, "which covers a -multitude of sins." - -Luckily, both by position and inclination, Doctor Miles was exempt -from all such reproaches. His necessities did not force him into -meannesses, and his natural disposition would never have suffered him -to fall into them, whatever his circumstances might have been. One -heard nothing in his parish of enormous charges for a brick grave, -swollen surplice-fees, that would make a cholera, a plague, or a -pestilence so rich a harvest, that the minister who would pray in his -desk against plague, pestilence, and famine, would be the grossest of -hypocrites. He did not look upon his churchyard as the most valuable -and productive part of his glebe, to be manured by the corpses of -his parishioners, and bear a cent-per-cent crop in monuments and -grave-stones. The consecration of the bishop he did not look upon as -fertilising the land for his own enrichment, but contented himself -with the bare amount of the moderate fee awarded by the law, and -neither asked nor received a penny more. Many of the neighbouring -clergy called him a weak and prejudiced man, and exclaimed loudly -against him for neglecting the interests, or, as they called them, -"the rights of the church." But, somehow, his parishioners loved him, -though he was rather an austere man, too, and never spared invective -or exhortation in case of error and misconduct. The secret, perhaps, -was, that they were convinced of his disinterestedness. He took from -no man more than was his due; he required of no man more than he had -the warrant of Scripture for requiring. His private fortune gave him -the means of charity, and to that object all his private fortune was -devoted. Every one in the neighbourhood knew that Doctor Miles could -have a finer house, could keep a better table, could maintain a -smarter equipage; but, at the same time, they were aware of two -things, first, that his income was not as large as it might have been -had he chosen to exact the uttermost farthing; and, secondly, that it -was not for the purpose of hoarding his money that he did not spend it -upon himself. - -Thus Doctor Miles, as well may be conceived, was very much reverenced -in the neighbourhood; his rebukes were listened to, and sometimes -taken to heart; his advice was sought, and sometimes followed; his -opinions were always respected, if his injunctions were not always -obeyed; and his severity of manner was very well understood not to -imply any real harshness of heart. - -The cap was off Billy Lamb's head in a moment, when he approached Dr. -Miles; but he did not venture to speak to him till the doctor, after -gazing at him for a moment in a fit of absence, exclaimed, "Ah, -William, how goes it with you? and how is your poor mother?" - -"Oh, quite well," replied the youth, in his peculiarly sweet, low -voice; "mother's better than she was, though she has never been so -well since poor Mary's death." - -"How should she? how should she?" exclaimed Doctor Miles; "these -things, my man, affect young people but little, old people but little; -for young people are full of their own life, and with them that -consideration supersedes all thoughts connected with death; and old -people are so full of the conviction of life's brevity, that the -matter of a few years more or less is to them insignificant. It is to -the middle-aged that the death of the young is terrible; it clouds the -past with regrets, and the future with apprehensions. But I want to -speak to your mother, Bill; she must forgive Stephen Gimlet, and try -and help him, and be a comfort to him." - -"I wish she would," said the boy, looking down; "I am sure Stephen is -not so bad as people call him, and never would have taken poor Mary -away, if mother had not been so strict." - -"I must talk to her," answered Doctor Miles; "but you may tell her, if -you see her before I do, that Stephen is a changed man, and Sir John -Slingsby has taken him for a gamekeeper.--Tell her, will you," he -continued, after a moment's thought, "that the cottage on the moor has -been burned down, and the poor little boy, Charley, would have been -burnt in it, because there was no mother, nor other relation of any -kind to help him, had it not been for a gentleman who is staying up at -the hall coming by at the time and rescuing the boy from the flames." - -"Ah, I am sure that was the gentleman that was down here," exclaimed -the pot-boy; "Captain Hayward they called him; for he was a kind, good -gentleman as ever lived, and gave me enough for mother to put -something by against the winter." - -"That is no reason why he should be walking on the moor," said Doctor -Miles, quickly. "However, I must talk to her, for the boy must not be -left alone any more; and we must see what can be done. But now tell -me, Bill, what wages do you get?" - -"A shilling a week and my victuals," replied the boy, in an unrepining -tone; "it is very kind of Mr. Groomber, I am sure; and I do what I can -but that's not much." - -"Humph!" said Doctor Miles, with not the most affirmative tone in the -world; "well, I'll come by and by, and see your mother; can you go -down and tell her that I am coming?" - -"Oh yes, Sir," replied the boy; "they give me a quarter of an hour to -eat my dinner, so I can go very well; but I must go first to Mr. -Slattery's, the doctor; for Mrs. Billiter told me to bid him come up -quietly to Mr. Wittingham, as if just for a call; for the old -gentleman came home ill last night, and has taken to his bed." - -"Mr. Slattery is out," replied Doctor Miles. "I met him on the road; -but leave the message, Bill, leave the message, and I will go up and -see Mr. Wittingham myself." - -Thus saying, he bade the boy adieu, and walked on to the smart white -gates of Mr. Wittingham's highly-cultivated place, and, passing -through the garden, rang the bell at the door, which was opened to him -by a servant in a straight-cut blue coat, black and yellow striped -waistcoat, and black plush breeches, with drab gaiters. - -In answer to Doctor Miles's inquiry, the servant informed him that Mr. -Wittingham was in bed, and could see no one; but the worthy clergyman -pressed for admission, saying that his business was of importance. A -consultation then took place between the man-servant and the -housekeeper, and, after some hesitation, Mrs. Billiter went up to her -master to inform him of Doctor Miles's visit, with a particular -injunction to impress upon the mind of the sick man that the -clergyman's business was of moment. She came down the next minute and -begged the visitor to walk up, with as low a curtsey as her long stiff -stays would permit her to make; and, she leading the way, Doctor Miles -followed with a slow and meditative step. - -The room-door was gently unclosed, and the clergyman, entering, fixed -his eyes upon the figure of Mr. Wittingham as he lay in the bed, and a -sad sight it was. Terrible was the effect that one night of sickness -had wrought upon him. The long, thin, bony limbs were plainly visible -through the bed-clothes, and so far, Mr. Wittingham well, or Mr. -Wittingham ill, showed no difference; but there was the face upon the -pillow, and there were to be seen traces enough, more of suffering -than sickness. The features had suddenly grown sharp, and the cheeks -hollow; the eye was bright and wandering, the brow furrowed, and the -hue of the complexion, partly from the light-brown moreen curtain of -the bed--the most detestable curtains in the world--partly from a -sleepless, anxious, suffering night, had grown yellow, if not -cadaverous. Patches of short-cut gray hair, usually concealed by the -wig, were now suffered, by the nightcap, to show themselves upon the -temples. The large front teeth, the high nose and the protuberant -chin, were all more prominent than usual; and certainly Mr. -Wittingham, in cotton nightcap and clean linen sheets, was not the -most prepossessing person that ever the eye rested upon. - -Doctor Miles, however, advanced quietly to his bedside, and, sitting -down in a chair, opened the conversation in a kindly tone. - -"I am sorry to find you ill, my good friend," he said; "you seemed -well enough last night." - -"Ay, ay, that's another thing, doctor," replied the invalid; "but I -got a terrible fright after that, and that has given me quite a turn." - -"As to the way you will direct that turn," answered the clergyman, -"you will need some good advice, Mr. Wittingham." - -"Ay, ay," said the magistrate, somewhat impatiently. "Billiter there -has been boring me for an hour to send for that fellow Slattery; but I -don't think he could do me any good. He is a humbug, as well as the -most of those doctors." - -"But not more than most," answered Doctor Miles, "which is a great -thing in this part of the country. You may go, Mrs. Billiter; I wish -to be alone with Mr. Wittingham." - -Mrs. Billiter, who had remained upon the best, the oldest, and most -invariable excuse, that of putting the room in order, for the purpose -of gaining an insight into all that took place, dropped a curtsey, and -withdrew unwillingly. - -Mr. Wittingham eyed Doctor Miles with a shrewd, inquiring, but timid -glance. It was evident that he would have dispensed, with the doctor's -coming, that he did not half like it, that he wished to know what he -could want, why he came, what was his business, what could be his -object, and why his manner was so grave and cautious. Heaven knows -that Mr. Wittingham was not an imaginative man; that he was not -subject to the sports of fancy, and seldom or ever presented to his -mind any image of things, past or future, unless it were in a large -parchment-covered volume, in which was inscribed in large letters, -upon the last page: "Balance, in favour of Mr. Wittingham, sixty-nine -thousand odd hundred pounds." Nevertheless, on this occasion the -worthy gentleman's imagination ran restive; for, as a weedy old horse, -when people endeavour to whip it into any thing; more than its -ordinary pace, turns up its heels, and flings them, into the face of -its driver; so did Mr. Wittingham's fancy at once assert its -predominance over reason, by presenting to him for his choice every -possible sort of business upon which Doctor Miles might, could, would, -should, or ought, have come to Tarningham Lodge. He, therefore, sat in -his bed with his nightcap on his head, grinning at him, like Yorick's -skull, with a ghastly smile. Courtesy has its agonies, as well as -other things; and the politeness of Mr. Wittingham was agonising. -Speak he could not, that was out of the question; but, with a grim -contortion of countenance, he motioned the worthy doctor to a chair, -and the other took it with provoking deliberation, concealing, under -an air of imperturbable coolness, a certain degree of embarrassment, -and a considerable degree of feeling. - -To tell the truth, he much desired that Mr. Wittingham would begin -first; but he soon saw that there was no hope of such being the case, -and his profession had accustomed him to the initiative. Wherefore, -after three preliminary hums, he went on to say, "My dear Sir, I -thought it better to come down to you to-day, to speak to you on a -somewhat painful subject, but one which had better be grappled with at -once; and that rather in conversation with me, a minister of peace and -goodwill towards men, than with others, who, though equally bound by -the injunctions of the religion which I unworthily teach and they -believe, have what they consider duties apart, which might interfere -with an unlimited exercise of Christian charity." - -Excellent, Doctor Miles; you are keeping the poor man in a state of -torture. Why will you preach, when you are not in the pulpit. But -Doctor Miles was not a prosy man by nature; he was short, brief, and -terse in his general conversation, and only preached when he was in -embarrassment. That such was evidently the case at present greatly -increased the evils of Mr. Wittingham's position; and when the doctor -was talking of Christian charity, the sick magistrate was mentally -sending him to a place where very little charity of any kind is -supposed to be practised--not that we know any thing of the matter; -for even in the present day, with steamboats, railroads, and all the -appliances of human ingenuity to boot, tourists and travellers have -not pushed their researches quite as far as the place alluded to; or, -at all events, have not favoured the world with an account of their -discoveries. - -After the above proem, Dr. Miles stumbled for a moment or two, and -then recovering himself, continued thus: - -"The unfortunate affair which took place last night must doubtless -give rise to legal inquiries, which will, depend upon it, be pursued -with great energy and determination; for Captain Hayward, I find, -followed the unhappy young man at once; and, if I judge rightly, he is -not one to abandon his object when it is but half-attained." - -"Oh, that Captain Hayward, that Captain Hayward!" cried Wittingham, -angrily, "he is always meddling with other people's affairs." - -"Nay, my dear Sir," answered Dr. Miles; "this was his affair, and the -affair of every body in the room. The ball passed within an inch of -his friend Mr. Beauchamp's head, and might have been intended for -him--at least, so Captain Hayward might have supposed, had not your -own exclamation at the moment--" - -"My exclamation!" cried Mr. Wittingham, with a look of horror, "what -did I exclaim?" - -Doctor Miles did not answer him directly at first, replying merely, -"you said enough, Mr. Wittingham, to show who it was, in your opinion, -that had fired the shot." - -Mr. Wittingham clasped his hands together in an agony of despair and -sunk with his head upon the pillow, as if he would fain have hid his -face in the bed-clothes, but Dr. Miles went on kindly to say, - -"Moreover, my dear Sir, your exclamation was sufficient to make me -feel for you deeply--to feel for you with sincere compassion, and to -desire anxiously to serve and assist you." - -Now Mr. Wittingham was not accustomed to be compassionated; he did not -like the thing and he did not like the word; he was a vain man and a -proud man, and compassion was a humiliation which he did not like to -undergo; but still anxiety and trouble were the strongest, and he -repeated two or three times in a quick, sharp voice, - -"What did I say? What did I say?" - -"You said that it was your son," answered the clergyman, "and various -corroborative circumstances have transpired which--" - -But by this time Mr. Wittingham was in such a state of agitation that -it was evident he would hear nothing further that was said to him at -the moment, and therefore the good doctor stopped short. The -magistrate covered his eyes; he wrung his hands hard together; he -gazed forth at the sky; he even wept. - -"Then it is all over, all over," he cried, at length, "it is all -over," by which he meant that all his dreams of importance, his plans -of rural grandeur and justice-of-the-peaceism, his "reverence" on the -bench and at the quarter-sessions, his elevation as a country -gentleman, and his oblivion as a small trader, were all frustrated, -gone, lost, smothered and destroyed by his son's violent conduct and -his own indiscreet babbling in the moment of fear and grief. - -"Ah, Doctor Miles," he said, "it's a sad business, a sad business. As -you know it all, there is no use of my holding my tongue. Harry did do -it; and, indeed, he told me before that he would do it, or something -like it; for he came here--here, down into Tarningham, and told me on -the very bench, that if I pushed that business about Mrs. Clifford's -carriage any further it should go worse with me. It was a threat, my -dear doctor, and I was not to be deterred from doing my duty by a -threat, and so I told him, and immediately took up the man they call -Wolf, on suspicion--for Sir John had been down here, swearing at my -door, and what could I do, you know." - -Now Doctor Miles had seen a great deal of the world, and, though a -good and benevolent man, and one not at all inclined to think the -worst of one of his fellow-creatures, yet he could not help seeing -that there was a great deal of weakness and eagerness to shuffle any -burden from himself in Mr. Wittingham's reply. There are certain sorts -of knowledge which force themselves upon our understanding, whether we -will or not, and amongst these is discrimination of human character. -People, long accustomed to the world, find great difficulty even in -believing a practised liar, however much they may wish to do so on -certain points. They see through, in spite of themselves, all the -little petty artifices with which self hides itself from self, and -still more clearly through the mean policy by which the mean man -strives to conceal his meanness from the eyes of his fellow-creatures. -Whether it be the pitiful man, in any of the common walks of life, -exacting more than his due, and striving to hide his greed under the -veil of liberality and disinterestedness, whether it be the candidate, -on the canvass or on the hustings, escaping from the explanation of -his intentions upon the plea of independence and free judgment, or -whether it be the minister of the crown evading the fulfilment of -obligations, or shrinking from the recognition of support by all the -thousand subterfuges in the vast dictionary of political dishonesty, -the man learned in the world's ways, however willing to be duped, -cannot believe and confide, cannot admire and respect. The case with -Mr. Wittingham was a very simple one. Doctor Miles saw and understood -the whole process of his mind in a moment; but he was sorry for the -man; he felt what agony it must be to have such a son, and he hastened -as far as possible to relieve him. - -"I think, my dear Sir," he said, "that you have made some mistakes in -this matter; I do not presume to interfere with any man's domestic -arrangements, but I will candidly acknowledge that I have thought, in -watching the progress of your son's education, that it was not likely -to result in good to his character--nay, hear me out, for I am only -making this observation as a sort of excuse, not so much for him, as -for the advice I am going to give you, which can only be justified by -a belief that the young man is not so depraved by nature as by -circumstances." - -They were hard words, very hard words, that Doctor Miles uttered, but -there was a stern impressiveness in his manner which overawed Mr. -Wittingham, kept down his vanity from revolting against the implied -accusation, and prevented him from even writhing openly at the plain -terms in which his son's conduct was stigmatised. - -"Under these circumstances," continued Doctor Miles, "I think it much -better that you send your son out of the country as fast as possible, -afford him such means as will enable him to live in respectability, -without indulging in vice; warn him seriously of the end to which his -present courses will lead him, and give him to understand that if he -abandons them, and shows an inclination to become a good and useful -member of society, the faults of his youth may be forgotten, and their -punishment be remitted. On the latter point, I think I may say that, -should he at once quit the country, no further steps against him will -be taken. You know very well that Sir John Slingsby, though hot and -irascible, is a kind and good-natured man at heart." - -"Sir John Slingsby! Sir John Slingsby!" exclaimed Mr. Wittingham, -bustling up with an air of relief, as if something had suddenly turned -a screw or opened a safety-valve, and delivered him from the high -pressure of Doctor Miles's grave and weighty manner, "Sir John -Slingsby, Sir, dare do nothing against me or mine; for there is a -balance against him. He may talk, and he may bully and crack his -jokes.--I have submitted to all that a great deal too long, without -requiring a settlement of the account; and there's five thousand -pounds against him I can tell you, which he will find it a difficult -matter to pay, I have a notion--ah, ah, Doctor Miles, I know what I am -about. Five thousand pounds are five thousand pounds, Doctor Miles, -and I know all the situation of Sir John's affairs, too; so he had -better not meddle with me, he had better not enrage me; for he will -risk less in letting all this foolish business pass off quietly -without inquiry, than producing inquiry into his own affairs in the -county. A good jolly gentleman I don't mean to say he is not; but I -can tell you he is tottering on the verge of ruin, and I don't want to -force him over unless he drives me: and so he had better not, that's -all." - -Doctor Miles had gazed at him as he spoke with a keen, subacid look, -and in some degree even of amusement, and this calm, supercilious look -greatly annoyed and embarrassed Mr. Wittingham towards the end of his -tirade. It was evident that Doctor Miles was not in the least taken -unprepared, that the intimation of Sir John Slingsby's position in -worldly affairs neither surprised nor disappointed him in the least; -and when Mr. Wittingham at length stopped in some embarrassment, his -reply tended still further to puzzle and confound the worthy -magistrate for he merely said, - -"Perhaps so, Mr. Wittingham, but I do not think Sir John Slingsby's -pecuniary circumstances will at all prevent him from performing his -public duties. If he has reason to believe that your son is in the -road to amendment, he is very likely to look over his present -offences, as they are, in some degree, personal to himself and his -family. If he imagines that he will go on from one crime to another, -depend upon it he will think it only right to cut his career short at -once. The only fear is, that if this debt which you speak of ever -crosses his mind, it will only serve as a bar to his lenity; for no -man is so likely to be seized with a sudden determination to punish -with the utmost rigour, if he were to suspect for one moment that his -debt to you, whatever might be the amount, might be assigned as the -motive by any one for his forbearance. I would not advise you to urge -such a plea, Mr. Wittingham; but, depend upon it, if this debt is -considered at all, it will be considered to your disadvantage. Besides -all this, you must recollect that other persons were present; -therefore Sir John has not the whole matter in his own hands. However, -I have given you the best advice in my power; you can take it, if you -like; if not, the consequences be upon your own head; and you must not -blame any one for any thing that may occur in the due course of law." - -And rising from the bedside, he was about to depart, when Mr. -Wittingham stopped him. - -"Stay, stay, my dear Sir," said the magistrate, eagerly; "let us -discuss this question a little further; I wish no harm to Sir John -Slingsby, and I trust he wishes none to me. But are you sure there -were other persons who heard the words I spoke? Very unfortunate, very -unfortunate, indeed." - -Now the truth was, that Mr. Wittingham was in a state of high -irritation. The comments which Doctor Miles had made, or rather the -hints which he had thrown out in regard to the education of his son, -had greatly exasperated him. He never liked it to be even hinted that -he was wrong; it was a sort of accusation which he never could bear; -and the worthy doctor would have been permitted in patience to proceed -with any other of Mr. Wittingham's friends or enemies without the -least interruption; but it was natural that he should take fire in -regard to his son. Why natural? it may be asked. For this reason, that -the education of his son was associated intimately with Mr. -Wittingham's own vanity; and the idea of his faults being owing to -education, was a direct reflection upon Mr. Wittingham himself. - -Doctor Miles, however, regarded none of these things; and though the -worthy magistrate desired him to stay, he declared he had no time, -saying, - -"Further discussion is out of the question. I have given you advice -that I know to be kind, that I believe to be good. Take it, if you -judge so; leave it, if you judge otherwise. Pursue what course you -think best in regard to Sir John Slingsby; but, at all events, do not -attempt to influence him, by pecuniary considerations; for be assured -that, although he may, by imprudence, have embarrassed his property, -he has not arrived at that pitch of degradation which is only brought -on step by step from the pressure of narrow circumstances, and which -induces men to forget, great principles in order to escape from small -difficulties. Good morning, Mr. Wittingham;" and, without further -pause, Doctor Miles quitted the room, and walked down stairs. In the -hall he met Mr. Wharton, the attorney, going up, with a somewhat sour -and discontented face; but all that passed between the two gentlemen -was a cold bow, and the clergyman left the house in possession of the -lawyer. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - -It is a very unpleasant position indeed to be above your neck in the -water, with another man holding fast by your collar, especially if it -be by both hands. It may be a friend who has so got you, it may be an -enemy; but the operation comes to pretty nearly the same thing in both -cases; and that the result is not at all an agreeable one, I say it -boldly and without fear of contradiction; for, although drowning is -said to be accompanied by no real pain, and I have heard many -half-drowned persons declare that it is rather pleasant than -otherwise, yet that is only a part of the process, not the result; -then again Sir Peter Laurie can witness, that there are multitudes of -persons, who, after having taken one suffocating dip in Mother Thames, -repeat the attempt perseveringly, as if they found it very delightful -indeed; but still I contend that they have not come to the end of the -thing, and, therefore, can give no real opinion. "To lie in cold -obstruction and to rot," to become the prey of the lean, abhorred -monster death, to separate from the warm tenement in which our abode -on earth has been made, to part with the companionship of all the -senses and sensations, the thrills and feelings, which have been our -friends, our guides, our monitors, our servants, our officers in the -course of mortal existence--this is the result of that tight pressure -upon the cravat or coat-collar which we shrink from, when, with our -head under the water, we feel the fingers of friend or enemy -approaching too near the organs of respiration. If the gentleman -grasps our legs we can kick him off; if he seizes our hands we can -often shake him away; but the deadly pressure upon the chest and neck; -the clinging, grasping energy of those small digits on the throat, -when we find that, half a second more and life is gone, is perhaps as -unpleasant a thing as often falls to the lot of mortal man to feel. - -Now Ned Hayward, I have endeavoured to impress upon the reader's mind, -was a brave, bold, determined fellow as ever lived. There was no -danger he would not have fronted, no fate he would not have risked for -a good and worthy object. He was a good swimmer, too; but when after a -headlong plunge into the water he felt himself undermost in the fall, -out of his depth, his feet entangled in a weed, and the fingers and -thumbs of Captain Moreton tight upon his throat, he was seized with an -irresistible propensity to knock him off by any means, even at the -risk of losing his prisoner. The first method that suggested itself -was a straightforward blow at his adversary, and that taking effect -upon his chest was successful with a man half-drowned himself. His -antagonist let go his hold, rose as fast as he could, dashed at the -other bank, gained the ground and was off. Poor Ned Hayward, however, -soon found that if he had freed himself from one enemy, he was still -in the power of another. It is a terrible thing that a strong, -powerful man, instinct with every energy and quality of high animal -life, and, moreover, having an immortal soul, to be kept or parted -with, should every now and then be completely at the mercy of a thin, -pitiful, pulpy weed, which, to all appearances, might be broken or -smashed in a moment. But moments are very important things, and the -_vis inertiæ_ a tremendous power. The weed made no attempt to hold the -young gentleman, it neither grasped his legs, nor clasped his knees, -but it was carried by the current around the ankles of Ned Hayward, -and there, somehow or other, it stuck fast, preventing him from -moving; in fact, it was like many a great politician (in the world's -opinion), who operate many great changes upon their neighbours by mere -_vis inertiæ_, waiting till the tide of circumstances brings them to -action, and then holding fast to a particular point till all -opposition is drowned. - -Such had well-nigh been the case with Ned Hayward; for what little -strength he had left was nearly expended in the blow he gave to -Captain Moreton; and when he found that his feet were entangled in the -weed which would not have snapped a single gut-line with a May-fly at -the end of it, his powers did not suffice to tear himself away. This -history, as far as he was concerned, seemed likely to come to a hasty -conclusion, when suddenly he found a strong hand grasp his arm just -below the shoulder, and give his whole frame a vehement impulse -towards the surface of the water. The next instant he saw, heard, -breathed, once more; and before he had time to do either of these -things above a second, he found his right elbow leaning on the bank, -and Mr. Beauchamp, who was not very well aware whether he was dead, -alive, or half-drowned, endeavouring to draw him up on the bank. To -use the words of the poet, in a very indecent episode of a very chaste -and beautiful poem-- - - - One stupid moment motionless he stood; - - -but the next puff of the right element which went into his lungs -recalled all his activity, and up he jumped on the bank with a spring -which astonished Beauchamp, made Isabella Slingsby draw back, and -brought a faint colour into Mary Clifford's cheek. The glow was -accompanied by a smile, however, which showed that this proof of Ned -Hayward's still active powers was not unpleasant to her. - -The first thing the young officer did, however, was to shake Mr. -Beauchamp warmly by the hand, exclaiming, - -"Upon my life you were just in time--it was nearly over with me--I -could not have stood it half a minute longer. Every thing was turning -green, and I know that's a bad sign." - -The next thing was to pick up his fishing-rod and tackle, crying, as -he raised them from the ground, - -"He has frightened away that big old trout; I should have had him in -another second; I may have to walk half an hour more before I find -such another; I could see him eyeing the fly all ready for a rise." - -"But who was the gentleman?" - -"What was the quarrel about?" - -"Why did you seize him?" demanded Isabella, Mary, and Beauchamp, all -together. - -Let the reader remark, that each framed his question differently. - -"That is the man who fired the shot into the window last night," -replied Ned Hayward, looking curiously at the fly upon his hook; and -two of his companions instantly turned their eyes in the direction -which Captain Moreton had taken, with a look of alarm, as if they -feared he would fire another shot from the bushes amongst which he had -disappeared. Beauchamp, for his part, cast down his eyes and said -nothing--not a word! Nay more; he shut his teeth close and drew his -lips over them, as if he were afraid he should say something; and -then, after a moment's pause, he turned to Ned Hayward, saying, - -"Had you not better give up this fishing, come up to the house and -change your clothes?" - -"Oh dear no," cried Ned Hayward, "on no account whatever; I'll catch -my fish before twelve o'clock yet; and very likely have the very -fellow that our plunge scared away from here. Do you know, Beauchamp, -it is sometimes not a bad plan to frighten a cunning old speckled -gentleman like this, if you find that he is suspicious and won't bite. -I have tried it often, and found it succeed very well. He gets into a -fuss, dashes up or down, does not know well where to stop, and then, -out of mere irritation, bites at the first thing that is thrown in his -way. Come along and we shall see. He went down, I think, for I had an -eye upon him till he darted off." - -"But you are very wet, too, Mr. Beauchamp," said Isabella. "If Captain -Hayward is too much of an old campaigner to change his clothes, I do -not see why you should neglect to do so." - -"For the best reason in the world, my dear Miss Slingsby," replied -Beauchamp, "because I have no clothes here with which to change these -I have on." - -"But there are plenty at the house," replied Isabella, eagerly. - -"But I am afraid, they would not fit," replied Beauchamp, laughing; "I -am in no fear, however; for I am as old a campaigner as Captain -Hayward." - -"Let us move about, at all events," said Mary Clifford; and following -Ned Hayward down the stream, they watched his progress, as he, intent -apparently upon nothing but his sport, went flogging the water, to see -what he could obtain. Three or four very large trout, skilfully -hooked, artistically played, and successfully landed, soon repaid his -labour; but Ned Hayward was not yet satisfied, but, at length, he -paused abruptly, and held up his finger to the others as a sign not to -approach too near. He was within about twenty yards of a spot where -the stream, taking a slight bend, entered into sort of pass between -two low copses, one on either hand, composed of thin and feathery -trees, the leaves of which, slightly agitated by the wind, cast a -varying and uncertain light and shade upon the water. The river, where -he stood, was quite smooth; but ten steps further it fell over two or -three small plates of rock, which scattered and disturbed it, as it -ran, leaving a bubbling rapid beyond, and then a deep, but rippling -pool, with two or three sharp whirls in it, just where the shadows of -the leaves were dancing on the waters. Ned Hayward deliberately took -the fly off the line and put on another, fixing his eye, from time to -time, on a particular spot in the pool beyond. He then threw his line -on the side of the rapid next to him, let the fly float down with a -tremulous motion, kept it playing up and down on the surface of the -foam, with a smile upon his lips, then suffered it to be carried -rapidly on into the bubbling pool, as if carried away by the force of -the water, and held it for a moment quivering there; the next moment -he drew it sharply towards him, but not far. There was an instant rush -in the stream, and a sharp snap, which you might almost hear. The -slightest possible stroke of the rod was given, and then the wheel ran -rapidly off, while the patriarch of the stream dashed away with the -hook in his jaws. The instant he paused, he was wound up and drawn -gently along, and then he dashed away again, floundered and splashed, -and struck the shallow waters with his tail, till, at length, -exhausted and half-drowned, he was drawn gradually up to the rocks; -and Ned Hayward, wading in, landed him safely on the shore. - -"This is the game of life, Miss Clifford," he said, as he put the -trout of more than three pounds' weight into the basket. "Rendered -cautious and prudent by some sad experiences, we shrink from every -thing that seems too easy of attainment, then, when we find something -that Fate's cunning hand plays before our eyes as if to be withdrawn -in a moment, we watch it with suspicious but greedy eagerness, till we -think a moment more will lose it for ever, then dart at it blindly, -and feel the hook in our jaws." - -Mary Clifford smiled, and then looked grave; and Isabella laughed, -exclaiming, - -"The moral of fly-fishing! And a good lesson, I suppose, you mean for -all over-cautious mammas--or did you mean it was a part of your own -history? Captain Hayward, retrospective and prophetic, or was it a -general disquisition upon man?" - -"I am afraid man is the trout," said Beauchamp; "and not in one -particular pursuit, but all: love, interest, ambition, every one -alike. His course and end are generally the same." - -"That speech of yours, fair lady, was so like a woman," said Ned -Hayward, turning to Miss Slingsby; "if it were not that my hands were -wet, I would presume upon knowing you as a child, and give you a good -shake. I thought you had been brought up enough with men, to know that -they are not always thinking of love and matrimony. You women have but -one paramount idea, as to this life's concerns I mean, and you never -hear any thing without referring it to that. However, after all, -perhaps, it is natural: - - - "Man's love is of man's life a thing apart. - 'Tis woman's whole existence." - - -"Too sad a truth," replied Mary Clifford, thoughtfully; "perhaps it is -of too little importance in man's eyes; of too much in woman's." - -"And yet how terribly she sometimes trifles with it," said Beauchamp, -in a still gloomier tone. - -"Perhaps, you think, she trifles with every thing, Mr. Beauchamp," -rejoined Isabella; "but men know so little of women, and see so little -of women as they really are, that they judge the many from the few: -and we must forgive them; nevertheless, even if it be true that they -do trifle with it, it is not the least proof that they do not feel it. -All beings are fond of sporting with what is bright and dangerous: the -moth round the candle, the child with the penknife, and man with -ambition." - -"All mankind," said Ned Hayward, "men and women alike, get merrily -familiar with that which is frequently presented to their thoughts. -Look at the undertaker, or the sexton, how he jests with his fat -corpse, and only screws his face into a grim look when he has the -world's eye upon him; then jumps upon the hearse and canters back, to -get drunk and joyous at the next public-house." - -"Hush! hush! Captain Hayward," cried Isabella, "I declare your figures -of speech are too horrible; we will have no more of such sad -conversation; can we not talk of something more pleasant as we go -back?" - -"I don't know," said Ned Hayward, "I am in a moralising mood this -morning." - -And as Isabella and Mr. Beauchamp walked on a little in advance to -pass the narrow path, which only admitted two abreast, he continued in -a somewhat lower tone, saying to Mary Clifford, - -"I cannot get my spirits up this morning. The dangerous circumstances -of my good old friend, Sir John, vex me much. Have you spoken to your -cousin about them? She seems wonderfully gay." - -"I have," answered Miss Clifford; "but it would need a heavy weight, -Captain Hayward, to sink her light heart. She promised to mention the -matter to Mr. Beauchamp, too; but I rather imagine from what has -occurred, that she had not done it." - -"Oh, she has done it, depend upon it," replied the young officer; "and -that is what makes her so gay. But I must speak with Beauchamp myself, -and make the matter sure." - -In the meantime, Beauchamp had walked on with Isabella; and there -could be little or no doubt, in the minds of any one who came behind -them, that he was making love. Not that they heard a word that was -said, no, not a single syllable, but there is a peculiar gesture -associated with the making of love, by a gentleman at least, which -distinguishes it from every other process. Beauchamp, as we have -described him, was above the middle height; but Isabella was not below -it; and there was not the slightest occasion for him to bend down his -head, in order that she might hear him distinctly, unless he had -something to say which he did not wish others to hear likewise. He did -bend down his head, however, and said what he had to say in a very low -tone; and, although he did not stare her rudely in the face, yet from -time to time he looked into her eyes, as if he thought them the -crystal windows of the heart. Isabella, on her side, did not bend her -head; she held it a little on one side, indeed, so as in the least -perceptible degree to turn the fine small ear to the words that were -poured into it; generally, however, she looked down, with the long -fringes veiling the violet of her eyes, though from time to time she -raised them at something that he said; and when her look met his, they -fell again. They had to cross over a little brook, and Beauchamp took -her hand to help her over. He drew it through his arm when he had -done, and there it rested for the remainder of the walk. - -Involuntarily, and almost unconsciously as they marked this, Mary -Clifford and Captain Hayward turned to each other with a smile. The -impulse with each was to see if the other had remarked it--a very -simple impulse--but when their looks met, it made a more compound -phrase; and the anagram of the heart might read thus: - -"May we not as well make love too?" - -It was a sore temptation; but the next instant Ned Hayward's -countenance became exceedingly grave, and the warm healthy glow in his -cheek grew a shade paler. - -If there was a struggle in his breast, it was brought to an end in -about five minutes; for, just as they were climbing the side of the -hill again, they were met by joyous old Sir John Slingsby, whose whole -face and air generally bore with it an emanation of cheerful content, -which is usually supposed, but, alas! mistakenly to be the peculiar -portion of the good and wise. Thoughtlessness, temperament, habit, -often possess that which is the coveted possession of wisdom and -virtue; and often in this world the sunshine of the heart spreads over -the pathway of him who neither sees his own misfortunes lying before -him, nor thinks of the sorrows of others scattered around. - -"Ah, boys and girls, boys and girls!" cried the baronet, laughing, -"whither have you wandered so long? I have done a world of business -since you have been gone, thank Heaven; and, thank Heaven, have left a -world undone; so I shall never, like Alexander, that maudling, -drunken, rattle-pate of antiquity, have to weep for new worlds to -conquer. Ned Hayward, Ned Hayward, I have a quarrel with you. Absent -from evening drill and morning parade without leave! We will have you -tried by a court-martial, boy; but what news have you brought? did you -overtake the enemy? or was he too much for you? whither is he -retreated? and last, though not least, who and what is he?" - -"On my life, Sir John, I do not know who he is," answered Ned Hayward. -"We have had two engagements, in which, I am fain to confess, he has -had the advantage, and has retreated in good order both times. I shall -catch him yet, however; but at present I have not time to give full -information; for--" - -"Not time, not time!" cried the baronet; "what the devil have you done -with all your time, not to have half an hour to spare to your old -colonel?" - -"In the first place, my dear Sir, I am wet," replied the young -officer, "for I have been in the water, and must change my clothes; -but I have won my bet, however; I promised to catch the best trout in -the river before noon; and there he is; match him if you can." - -"Before noon," exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, taking out his watch; -"twenty minutes past twelve, by Jove!" - -"Ay, but he has been caught twenty minutes," said Ned Hayward, "I will -appeal to all persons present." - -"Well, granted, granted," exclaimed the baronet, "the bet's won, the -bet's won. You shall change your clothes, make yourself look like a -gentleman, and then tell the reverend company your story." - -"Impossible," answered Ned Hayward, shaking his head; "I have forty -things to do." - -"Forty things!" cried Sir John; "why I have finished two hundred and -fifty, upon a moderate computation, within an hour and ten minutes." - -"Ah, my dear Sir," said the young gentleman, "but I have got to change -my clothes, write a letter, speak two words to Beauchamp, talk for a -quarter of an hour to Ste. Gimlet about his boy's education, pack up -some clothes, and be down at Tarningham in time for the coach to -London, as well as to induce your butler to give me some luncheon and -a glass of the best old sherry in your cellar." - -"Pack up some clothes!--coach to London!" cried Sir John Slingsby, in -a more serious tone than he had yet used; "the boy is mad; his head is -turned! Ned Hayward, Ned Hayward, what the devil do you mean, Ned -Hayward?" - -"Simply, my dear Sir John, that some business of importance calls me -to London immediately," rejoined his young friend; "but I shall be -down again to-morrow, or the next day at the furthest; and, in the -meantime, I leave you horse and gun, fishing-tackle and appurtenances, -which I give you free leave and licence to confiscate if I do not keep -my word." - -"Well, well!" exclaimed the baronet, "go along, change your clothes, -and come and get some luncheon. I always thought you a great donkey, -Ned, and now I think so more than ever, when I see you quit -comfortable quarters for a dull stagecoach. Go along, I say, go -along; there's the door, which is always better said on the outside of -a house than in the in." - -"Thank you, Sir John; but I must just speak a word with Beauchamp -first," replied Captain Hayward; and taking his new friend's arm, he -drew him a little on one side, while the baronet and the two ladies -entered the house. - -"I have got a favour to ask you, Beauchamp," said Captain Hayward: -"matters have got into a complication between myself and this young -Wittingham, which may require a pistol-shot to unravel it. The fellow, -who fired through the window last night, certainly rode his horse; I -walked straight into his room, thinking I might find the man there. I -told him the occasion of my coming; he was insolent; and I informed -him civilly what I thought of him; he demanded satisfaction; and I -replied, that if there was a gentleman in the county that could be -found to act as his friend, I would do him the honour of meeting him. -Business, which one of the two ladies will give you a hint of, if they -have not done so already, calls me immediately to London. I have -written to tell him so, but that I shall be down the day after -to-morrow. In the meantime, I shall tell the people at the White Hart, -if any one comes from him, to refer them to you. Arrange the affair, -therefore, for me, should such be the case, and, remember, the -earliest possible time and the quietest possible manner--I'll bring my -pistols--but we must break off, here comes Sir John Slingsby again; -not a word to him on any account, there's a good fellow; and now let -us talk of something else." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - - -If you fix your eyes upon a distant hill in the month of April, in -some countries, or May in others, there are a thousand chances to one, -unless the goddess of the spring be very much out of humour, that you -see first a golden gleam warm, as the looks of love, and next a deep -blue shadow, calm and grand as the thoughts of high intellect when -passion has passed away with youth. Perhaps the case may be reversed; -the shadow come first and the gleam succeed just as you happen to time -your look; but at all events, you will require no one to tell you--you -will not even need to raise your face to the sky to perceive at once -that the cause of this beautiful variation of hues is the alternate -sunshine and cloud of the spring heavens. - -Over the mind and over the face of man, however, what clouds, what -sunshine, what gleams, what shadows, will not come without any eye but -an all-seeing one being able to trace the causes of the change. Thrice -in one morning was the whole demeanour of Mr. Beauchamp totally -altered. He descended to breakfast grave and thoughtful; an hour after -he was gayer than he had been for years. By the side of Isabella -Slingsby he remained cheerful; but before luncheon was over he had -plunged again into a fit of deep and gloomy thought, and as soon as -Ned Hayward, having taken some food and wine started up to mount his -horse which was at the door, Beauchamp rose also, saying, "I want one -word with you, Hayward, before you go." - -"Directly, directly," answered Ned Hayward. "Goodbye, Sir John, good -bye, Miss Slingsby." - -"Mind--day after to-morrow at the latest, Ned," cried the baronet. - -"Upon my honour," replied Hayward. "Farewell, Mrs. Clifford, I trust I -shall find you here on my return." - -"I fear not, Captain Hayward," replied the lady, "but you have -promised, you know, to come over and--" - -"Nay, dear mamma, I think you will be here," said Mary Clifford, "I -think for once I shall attempt to coax you." - -Mrs. Clifford seemed somewhat surprised at her daughter's eagerness to -stay; but Sir John exclaimed joyously, "There's a good girl--there's a -capital girl, Mary; you are the best little girl in the world; she'll -stay, she'll stay. We'll get up a conspiracy against her. There, be -off, Ned. No long leave-takings. You'll find us all here when you come -back, just as you left us: me, as solemn and severe as usual, my -sister as gay and jovial, Isabella as pensorous, and Mary as merry and -madcap as ever." - -Ned Hayward, however, did not fail to bid Miss Clifford adieu before -he went, and be it remarked, he did it in a somewhat lower tone than -usual, and added a few words more than he had spoken to the rest. -Beauchamp accompanied him to the door, and then pausing near the -horse, inquired in a low tone, "Are you quite certain the man with -whom you had the struggle this morning is the same who fired the shot -last night?" - -"Perfectly," answered Ned Hayward, "for I saw his face quite well in -the sand-pit; and I never forget a face. I wish to Heaven you could -catch him." - -"Have you any idea of his name?" asked Beauchamp. - -"None in the world," replied Ned Hayward; "but there are two people -here who must know, I think. One is young Wittingham, and the other is -Ste Gimlet, otherwise Wolf. I have a strong notion this fellow was one -of those attacking the carriage the other night. But that puts me in -mind, Beauchamp, that I intended to go up and talk to Gimlet, but I -have not time now. I wish you would; and just tell him from me, I will -pay his boy's schooling if he will send him to learn something better -than making bird-traps. You can perhaps find out at the same time who -this fellow is, so it may be worth a walk." - -"I will, I will," answered Beauchamp, "but you said the young ladies -here had something to tell me. What is it?" - -"I thought they had done it," replied Ned Hayward, "that is stupid! -But I have not time now, you must ask them; good bye;" and touching -his horse lightly with his heel, he was soon on his way to Tarningham. - -Beauchamp paused for a moment on the steps in deep meditation, and -then turned into the house, saying to himself, "This must be inquired -into instantly." He found Sir John Slingsby in the luncheon-room, -reading the newspaper, but nobody else, for the ladies had returned to -the drawing-room, and two of them, at least, where looking somewhat -anxiously for his coming. It very rarely happens that any one who is -looked anxiously for ever does come; and of course, in the present -instance, Beauchamp took the natural course and disappointed the two -ladies. - -"I have a message to deliver from Captain Hayward to your new keeper, -Sir John," he said, "and therefore I will walk over to his cottage, -and see him. An hour I dare say will accomplish it." - -"It depends upon legs, my dear Sir," answered the baronet, looking up. -"It would cost my two an hour and a half to go and come; so if I might -advise, you would take four. You will find plenty of hoofs in the -stables, and a groom to show you the way. Thus you will be back the -sooner, and the women will have something to talk to; for I must be -busy--very busy--devilish busy, indeed. I have not done any business -for ten years, the lawyer tells me, so I must work hard to-day. I'll -read the papers, first, however, if Wharton himself stood at the door; -and he is a great deal worse than Satan. I like to hear all the lies -that are going about in the world; and as newspapers were certainly -invented for the propagation of falsehood, one is sure to find all -there. Take a horse, take a horse, Beauchamp. Life is too short to -walk three miles and back to speak with a gamekeeper." - -"Well, Sir John, I will, with many thanks," answered his guest, and in -about a quarter of an hour he was trotting away towards the new -cottage of Stephen Gimlet, with a groom to show him the way. That way -was a very picturesque one, cutting off an angle of the moor and then -winding through wild lanes rich with all sorts of flowers and shrubs, -till at length a small old gray church appeared in view at the side of -a little green. The stone, where the thick ivy hid it not, was -incrusted in many places with yellow, white, and brown lichens, giving -that peculiar rich hue with which nature is so fond of investing old -buildings. There was but one other edifice of any kind in the -neighbourhood, and that was a small cottage of two stories, built -close against one side of the church. Probably it had originally been -the abode of the sexton, and the ivy spreading from the neighbouring -buttress twined round the chimneys, meeting several lower shoots of -the same creeping plant, and enveloped one whole side in a green -mantle. The sunshine was streaming from behind the church, between it -and the cottage, and that ray made the whole scene look cheerful -enough; but yet Beauchamp could not help thinking, "This place, with -its solitary house and lonely church, its little green, and small -fields behind, with their close hedgerows, must look somewhat -desolate in dull weather. Still the house seems a comfortable one, and -there has been care bestowed upon the garden, with its flowers and -herbs. I hope this is Gimlet's cottage; for the very fact of finding -such things in preparation may waken in him different states from -those to which he has been habituated." - -"Here's the place, Sir," said the groom, riding up and touching his -hat, and at the same moment the sound of the horses' feet brought the -rosy, curly-headed urchin of the _ci-devant_ poacher trotting to the -door. - -Beauchamp dismounted and went in; and instantly a loud, yelping bark -was heard from the other side of the front room, where a terrier dog -was tied to the post of a sort of dresser. By the side of the dog was -the figure of the newly-constructed gamekeeper himself, stooping down -and arranging sundry boxes and cages on the ground. - -Now the learned critic has paused on the words "newly-constructed -gamekeeper"--let him not deny it--and has cavilled thereat and -declared them incorrect. But I will defend them: they are neither -there by, and on account of, careless writing or careless printing; -but, well-considered, just, and appropriate, there they stand on the -author's responsibility. I contend he was a newly-constructed -gamekeeper, and out of very curious materials was he constructed, too. - -As soon as he heard Beauchamp's step, Ste Gimlet, raised himself, and -recognising his visitor at once, a well-pleased smile spread over his -face, which the gentleman thought gave great promise for the future. -It is something, as this world goes, to be glad to see one from whom -we have received a benefit. The opposite emotion is more general -unless we expect new favours; a fact of which Beauchamp had been made -aware by some sad experience, and as the man's pleased look was -instantaneous, without a touch of affectation in it, he augured well -for some of the feelings of his heart. - -"Well, Gimlet," said the visitor, "I am happy to see that some of your -stock has been saved, even if all your furniture has perished." - -"Thank you, Sir," replied the other, "my furniture was not worth a -groat. I made most of it myself; but I lost a good many things it -won't be easy to get again. All the dogs that were in the house, but -this one, were burned or choked. He broke his cord and got away. All -my ferrets too, went, but three that were in the shed; and the tame -badger, poor fellow, I found a bit of his skin this morning. I thank -you very much, Sir, for what you gave me, and if you wait five minutes -you'll see what I've done with it. I think it will give you pleasure, -Sir; for I've contrived to get quite enough to set the place out -comfortably, and have something over in case any thing is forgotten." - -Beauchamp liked the man's way of expressing his gratitude by showing -that he appreciated the feelings in which the benefit was conferred. -It was worth a thousand hyperboles. - -"I shall stay some little time, Gimlet," he said, "for I have one or -two things to talk to you about, if you can spare a minute." - -"Certainly, Sir," answered the man in a respectful tone, "but I can't -ask you to sit down, because you see there is no chair." - -"Never mind that," replied Beauchamp, "but what I wished principally -to say is this: my friend, Captain Hayward, takes a good deal of -interest in you and in your boy; and, as he was going to London to-day -he asked me to see you and tell you, that if you like to let the poor -little fellow attend any good school in the neighbourhood he will pay -the expenses. He wished me to point out to you what an advantage it -will be to him to have a good education, and also how much better and -more safe it is for him to be at school while you are absent on your -duty than shut up alone in your house." - -"Whatever that gentleman wishes, Sir, I will do," Gimlet replied, "I -never knew one like him before--I wish I had--but, however, I am bound -to do what he tells me; and even if I did not see and know that what -he says in this matter is good and right, I would do it all the same. -But as for paying, Sir, I hope he won't ask me to let him do that, for -I have now got quite enough and to spare; and although I feel it a -pleasure to be grateful to such a gentleman, yet he can do good -elsewhere with the money." - -"You can settle that with him afterwards, Gimlet," replied Mr. -Beauchamp, "for he is coming back in a day or two; but I now want to -ask you a question which you must answer or not as you think fit. You -were with Captain Hayward, it seems, when he came up with the man who -fired into the window of the hall, and you saw his face, I think?" - -Gimlet nodded his head, saying, "I did Sir." - -"Do you know the man?" asked Beauchamp, fixing his eyes upon him. - -"Yes, Sir," replied the other at once, with the colour coming up into -his face, "but before you go on, just let me say a word. That person -and I were in some sort companions together once, in a matter we had -better have let alone, and I should not like to 'peach." - -"In regard to the attack upon the carriage--to which I know you -allude--I am not about to inquire," replied Beauchamp, "but I will ask -you only one other question, and I promise you, upon my honour, not to -use any thing you tell me against the person. Was his name Moreton?" - -"I won't tell you a lie, Sir," answered Gimlet. "It was, though how -you have found it out I can't guess, for he has been away from this -part of the country for many a year." - -"It matters not," answered Beauchamp, "how I found it out; I know he -has been absent many a year. Can you tell me how long he has -returned?" - -"That I can't say, I'm sure, Sir," replied the man; "but I did hear -that he and the lady have been lodging at Buxton's inn for a day or -two, but not more. It's a great pity to see how he has gone on, and to -sell that fine old place that has been theirs for so many hundred -years! I should think, that if one had any thing worth having that had -been one's father's, one's grandfather's, and one's great -grandfather's, for such a long while, it would keep one straight. It's -mostly when a man has nothing to pride himself upon that he goes -wrong." - -"Not always," answered Beauchamp, "unbridled passion, my good friend, -youth, inexperience, sometimes accident, lead a man to commit a false -step, and that is very difficult to retrieve in his life." - -"Aye, aye, I know that, I know that, Sir," answered Gimlet, "but I -hope not impossible;" and he looked up in Beauchamp's face, with an -expression of doubt and inquiry. - -"By no means impossible," replied the gentleman, "and the man who has -the courage and strength of mind to retrieve a false step, gives a -better assurance to society for his future conduct than perhaps a man -who has never committed one can do." - -Gimlet looked down and meditated for one minute or two, and, though he -did not distinctly express the subject of his contemplation, his -reverie ended with the words, "Well I will try." The next moment he -added, "I don't think, however, that this Captain Moreton will ever -make much of it; for he has been going on now a long while in the same -way, from a boy to a lad, and from a lad to a man. He broke his -father's heart, they say, after having ruined him to pay his debts; -but the worst of it all is, he was always trying to make others as bad -as himself. He did me no good; for when I was a boy and used to go out -and carry his game-bag, he put me up to all manner of things, and that -was the beginning of my liking to what people call poaching. Then, -too, he had a great hand in ruining this young Harry Wittingham. He -taught him to gamble and drink, and a great deal more, when he was a -mere child, I may say." - -"Indeed!" exclaimed Beauchamp, "then the young man is to be pitied -more than blamed." - -"I don't know, Sir, I don't know," answered the gamekeeper; "he's a -bad-hearted fellow. He set fire to my cottage, that's clear enough, -and he knew the boy was in it too; but this business of firing in at -the window I can't make out at all; I should have thought it had been -an accident if he had not afterwards taken a shot at Captain Hayward." - -"I wish to Heaven I could think it was an accident," answered -Beauchamp; "but that is out of the question. They say there are -thoughts of pulling down the old house, if the place is not sold again -very soon. How far is it?" - -"Oh, not three-quarters of a mile from this," replied the gamekeeper. -"Have you never seen it, Sir? It is a fine old place." - -"Yes, I have seen it in former years," said Beauchamp. "Is it in this -parish, then?" - -"Oh yes, Sir, this is the parish church here. They all lie buried in a -vault here, and their monuments are in the aisle; would you like to -see them? The key is always left in this cottage. There they lie, more -than twenty of them--the Moretons, I mean--for you know the man's -father was not a Moreton; he was a brother of the Lord Viscount -Lenham; but, when he married the heiress he took the name of Moreton, -according to her father's will. His tomb is in there, and I think it -runs, 'The Honourable Henry John St. Leger Moreton.' It is a plain -enough tomb for such a fine gentleman as he was; but those of the -Moretons are very handsome, with great figures cut in stone as big as -life." - -"I should like to see them," said Beauchamp, rousing himself from a -reverie. - -"That's easily done," answered the gamekeeper, taking a large key from -a nail driven into the wall, and leading the way to a small side-door -of the church. - -"You tell me he was down here with the lady," said Beauchamp, as the -man was opening the door. "Do you know if he is married?" - -"That I can't say, Sir," answered the man. "He had a lady with him, -and a strange-looking lady, too, with all manner of colours in -her clothes. I saw her three days ago. She must have been a -handsome-looking woman, too, when she was young; but she looks, I -don't know how now." - -Beauchamp tried to make him explain himself; but the man could give no -better description; and, walking on into the church, they passed along -from monument to monument, pausing to read the different inscriptions, -the greater part of which were more intelligible to Beauchamp than his -companion, as many were written in Latin. At length they came to a -small and very plain tablet of modern erection, which bore the name of -the last possessor of the Moreton property; and Beauchamp paused and -gazed at it long, with a very sad and gloomy air. - -There is always something melancholy in contemplating the final -resting-place of the last of a long line. The mind naturally sums up -the hopes gone by, the cherished expectations frustrated, the grandeur -and the brightness passed away; the picture of many generations in -infancy, manhood, decrepitude, with a long train of sports and joys, -and pangs and sufferings, rises like a moving pageant to the eye of -imagination; and the heart draws its own homily from the fate and -history of others. But there seemed something more than this in the -young gentleman's breast. His countenance was stern, as well as sad; -it expressed a bitter gloom, rather than melancholy; and, folding his -arms upon his chest, with a knitted brow, and teeth hard set together, -he gazed upon the tablet in deep silence, till a step in the aisle -behind him startled him; and, turning round, he beheld good Doctor -Miles slowly pacing up the aisle towards him. - -Stephen Gimlet bowed low to the rector, and took a step back; but -Beauchamp did not change his place, though he welcomed his reverend -friend with a smile. - -"I want to speak with you, Stephen," said Doctor Miles, as he -approached; and then, turning towards Beauchamp, he added, "How are -you, my dear Sir? There are some fine monuments here." - -Beauchamp laid his hand upon the clergyman's arm, and, pointing to the -tablet before him, murmured in a low voice; "I have something to say -to you about that, my good friend; I will walk back with you; for I -have long intended to talk to you on several subjects which had better -not be delayed any longer;--I will leave you to speak with this good -man here, if you will join me before the cottage." - -"Oh, you need not go, you need not go," said Doctor Miles, "I have -nothing to say you may not hear.--I wanted to tell you, Stephen," he -continued, turning to the _ci-devant_ poacher, "that I have been down -to-day to Tarningham, and have seen old Mrs. Lamb and her son -William." - -"He's a dear good boy, Sir," said Stephen Gimlet, gazing in the -rector's face, "and he was kind to me, and used to come up and see his -poor sister Mary when nobody else would come near her. That poor -little fellow, all crooked and deformed as he is, has more heart and -soul in him than the whole town of Tarningham." - -"There are more good people in Tarningham and in the world, Stephen, -than you know," answered Doctor Miles, with a sharp look; "you have to -learn, my good friend, that there are natural consequences attached to -every particular line of conduct; and, as you turn a key in a door, -one way to open it, and another way to shut it; so, if your conduct be -good, you open men's hearts towards you; if your conduct be bad, you -close them." - -Stephen Gimlet rubbed his finger on his temple, and answered in a -somewhat bitter, but by no means insolent tone: "It's a very hard -lock, Sir, that of men's hearts; and when once it's shut, the bolt -gets mighty rusty--at least, so I've found it." - -"Stephen! Stephen!"--exclaimed the worthy clergyman, raising -his finger with a monitory and reproachful gesture, "can you say -so.--especially to-day?" - -"No, Sir; no, Sir;" cried Stephen Gimlet, eagerly, "I am wrong; I am -very wrong; butj ust then there came across me the recollection of all -the hard usage I have had for twelve long years, and how it had driven -me from bad to worse--ay! and killed my poor Mary, too; for her father -was very hard; and though he said her marrying me broke his heart, I -am sure he broke hers." - -"You must not brood upon such things, Gimlet," said Doctor Miles. "It -is better, wiser, and more christian, for every man to think of the -share which his own faults have had in shaping his own fate; and, if -he do so coolly and dispassionately, he will find much less blame to -be attributed to others than he is inclined to believe. But do not let -us waste time upon such considerations. I went down to talk to Mrs. -Lamb about you and your boy; I told her what Sir John had done for -you; and the imminent peril of death which the poor child had fallen -into, from being left totally alone, when you are absent. The good old -woman--and pray remark, Stephen, I don't call people good, as the -world generally does, without thinking them so,--was very much -affected and wept a good deal, and in the end she said she was quite -ready to come up and keep house for you, and take care of the child -while you are away." - -The man seemed troubled; for the offer was one which, in many -respects, was pleasant and convenient to him; but there was a bitter -remnant of resentment at the opposition which his unfortunate wife's -parents had shown to her marriage with himself, and at the obstinacy -with which her father had refused all reconciliation, that struggled -against better feelings, and checked any reply upon his lips. Doctor -Miles, however, was an experienced reader of the human heart; and, -when he saw such ulcerations, he generally knew the remedy, and how to -apply it. In this instance he put all evil spirits to flight in a -moment by awakening a better one, in whose presence they could not -stand. - -"The only difficulty with poor Mrs. Lamb seemed to be," he said, after -watching the man's countenance during a momentary pause, "that she is -so poor. She said that you would have enough to do with your money, -and that the little she has, which does not amount to four shillings a -week, would not pay her part of your housekeeping. - -"Oh, if that's all, doctor," cried Stephen Gimlet, "don't let that -stand in the way. My poor Mary's mother shall never want a meal when I -can work for it. I'd find her one any how, if I had to go without -myself. Besides, you know, I am rich now, and I'll take care to keep -all straight, so as not to get poor again. There could not be a -greater pleasure to me, I can assure you, Sir, than to share whatever -I've got with poor Mary's mother, and that dear good boy Bill. Thanks -to this kind gentleman, I've got together a nice little lot of -furniture; and, if the old woman will but bring her bed, we shall do -very well, I'll warrant; and the boy will be taken care of, and go to -the school; and we'll all lead a different sort of life and be quite -happy, I dare say--No, not quite happy! I can never be quite happy any -more, since my poor girl left me; but she is happy, I am sure; and -that's one comfort." - -"The greatest," said Doctor Miles, whose spirit of philanthropy in a -peculiar way was very easily roused, "the greatest, Stephen; and, as -it is by no means impossible, nor, I will say, improbable, both from -the light of natural reason and many passages of Scripture, that the -spirits of the dead are permitted to see the conduct and actions of -those they loved on earth, after the long separation has occurred, -think what a satisfaction it will be to your poor wife, if she can -behold you acting as a son to her mother,--mind, I don't say that such -a thing is by any means certain; I only hint that it is not -impossible, nor altogether improbable, that such a power may exist in -disembodied spirits." - -"I am quite sure it does," said Stephen Gimlet, with calm earnestness; -"I have seen her many a time sitting by the side of the water -under the willow trees, and watching me when I was putting in my -night-lines." - -"I think you are mistaken, Stephen," said Doctor Miles, shaking his -head; "but, at all events, if such a thing be possible, she will now -watch you with more satisfaction, when you are supplying her place in -affection to her mother." - -"I will do my best, Sir," said Stephen Gimlet, "if it be only on that -account." - -"I am sure you will, Stephen," answered the worthy clergyman; "and so, -the first spare moment you have, you had better go down and talk with -Mrs. Lamb.--Now, Mr. Beauchamp, I am ready." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - - -"Well, well, sit down and cheer yourself, Goody Lamb," said Stephen -Gimlet, after an interval of thirty hours--for I must pass over for -the present those other events affecting more important characters in -this tale, which filled up the intervening time in the neighbourhood -of Tarningham--"let bygones be bygones, as they say in the country -where you have lived so much. Here you are, in as comfortable a -cottage as any in the country. I have plenty, and to spare; and, -forgetting all that's past and done, I will try to be a son to you and -a brother to poor Bill." - -"Thank you, Stephen, thank you," said the old woman, to whom he -spoke--a quiet, resigned-looking person, with fine features, and large -dark eyes, undimmed by time, though the hair was as white as snow, the -skin exceedingly wrinkled, and the frame, apparently, enfeebled and -bowed down with sickness, cares, or years; "I am sure you will do what -you can, my poor lad; but still I cannot help feeling a little odd at -having to move again at my time of life. I thought, when I and my poor -husband, Davie Lamb, came up here to Tarningham, out of Scotland, it -was the last time I should have to change. But we can never tell what -may happen to us. I fancied, when I went to Scotland with stiff old -Miss Moreton, that I was to be settled there for life. There I married -Lamb, and thought it less likely than ever that I should change, when, -suddenly, he takes it into his head to come up here to the place where -I was born and brought up, and never told me why or wherefore." - -"Ay, he was a close, hard man," said Stephen Gimlet; "he was not -likely to give reasons to any one; he never did to me, but just said -two or three words, and flung away." - -"He was a kind husband and a kind father," said the widow, "though he -said less than most men, I will acknowledge." - -"He was not kind to his poor, dear girl," muttered Stephen Gimlet, in -a tone which rendered his words scarcely audible; but yet the widow -caught, or divined their sense clearly enough; and she answered: - -"Well, Stephen, don't let us talk about it. There are some things that -you and I cannot well agree upon; and it is better not to speak of -them. Poor Davie's temper was soured by a great many things. People -did not behave to him as well as they ought; and, although I have a -notion they persuaded him to come here, they did not do for him all -they promised." - -"That's likely," answered the _ci-devant_ poacher; "though I have no -occasion to say so, either; for people have done much more for me than -they ever promised, and more than I ever expected. See what good Sir -John Slingsby has done, after I have been taking his game for this -many a year; and Mr. Beauchamp, too--why, it was a twenty-pound note -he gave me, just because he heard that my cottage had been burnt down, -and all the things in it destroyed--but it was all owing to Captain -Hayward, who began it by saving the dear boy's life, that lies -sleeping there in t'other room, and spoke well of me--which nobody -ever took the trouble to do before--and said I was not so bad as I -seemed; and, please God, I'll not give his promises the lie, anyhow." - -"God bless him for a good man," said Widow Lamb: "he is one of the -few, Stephen, whose heart and soul are in doing good." - -"Ay, that he is," answered the gamekeeper; "but I did not know you -knew him, goody." - -"No, I do not know much of him," answered the old lady, "but I know he -has been very kind to my boy Bill; and before he went off for London -t'other day, had a long talk to him, which is better, to my thinking -than the money he gave him--but who is is this Mr. Beauchamp, you say -is such a kind man, too? I've heard Bill talk of him, and he tells me -the same; but I can't well make out about him." - -"Why, he is a friend of Captain Hayward's," rejoined the gamekeeper; -"he has been staying a long while at the White Hart, and just the same -sort of man as the other, though a sadder-looking man, and not so -frank and free." - -"But what looking man is he?" asked the old woman. "You can tell one -what a dog's like, or what a ferret's like, Stephen, well enough; and -I should like to hear about him; for I have a curiosity, somehow." - -"Why, he is a tall man and a strong man," answered Stephen Gimlet, -"with a good deal of darkish hair, not what one would say curling, but -yet not straight, either; and large eyes, in which you can see little -or no white; very bright and sparkling, too. Then he's somewhat pale -and sunburnt; and very plain in his dress, always in dark clothes; but -yet, when one looks at him, one would not like to say a saucy thing to -him; for there is something, I don't know what, in his way and his -look, that, though he is as kind as possible when he speaks, seems to -tell every body, 'I am not an ordinary sort of person.' He never wears -any gloves, that I saw; but, for all that, his hands are as clean as -if they had been washed the minute before, and the wristbands of his -shirt are as white as snow." - -Goody Lamb paused, thoughtfully, and rubbed her forehead once or -twice, under the gray hair: - -"I have seen him, then," she said at length, in a very peculiar tone; -"he has passed my little window more than once--and his name is -Beauchamp is it?" - -"So they say," answered Stephen Gimlet, in some surprise; "why should -it not?" - -"Oh! I don't know," answered the widow; and there she ceased. - -"Well, you are very droll to-night, goody," said Stephen Gimlet; "but -I should like a cup of tea before I go out upon my rounds; so I'll -just get some sticks to make the fire burn; for that kettle does -nothing but simmer." - -Thus saying, he went into the little passage, and out into a small -yard, whence he brought a faggot or two. He then laid them on the hot -embers, blew up a flame, made the kettle boil; and, all this time, not -a word passed between him and Goody Lamb; for both seemed very busy -with thoughts of their own. At length, when a teapot and some cups had -been produced, and a small packet of tea wrapped up in a brown paper, -the old lady sat down to prepare the beverage for her son-in-law, as -the first act of kindly service she rendered him since she had -undertaken to keep his house. To say the truth, it was more for -herself than for him that the tea was made; for Stephen Gimlet did not -like the infusion, and was not accustomed to it; but he knew the good -dame's tastes, and was anxious to make her as comfortable as he could. - -While she was making the tea after her own peculiar fashion--and -almost every one has a mode of his own--Gimlet stood on the other side -of the little deal table and watched her proceedings. At length he -said, somewhat suddenly, "Yes, Mr. Beauchamp was up here, yesterday, -just when Doctor Miles was talking to me, and he asked me a great many -questions about--" and here he paused, thinking he might be violating -some confidence if he mentioned the subject of his visitor's -inquiries. The next instant he concluded his sentence in a different -way from that which he first intended, saying--"about a good many -things; and then he went into the church with me and looked at all the -tombs of the Moretons, and especially that of the last gentleman." - -"Ay, well he might," answered Goody Lamb. - -"Indeed!" exclaimed Stephen Gimlet, with a slight laugh; "then you -seem to know more of him than I do." - -Goody Lamb nodded her head; and her son-in-law proceeded with some -warmth: "Then I am sure you know no harm of him." - -"No, Stephen, no," she said, "I do not! I saw him as a young lad, and -I have not seen him since; but I have not forgotten him; for he came -down to my house--what is called the Grieves-house in Scotland--on the -morning of a day that turned out the heaviest day of his life; and he -was a gay young lad then; and he saw my poor boy, who was then a -little fellow of four years old, that all the folks there used to gibe -at on account of his misfortunes; but this gentleman took him on his -knee and patted his head and was kind to him, and said he was a clever -boy, and gave him a couple of shillings to buy himself a little flute, -because the poor fellow was fond of music even then, and used to -whistle so sweetly, it was enough to break one's heart to hear such -sounds come from such a poor body. The gentleman has never thought of -me or mine since then, I'll warrant, but I have thought of him often -enough; and I'll ask him a question or two someday, please God." - -"The heaviest day in his life," repeated Stephen Gimlet, who had -marked every word she uttered with strong attention; "how was that, -Goody?" - -"Ay," answered Widow Lamb, shaking her head, "as they say in that -country, it is no good talking of all that; so ask me no more -questions, Stephen; but sit down and take your tea, my man, and then -go about your work." - -Stephen Gimlet sat down and, with not the greatest pleasure in the -world, took a cup of the beverage she had prepared; but still he was -very thoughtful; for there was something in Mr. Beauchamp, even in the -grave sadness of his ordinary manner, which created a kind of interest -in a man of a peculiarly imaginative character; and he would have -given a good deal to know all that Widow Lamb could tell, but would -not. He did not choose to question her, however; and, after having -finished a large slice of brown bread, he rose and unfastened the only -dog he had remaining, in order to go out upon his night's round. - -Just at that moment, however, some one tried the latch of the cottage, -and then knocked for admission; and the dog, springing forward, -growled, barked, and snarled furiously. - -The gamekeeper chid him back, and then opened the door, when, to his -surprise, he saw the figure of young Harry Wittingham before him. The -dog sprang forward again, as if he would have torn the visitor to -pieces; and, to say the truth, Stephen Gimlet felt a great inclination -to let the beast have his way; but, after a moment's thought, he drove -it back again, saying, with a bitter laugh, - -"The beast knows the danger of letting you in. What do you want with -me, Sir?" - -"I want you to do me a great service, Ste," said Harry Wittingham, -with a familiar and friendly air; "and I am sure you will, if--" - -"No, I won't," answered Stephen Gimlet, "if it were to save you from -hanging, I would not put my foot over that doorstep. It is no use -talking, Mr. Wittingham; I will have nothing more to do with any of -your tricks. I don't wish ever to see you again; I am in a new way of -life, and it won't do, I can tell you." - -"Oh, I have heard all about that," answered the young man, in a light -tone; "and, moreover, that you have taken a silly fancy into your -head, that I set fire to your cottage. It is all nonsense, upon my -word. Your boy must have done it, playing with the fire that was on -the hearth." - -Stephen Gimlet's face turned somewhat pale with the effort to keep -down the anger that was in his heart; but he replied shortly and -quickly, for fear it should burst forth: - -"The boy had no fire to play with--you knew well he was locked up in -the bedroom, and there he was found, when you burned the place down." - -"Well, if I had any hand in it," said young Wittingham, "it must have -been a mere accident." - -"Ay, when you knew there was a poor helpless child in the house," said -Stephen Gimlet, bitterly, "it was a sort of accident which well-nigh -deserved hanging." - -"Nonsense, nonsense, my good fellow," said the young man, "you are -angry about nothing; and though you have got a good place, I dare say -you are not a man to refuse a couple of guineas when they are offered -to you." - -"If you offer them," cried Stephen Gimlet, furiously, "I'll throw them -in your face--an accident, indeed! to burn my cottage, and nearly my -poor child! I suppose it was by accident that you stopped the carriage -in the lane? And by accident that you set a man to fire at your own -father through the window?" - -"Hush, hush, Stephen," cried Widow Lamb, catching hold of his coat and -attempting to keep him back, as he took a step towards Harry -Wittingham, who turned very pale. - -The young man recovered his audacity the next moment, however, and -exclaimed: - -"Pooh! let him alone, good woman; if he thinks to bully me, he is -mistaken." - -"Get out of this house," cried Stephen Gimlet, advancing close to him. -"Get out of this house, without another word, or I'll break your -neck!" - -"You are a fool," answered young Wittingham; "and, if you don't mind, -I'll send you to Botany Bay." - -The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when Stephen Gimlet aimed a -straight blow at him with his right hand, which was immediately -parried; for the young vagabond was not unskilful in the science of -defence; but, the next instant, the gamekeeper's left told with -stunning effect in the midst of his face, and he fell prostrate, with -his head out of the doorway and his feet within. Stephen Gimlet looked -at him for a moment, then, stooping down, lifted him in his strong -arms, pitched him headlong out, and shut the door. - -"There!" said Gimlet;--"now I'll sit down for a minute and get cool." - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - - -We will go back, if it pleases the reader; for fortunately, it -happens, that, in a work of this character, one can go back. Oh, how -often in human life is it to be wished, that we could do the same! -What deeds, done amiss, would then be rectified! What mistakes in -thought, in conduct, in language, would then be corrected! What evils -for the future avoided! What false steps would be turned back! What -moral bonds shackling our whole being, would not then be broken! I do -believe, that, if any man would take any hour out of any period of his -life, and look at it with a calm, impartial, unprejudiced eye, he -would feel a longing to turn back and change something therein: he -would wish to say more, than he had said--or less--to say it in a -different tone--with a different look--or he would have acted -differently--he would have yielded--or resisted--or listened--or -refused to listen--he would wish to have exerted himself -energetically--or to have remained passive--or to have meditated ere -he acted--or considered something he had forgotten--or attended to the -small, still voice in his heart, when he had shut his ears. Something, -something, he ever would have altered in the past! But, alas! the past -is the only reality of life, unchangeable, irretrievable, -indestructible; we can neither mould it, nor recall it, nor wipe it -out. There it stands for ever: the rock of adamant, up whose steep -side we can hew no backward path. - -We will turn back to where we left Doctor Miles and Beauchamp. Issuing -forth from the church, and, passing round Stephen Gimlet's cottage, -they found the worthy clergyman's little phaeton standing by the two -horses which Beauchamp had brought from Tarningham Park. Orders were -given for the four-wheeled and four-footed things to follow slowly; -and the two gentlemen walked forward on foot, the younger putting his -hand lightly through the arm of the elder, as a man does, when he -wishes to bespeak attention to what he is going to say. - -"I have been looking at those monuments with some interest, my dear -doctor," said Beauchamp, after they had taken about twenty steps in -advance; "and now I am going to make you, in some degree, what, I dare -say, as a good Protestant divine, you never expected to become--my -father-confessor. There are several things, upon which I much wish to -consult you, as I have great need of a good and fair opinion and -advice." - -"The best that it is in my power to give, you shall have, my young -friend," answered Doctor Miles; "not that I expect you to take my -advice, either; for I never yet, in the course of a long life, knew -above two men, who did take advice, when it was given. But that is not -always the fault of the giver; and, therefore, mine is ever ready, -when it is asked. What is it you have to say?" - -"More, I fear, than can be well said in one conversation," answered -Beauchamp; "but I had better begin and tell a part, premising, that it -is under the seal of confession, and therefore----" - -"Shall be as much your own secret, as if it had not been given to me," -said Doctor Miles; "go on." - -"Well, then, for one part of the story," said Beauchamp, with a smile -at his old companion's abruptness; "in the first place, my dear -doctor, I am, in some sort, an impostor; and our mutual friend, -Stanhope, has aided the cheat." - -Doctor Miles turned round sharply, and looked in his face for a -moment; then nodded his head, as he saw there was no appearance of -shame in the expression, and gazed straightforward again, without -saying a word. - -"To make the matter short, my good friend," continued his companion, -"my name is not Beauchamp at all, nor any thing the least like it." - -"_Nom de guerre_," said Doctor Miles; "pray, what may the war be -about?" - -"Of that hereafter," said Beauchamp--"for I shall still continue to -call him by the name which he repudiated. You have seen, that I have -been somewhat anxious to purchase this Moreton Hall property, and am -still anxious to do so, though I have received a little bit of news on -that subject to-day, which may make me very cautious about the -examination of titles, &c. This intelligence is, that the ostensible -proprietor is not the real one; your acquaintance, Mr. Wharton, having -become virtually possessed of the property, perhaps, by not the -fairest means." - -"Humph!" said Doctor Miles; but he added nothing further, and -Beauchamp went on. - -"Poor Mr. St. Leger Moreton," he said, "was by no means a man of -business, an easy, kind-hearted, somewhat too sensitive person." - -"I know, I know," answered Doctor Miles, "I was well acquainted with -him; and if ever man died of a broken heart, which is by no means so -unusual an occurrence as people suppose, he did so." - -"I believe it," answered Beauchamp; "but, at all events, he was not a -man, as you must know, to ascertain, that he was dealt fairly by. His -son, I am sorry to say, was willing to do any thing for ready money--I -say any thing, for I do not know that act to which he would not have -recourse for any object that he sought to gain." - -"You seem to know them all thoroughly," said Doctor Miles, drily; and -he then added in a warmer tone, "I will tell you what, my dear Sir, -this Captain Moreton is one of those men who make us ashamed of human -nature. Born to a fine estate, the son of an excellent woman and -amiable man, though a weak one, he went on corrupting himself and -every one else, from boyhood to youth, and from youth to manhood. He -is the only man I have ever known without one principle of any kind, -or one redeeming point. There is but one thing to be said in his -excuse, namely, that his great aunt, old Miss Moreton, who went to -Scotland, and left him a small property there of about a thousand a -year, which he dissipated totally in eleven weeks after he got it, -spoiled him from his infancy, pampered, indulged, encouraged him in -the most frightful manner. Even his vices became virtues in her eyes; -so that there is not much marvel that he became a gambler, a -_débauchée_, a duellist, and a scoundrel. People may consider that his -courage and his talents were redeeming qualities, but I look upon them -as none. They were only energies, which carried him on to deeper -wickedness and infamy. He is now, I believe, a common sharper and -swindler." - -"I have let you go on, doctor," said Beauchamp, "because you have not -said one word that is not just; but yet I must tell you, that this -gentleman is my first cousin, and, unfortunately, heir to my estates -and name." - -Doctor Miles halted suddenly, and looked at his companion with some -surprise. - -"This takes me unprepared," he said; "I never heard of his having more -than one cousin, namely, the present Lord Lenham; and he, I -understood, was travelling in India for pleasure--a curious place to -go for pleasure--but all men have their whims." - -"It was not exactly a whim that led me thither, my dear doctor," said -Beauchamp; "from the time I was twenty-one years of age up to the -present hour, I have been a wanderer over the face of the earth, -expiating in bitterness of heart one early error. I have not time now, -and, I may say also, I have not spirits at the present moment to enter -into the long detail of my past history. Let it suffice for the -present to say, that a species of persecution, very difficult to avoid -or bear, made me for many years a stranger to my native country. I -visited every part of Europe and America, and then thought I would -travel in the East, visiting scenes full of interest both from their -novelty, in some respects, and from the vast antiquity to which their -history and many of their monuments go back. As I found that all my -movements were watched for the purpose of subjecting me to annoyance, -I thought my residence in India a favourable opportunity for dropping -my title and assuming another name, and have ever since gone by that -of Beauchamp. During these wanderings my income has far exceeded my -expenditure; a large sum of money has accumulated, and, on my return -to England, I was advised to invest it in land. My attention was first -directed to this estate, which I am desirous of purchasing, by finding -a letter at my agents from my cousin Captain Moreton, expressing great -penitence for all that has passed, professing a desire to retrieve his -errors, lamenting the loss of the family property, and asking for a -loan of five thousand pounds. - -"I hope you did not give it him," cried Doctor Miles. "His penitence -is all feigned; his reformation false; the money would go at the -gambling-table in a week. I am not uncharitable in saying so, for I -have had the opportunity of ascertaining within this month, that the -man is the same as ever." - -"So I found on making inquiries," rejoined Beauchamp, "and -consequently I refused decidedly. This refusal brought a most insolent -and abusive letter, of which I took no notice; but having received -intimation that the man is married, I made up my mind to the following -course: to purchase this property, and, if he have any children, to -make it the condition of my giving him pecuniary assistance, that he -shall give up one of them to be educated entirely by myself. Having -insured that all shall be done to make that child a worthy member of -society, I would settle the Moreton estate upon it, and thus, at all -events, leave one of my name in a situation to do honour to it." - -"A kind plan, and a good one," said Doctor Miles; "but yet people will -call it a whimsical one, and wonder that you do not marry yourself and -transmit your property and name to children of your own." - -A bright and cheerful smile came upon Beauchamp's face. - -"Hitherto, my dear doctor," he said, "that has been impossible. The -obstacles, however, are now removed--at least, I believe so; and, -perhaps, some day I may follow the course you suggest, but that will -make no difference in regard to my intention. If I have children of my -own, they will have more than enough for happiness, and having -conceived a scheme of this kind, I never like to abandon it. I will -therefore purchase this property, if it can be ascertained that Mr. -Wharton's title is perfectly clear; but perhaps you, as the clergyman -of two parishes here, can obtain proofs for me, that all the -collateral heirs to the estate, under the entail made by Sir Charles -Moreton, are extinct beyond all doubt. Under those circumstances, the -sale by my uncle and his son would be valid." - -"Wharton would not have bought it without he was sure," said Doctor -Miles. - -"The sum actually paid was very small," replied Beauchamp, in a -peculiar tone, "all the rest went to cover a debt, real or pretended, -of Mr. Wharton's own, but here we are at the gates of the park, and so -I must bring our conference to an end. To-morrow or the next day I -will tell you more of my personal history, for there are other -subjects on which I must consult you. Do you know who this is riding -up so fast?" - -"A fool," said Doctor Miles; and almost as he spoke, a young, -fresh-coloured man, dressed in a green coat and leather breeches, and -mounted on a splendid horse, with a servant behind him, cantered up, -and sprang to the ground. - -"I don't know--ah--whether I have the honour of speaking to Mr. -Beauchamp--ah," he said, in a self-sufficient tone. - -Beauchamp bowed his head, saying, "The same, Sir." - -"Then, Sir--ah--my name is Granty--ah--and you see--ah--I have -been referred to you--ah--as the friend of a certain Captain -Hayward--ah--in reference to a little affair--ah--between him and my -friend Harry Wittingham--ah--whom he threatened to horsewhip--ah." - -"If he threatened," answered Beauchamp, in a calm tone, "he is a very -likely man to fulfil his words--but I think, Sir, we had better speak -upon this subject alone, as Captain Hayward has put me in possession -of his views. This is my friend, Doctor Miles, a clergyman." - -"Oh, yes, I know Doctor Miles--ah," said Mr. Granty, "a very good -fellow, aren't you, Miles--ah?" - -"No, Sir, I am not," answered Doctor Miles; "but now, Mr. Beauchamp, I -will leave you, as you seem to have some pleasant conversation before -you;" and shaking Mr. Beauchamp by the hand without any further -apparent notice of what he had heard, Doctor Miles walked to the side -of his carriage and got in, honouring Mr. Granty with the sort of -cold, stiff bow that a poker might be supposed to make if it were -taught to dance a minuet. But Doctor Miles had noticed all that had -passed, and did not forget it. - -And now, dear reader, we will put our horses into a quicker pace, leap -over all the further conversation between Mr. Beauchamp and Mr. -Granty, and also an intervening space of two days, merely premising -that, during that period, from a great number of knots on the tangled -string of events, neither Mary Clifford nor Isabella Slingsby had any -opportunity of speaking to Mr. Beauchamp for more than two minutes in -private. Those two minutes were employed by Miss Clifford, to whose -lot they fell, in telling him, with a hesitating and varying colour, -that she very much wished for a short conversation with him. Beauchamp -was surprised, but he answered with courtesy and kindness, and wished -her to proceed at once. Sir John Slingsby was upon them the next -moment, however, and the matter was deferred. - -Thus went the two days I have mentioned, but on the morning of the -third, just about half-past five, when every body but skylarks are -supposed to be asleep, Mr. Beauchamp and our friend Ned Hayward -entered the small meadow just under the trees by the palings of -Tarningham Park, on the side next to Tarningham, near the spot where -the river issued forth into the fields on its onward progress. They -were followed by a man, carrying a mahogany case, bound with brass, -and a gentleman in a black coat, with a surgical air about him; for -strange human nature seldom goes out to make a hole in another piece -of human nature, without taking precautions for mending it as soon as -made. - -Beauchamp took out his watch and satisfied himself that they were to -their time, spoke a few words to the surgeon, unlocked the mahogany -box, looked at some of the things it contained, and then walked up and -down the field with Ned Hayward for a quarter of an hour. - -"This is too bad, Hayward," he said, at length; "I think we might very -well now retire." - -"No, no," said Hayward, "give him law enough, one can never tell what -may stop a man. He shall have another quarter of an hour. Then if he -does not come, he shall have the horsewhipping." - -Ten minutes more passed, and then two other gentlemen entered the -field, with a follower, coming up at a quick pace, and with heated -brows. - -"Beg pardon, gentlemen--ah," said Mr. Granty, advancing; "but we have -had the devil's own work--ah--to get the tools--ah. My friend -Wittingham was knocked down by a fellow--ah--that he was sending for -cash, so that I had to furnish--ah--" - -"Never mind all this," said Beauchamp, "you are now here, though you -have kept my friend waiting. We had better proceed to business at -once, as I have had a hint that from a slight indiscretion on your -part, Sir, in mentioning this matter before a clergyman, inquiries -have been made which may produce inconvenient results." - -Mr. Granty was somewhat nettled; but neither Beauchamp nor Hayward -attended to any of his 'ahs;' the ground was measured, the pistols -loaded, the two gentlemen placed on their ground, and then came the -unpleasant "one--two--three." Both fired instantly, and the next -moment Harry Wittingham reeled and dropped. Beauchamp thought he saw -Ned Hayward waver slightly, more as if the pistol had recoiled -violently in his hand than any thing else; but, as soon as his -antagonist fell, the young officer ran up to him, stooped and raised -his head. - -The surgeon came up directly and opened the wounded man's coat and -waistcoat as he lay with his face as pale as ashes. At the same -moment, however, there was a cry of "Hie, hie," and turning round, -Beauchamp saw the poor little pot-boy, Billy Lamb, scampering across -the field as hard as he could go. - -"Run, run," cried the boy; "there are the magistrates and the -constables all coming up--run over by the style there; I brought the -chaise to the end of the lane. - -"I can't go," said Ned Hayward, "till I hear what is to come of this." - -"You had better go," said the surgeon, looking up; "it does not seem to -me to be dangerous, but you may get into prison if you stay. No, it -has shattered the rib, but passed round. He will do well, I think. -Run, run; I can see the people coming." - -Beauchamp took Ned Hayward's arm and drew him away. In two minutes -they had reached the chaise and were rolling on; but then Ned Hayward -leaned back somewhat languidly, and said, - -"I wish, Beauchamp, you would just tie your handkerchief tight round -my shoulder here, for it is bleeding more than I thought, and I feel -sickish." - -"Good Heavens! are you hurt?" exclaimed Beauchamp, and opening his -waistcoat, he saw that the whole right side of his shirt was steeped -in blood. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - - -I do believe, from my very heart and soul, that there is not the -slightest possible good in attempting to write a book regularly. I say -with prime ministers and maid-servants, with philosophers and fools, -"I've tried it, and surely I ought to know." It may be objected that -the result entirely depends upon the way in which a thing is tried, -and that a very simple experiment would fail or might fail in the -hands of a fool or a maid-servant, which would succeed in those of a -prime minister or a philosopher. Nevertheless, it is true that critics -make rules which life will not conform to. Art says one thing, nature -another; and, in such a case, a fig for art! Art may teach us how to -embellish nature, or show us what to portray. - -"Do not be continually changing the scene," says the critic, "do not -run from character to character; introduce no personage who does not -tend to bring about some result;" but in the course of human events -the scene is always shifting; the characters which pass before our -eyes, cross and return at every instant, and innumerable personages -flit before us like shadows over a glass, leaving no trace of their -having been. Others, indeed, appear for an instant not only on the -limited stage of domestic life, but often on the great scene of the -world, act their appointed part, produce some particular effect, and -then like those strange visitants of our system, the comets, rush back -into the depths from which they emerged but for an hour. - -All this has been written to prove that it is perfectly right and -judicious that I should introduce my beloved reader into the study of -Mr. Wharton, or rather Abraham Wharton, Esq., solicitor, and -attorney-at-law. Mr. Wharton was a small, spare, narrow man, of a -tolerably gentlemanlike figure; and, to look at his back, one of those -prepossessions which lead us all by the nose, made one believe that -his face must be a thin, sharp, foxlike face, probably with a dark -black beard, closely shaved, making the muzzle look blue. - -On getting round in front, however, the surprise of the new -acquaintance was great to see a red and blotchy countenance, with -sharp black eyes, and very little beard at all. There was generally a -secret simper upon his lips intended to be courteous, but that simper, -like an exchequer bill, was very easily convertible, and a poor -client, an inferior solicitor on the opposite side, or an unready -debtor, soon found that it would be changed into heavy frowns or -sarcastic grins. - -Mr. Wharton was very proper and accurate in his dress. His coat was -always black,--even when he went out to hunt, which was not a rare -occurrence, he never sported the red jacket. In riding, he would -occasionally indulge in leather, elsewhere than from the knee -downwards; but the habiliment of the lower man was, upon all ordinary -occasions, a pair of dark gray pantaloons. He was now so habited in -his study, as he called the room behind that where seven clerks were -seated, for the business he was engaged in was one in the ordinary -course, though of extraordinary interest to Mr. Wharton. It was, in -short, the consummation of plucking a poor bird which had been -entrapped long before. Now it was not intended to leave him a feather, -and yet Mr. Wharton was inclined to do the thing as decorously as -possible. By decorously I do not mean tenderly--such an unnecessary -delicacy never entered into Mr. Wharton's head. The decorum that he -thought of was merely _the seeming in the world's eyes_, as a great -deal of other decorum is, both male and female. He was about to be as -hard, as relentless, as iron-hearted as a cannon-ball, but all with -infinite professions of kindness and good feeling, and sorrow for the -painful necessity, &c. &c. &c., for Mr. Wharton followed Dr. -Kitchener's barbarous recipe for devouring oysters, and "tickled his -little favourites before he ate them." - -The lawyer was standing at a table with some papers before him--not -too many--for he was not like those bankrupt attorneys of the capital -who fill their rooms with brown tin cases, marked in large white -letters "House of Lords," he preferred as little show of business as -possible. His object now-a-days was not to get practice, but to make -money. Practice enough he had; too much for the common weal. - -A clerk--a sort of private secretary indeed--was sitting at the other -end of the table, and the two had discussed one or two less important -affairs, affecting a few hundred pounds, when Mr. Wharton at length -observed, "I think to-morrow is the last day with Sir John Slingsby, -Mr. Pilkington, is it not?" - -He knew quite well that it was; but, it would seem, he wished to hear -his clerk's opinion upon the subject. - -"Yes, Sir," answered Mr. Pilkington, "I don't see a chance for him." - -"Nor I either," answered Mr. Wharton; "I am afraid he is quite run -out, poor man. The six months' notice of fore-closure was all right, -and the interest now amounts to a large sum." - -"A very large sum indeed, Sir, with the costs," answered Mr. -Pilkington; "you don't think, Sir, he'll attempt to revise the costs -or haggle about the interest." - -"He can't, Mr. Pilkington," replied Mr. Wharton, drily, "the costs are -all secured by bond and accounts passed, and it was a client of mine -who advanced him the money at seven-and-a-half to pay the interest -every six months on my mortgage. I had nothing to do with the -transaction." - -Mr. Pilkington smiled, and Mr. Wharton proceeded. - -"Why you know quite well, Pilkington, that it was Dyer who advanced -the money, and his bankruptcy brought the bonds into my hands." - -"I thought there was only one bond, Sir," answered Mr. Pilkington; -"you told me to have a fresh bond every six months for the running -interest and the arrears, and the interest upon former advances, to -guard against loss." - -Mr. Wharton now smiled and nodded his head, saying, for he was vain of -his shrewdness, and vanity is a weak passion, "True, true, Pilkington, -but last half-year I saw that things were coming to a close, and -therefore thought it better to have two bonds. It looks more regular, -though the other is the most convenient mode." - -"And besides it secures the interest on the last half-year's -interest," said Pilkington; but to this observation Mr. Wharton made -no reply, turning to another part of the same subject. - -"Just bid Raymond to step down to Mr. Wittingham's," said the lawyer, -"and tell him with my compliments I should be glad to speak with him -for a minute. I must give him a hint of what is going on." - -"Why, Sir," said Mr. Pilkington, hesitating "you know he has a bond -too, out on the same day, and he'll be sure to go before you, having -also a bill of sale." - -"I know, I know," answered Mr. Wharton, "but I should like him to be -the first, Pilkington." - -"Will there be enough to cover all?" asked the clerk, doubtfully. - -"Ample," answered his great man; "besides, the whole sum coming -thundering down at once will ensure that no one will be fool enough to -help. I have heard, indeed, something about a friend who would advance -money to pay Wittingham's bond. Let him!--all the better, that cannot -supersede my debt. Wittingham will get his money, and Sir John won't -easily find much more on any security he has to offer. Besides, when -some one begins, it gives the very best reason for others going on, -and Wittingham won't be slow, depend upon it. Tell Mr. Raymond to -fetch him." - -The clerk retired, not venturing to urge any more objections; but when -he returned again, Mr. Wharton himself continued the conversation -thus, - -"Wittingham is a curious person to deal with; one does not always know -what can be his objects." - -Mr. Wharton had always an object himself, and, therefore, he fancied -that no man could act without one. He never took the impulse of -passion, or the misdirection of folly, or the pigheadedness of -obstinacy into account. However, with Mr. Wittingham he was in some -degree right, as to his generally having an object; but he was in some -degree wrong also, for all the other causes of human wrong-going, -passion, folly, and pigheadedness, had their share in the modes, -methods, and contrivances by which the worthy magistrate sought his -ends. - -"Now, what can be the meaning," continued Mr. Wharton, "of his -opposing so strongly all steps against this Mr. Beauchamp and that -Captain Hayward, who were engaged in the duel with his son?" - -"They say he had quarrelled with Harry Wittingham and disinherited -him," replied the clerk; "and old Mrs. Billiter, the housekeeper, is -quite furious about it. She declares that it is all old Wittingham's -fault; that if it had not been for him, nothing of the kind would have -happened; and that he murdered the young man. I do not know what it -all means; but they say she will nurse Harry Wittingham through it -after all." - -Mr. Wharton mused for a minute or two, and then said, - -"You do not mean, he is out of danger?" - -"Oh dear, no, Sir," answered Mr. Pilkington, who perceived a slightly -dissatisfied twang in his superior's question; "Mr. Slattery, the -surgeon, said he might sink at anytime for the next ten days." - -"Humph," said Mr. Wharton, "that is all right. It will keep the others -out of the way for some time to come; and a very good thing, too, for -Mr. Beauchamp himself. He it is who is treating for the Moreton Hall -estate; there is a little hitch in the business, which will be soon -removed; but he seems to me just the sort of man who would take Sir -John Slingsby's mortgage as an investment, as soon as the other. At -all events, he might create difficulties in a business which had -better be settled as soon as possible for all parties, and might burn -his own fingers, poor man, into the bargain. You had the bills posted -up, Pilkington?" - -"Oh, yes, Sir," replied the clerk, "for twenty miles round, offering a -reward. There is no fear, Sir. They are safe enough--most likely in -France by this time." - -Mr. Wharton seemed satisfied; and, after a few minutes, worthy Mr. -Wittingham entered the office, and was thence ushered into the study; -but, alas! it was no longer the Mr. Wittingham of former days. The -somewhat fresh complexion; the stiff, consequential carriage; the -vulgar swagger, were all gone; and Mr. Wittingham looked a very sick -old gentleman, indeed; weak in the knees, bent in the back, and sallow -in the face. The wig was ill-adjusted, the Melton coat a world too -wide; you could have put a finger between the knee-bands of the -breeches and the stockings; and the top-boots slipped down almost to -the ancles. It was marvellous how one who had been so tall and thin -before, could have become, to the eye, so much taller and thinner. The -great Prince of Parma, wrote despatches, reviewed troops, and -conducted a negotiation, within one hour before a long and lingering -malady terminated in death. He knew he was dying, and yet went through -all his ordinary business, as if he had only to dress and go out to a -party instead of into his grave. This was a wonderful instance of the -persistence of character under bodily infirmity, or rather of its -triumph over corporeal decay. But that of Mr. Wittingham was more -remarkable. The external Wittingham was wofully changed: his oldest -friend would not have known him; but the internal Wittingham was still -the same; there was not a tittle of difference. He was not in the -least softened, he was not in the least brightened: his was one of -those granite natures, hard to cut, and impossible to polish. Although -he had very little of the diamond in him, yet, as the diamond can only -be shaped by the powder of the diamond, nothing but Wittingham could -touch Wittingham. His own selfishness was the only means by which he -was accessible. - -"Ah, Mr. Wharton," he said, "you sent for me; what is in the wind now? -Not about these two young men any more, I trust. That account is -closed. I will have nothing to do with it. Henry Wittingham called out -this Captain Hayward; Captain Hayward was fool enough to go out with -Henry Wittingham. They each had a shot, and the balance struck was a -pistol-ball against Henry Wittingham. Perhaps, if all the items had -been reckoned, the account might have been heavier, but I am not going -to open the books again, I should not find any thing to the credit of -my son, depend upon it." - -"Oh, no, my good friend," said Mr. Wharton, in the most amiable tone -possible; "I knew the subject was disagreeable to you, and therefore -never returned to the business again. The other magistrates did what -they thought their duty required, in offering a reward, &c., but as -you had a delicacy in meddling where your son was concerned, the -matter was not pressed upon you." - -"Delicacy! fiddlesticks' ends!" retorted Mr. Wittingham. "I never had -a delicacy in my life!--I did not choose! That is the proper word. But -if it was not about this, why did you send for me?" - -"Why, my dear Sir," said Mr. Wharton, "I thought it due in honour to -give you a hint--as I know you are a large creditor of Sir John -Slingsby--that matters are not going altogether well there." - -"I have known that these six years," answered the magistrate; "honour, -indeed! You have a great deal to do with honour, and delicacy, and all -that; but I am a man of business, and look to things as matters of -business. Speak more plainly, Wharton, what is there going worse than -usual at the Park? Does he want to borrow more money? - -"He did a fortnight ago, and could not get it," replied Mr. Wharton, -drily; for the most impudent rogue in the world does not like to feel -himself thoroughly understood. "But the short and the long of the -matter is this, my good Sir:--Sir John can go on no longer. Six -months' notice of fore-closure is out tomorrow; other steps must be -taken immediately; large arrears of interest are due; two or three -bonds with judgment are hanging over our poor friend; and you had -better look after yourself." - -"Well, well, there is time enough yet," said Mr. Wittingham, in a much -less business-like tone than Mr. Wharton expected; "the preliminaries -of the law are somewhat lengthy, Mr. Wharton? _fi-fas_ and _ca-sas_ -take some time; and I will think of the matter." - -"As you please, my good friend," answered Wharton; "only just let me -hint, that all the preliminaries have been already gone through. An -execution will be put in early to-morrow; there are a good many -creditors, and there may be a sort of scramble, as the school-boys -have it, where the quickest runner gets the biggest nut. I thought it -but kind and fair to tell you, as a neighbour and a friend, especially -as your debt is no trifle, I think." - -"An execution early to-morrow!" exclaimed Mr. Wittingham; "won't the -estate pay all?" - -"About two-thirds, I imagine," said Wharton, telling, as was his wont, -a great lie with the coolest face possible. - -"And what will Sir John do?" said the magistrate, "and poor Miss -Slingsby?" - -"I am afraid we must touch Sir John's person," replied the lawyer, -with a sneer; "and as to poor Miss Slingsby, I see nothing for it, but -that she should go out as a governess. But do not let us talk -nonsense, Wittingham. You are a man of sense and of business. I have -given you a caution, and you will act upon it. That is all I have to -do with the matter." - -To Mr. Wharton's surprise, however, he did not find Mr. Wittingham so -ready to act in the way he hinted as had been anticipated. The old -gentleman hesitated, and doubted, and seemed so uneasy that the -solicitor began to fear he had mistaken his character totally, to -apprehend that, after all, he might be a kind-hearted, benevolent old -gentleman. The reader, however, who has duly remarked the conversation -between the magistrate on his sick-bed, and worthy Dr. Miles, may, -perhaps, perceive other causes for Mr. Wittingham's hesitation. He had -found that Sir John Slingsby possessed a secret which might hang his -son. Now, although I do not mean at all to say that Mr. Wittingham -wished his son to die, in any way, or that he would not have been -somewhat sorry for his death, by any means, yet he would have much -preferred that the means were not those of strangulation. To have his -son hanged, would be to have his own consideration hanged. In short, -he did not at all wish to be the father of a man who had been hanged; -and consequently he was somewhat afraid of driving Sir John Slingsby -into a corner. But each man, as Pope well knew, has some ruling -passion, which is strong even in death. Sir John Slingsby owed Mr. -Wittingham five thousand pounds; and Mr. Wittingham could not forget -that fact. As he thought of it, it increased, swelled out, grew heavy, -like a nightmare. To lose five thousand pounds at one blow! What was -any other consideration to that? What was the whole Newgate-calendar, -arranged as a genealogical tree and appended to his name either as -ancestry or posterity? Nothing, nothing! Dust in the balance! A -feather in an air-pump! Mr. Wittingham grew exceedingly civil to his -kind friend, Mr. Wharton; he compassionated poor Sir John Slingsby -very much; he was sorry for Miss Slingsby; but he did not in the least -see why, when other people were about to help themselves, he should -not have his just right. He chatted over the matter with Mr. Wharton, -and obtained an opinion from him, without a fee, as to the best mode -of proceeding--and Mr. Wharton's opinions on such points were very -sound; but in this case particularly careful. Then Mr. Wittingham went -home, sent for his worthy solicitor, Mr. Bacon, whom he had employed -for many years, as cheaper and safer than Mr. Wharton, and gave him -instructions, which set the poor little attorney's hair on end. - -Mr. Bacon knew Mr. Wittingham, however; he had been accustomed to -manage him at petty sessions; and he was well aware that it was -necessary to set Mr. Wittingham in opposition to Mr. Wittingham, -before he could hope that any one's opinion would be listened to. When -those two respectable persons had a dispute together, there was some -chance of a third being attended to who stepped in as an umpire. - -But, in the present case, Mr. Bacon was mistaken. He did not say one -word of the pity, and the shame, and the disgrace of taking Sir John -Slingsby quite by surprise; but he started various legal difficulties, -and, indeed, some formidable obstacles to the very summary proceedings -which Mr. Wittingham contemplated. But that gentleman was as a gun -loaded with excellent powder and well-crammed down shot, by Mr. -Wharton; and the priming was dry and fresh. Mr. Bacon's difficulties -were swept away in a moment; his obstacles leaped over; and the -solicitor was astonished at the amount of technical knowledge which -his client had obtained in a few hours. - -There was nothing to be done but obey. Mr. Wittingham was too good a -card to throw out: Sir John Slingsby was evidently ruined beyond -redemption; and with a sorrowful heart--for Mr. Bacon was, at bottom, -a kind and well-disposed man--he took his way to his office with -his eyes roaming from one side of the street to the other, as if he -were looking for some means of escaping from a disagreeable task. -As they thus roamed, they fell upon Billy Lamb, the little deformed -pot-boy. The lawyer eyed him for a minute or so as he walked along, -compared him in imagination with one of his own clerks, a tall, -handsome-looking fellow, with a simpering face; thought that Billy -would do best, though he was much more like a wet capon, than a human -being, and beckoning the boy into his office, retired with him into an -inner room, where Mr. Bacon proceeded so cautiously and diffidently, -that, had not Billy Lamb's wits been as sharp as his face, he would -have been puzzled to know what the solicitor wanted him to do. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -It was a dark, cold, cheerless night, though the season was summer, -and the preceding week had been very warm--one of those nights when a -cold cutting north-east wind has suddenly broken through the sweet -dream of bright days, and checked the blood in the trees and plants, -withering them with the presage of winter. From noon till eventide -that wind had blown; and although it had died away towards night, it -had left the sky dark and the air chilly. Not a star was to be seen in -the expanse above; and, though the moon was up, yet the light she gave -only served to show that heavy clouds were floating over the heavens, -the rounded edges of the vapours becoming every now and then of a dim -white, without the face of the bright orb ever being visible for a -moment. A dull, damp moist hung about the ground, and there was a -faint smell, not altogether unpleasant, but sickly and oppressive, -rose up, resembling that which is given forth by some kinds of -water-plants, and burdened the cold air. - -In the little churchyard, at the back of Stephen Gimlet's -cottage, there was a light burning, though ten o'clock had struck -some quarter of an hour before; and an elderly man, dressed, -notwithstanding the chilliness of the night, merely in a waistcoat -with striped sleeves, might have been seen by that light, which was -nested in a horse-lantern, and perched upon a fresh-turned heap of -earth. His head and shoulders were above the ground, and part of -his rounded back, with ever and anon the rise and fall of a heavy -pickaxe, appeared amongst the nettles and long hemlocks which overrun -the churchyard. His legs and feet were buried in a pit which he was -digging, and busily the sexton laboured away to hollow out the grave, -muttering to himself from time to time, and sometimes even singing at -his gloomy work. He was an old man, but he had no one to help him, and -in truth he needed it not, for he was hale and hearty, and he put such -a good will to his task, that it went on rapidly. The digging of a -grave was to him a sort of festival. He held brotherhood with the -worm, and gladly prepared the board for his kindred's banquet. - -The grave-digger had gone on for some time when, about the hour I have -mentioned, some one paused at the side of the low mossy wall, about a -hundred yards from the cottage of the new gamekeeper, and looked over -towards the lantern. Whoever the visitor was, he seemed either to -hesitate or to consider, for he remained with his arms leaning on the -coping for full five minutes before he opened the little wooden-gate -close by, and walking in, went up to the side of the grave. The sexton -heard him well enough, but I never saw a sexton who was not a -humorist, and he took not the least notice, working away as before. - -"Why, what are you about, old gentleman?" said a man's voice, at -length. - -"Don't you see?" rejoined the sexton, looking up, "practising the -oldest trade in the world but one--digging to be sure--aye, and -grave-digging, too, which is a very ancient profession likewise, -though when first it began men lived so long, the sextons must have -been but poor craftsmen for want of practice." - -"And whose grave is it you are digging?" asked the visitor. "I have -been here some days, and have not heard of any deaths." - -"One would think you were a doctor," answered the sexton, "for -you seem to fancy that you must have a hand in every death in the -parish--but you want to know whose grave it is--well, I can't tell -you, for I don't know myself." - -"But who ordered you to dig it then?" demanded the stranger. - -"No one," said the sexton; "it will fit somebody, I warrant, and I -shall get paid for it; and why should not I keep a ready made grave as -a town cobbler keeps ready-made shoes? I am digging it out of my own -fancy. There will be death somewhere before the week is out, I am -sure; for I dreamed last night that I saw a wedding come to this -church, and the bride and the bridegroom stepped on each of the grave -hillocks as they walked--so there will be a death, that's certain, and -may be two." - -"And so you are digging the grave on speculation, old fellow?" -exclaimed the other, "but I dare say you have a shrewd guess whom it -is for. There is some poor fellow ill in the neighbourhood--or some -woman in a bad way, ha?" - -"It may be for the young man lying wounded up at Buxton's inn," -answered the sexton; "they say he is better; but I should not wonder -if it served his turn after all. But I don't know, there is never any -telling who may go next. I've seen funny things in my day. Those who -thought they had a long lease, find it was a short one: those who were -wishing for other people's death, that they might get their money, die -first themselves." - -The sexton paused, and the stranger did not make any answer, looking -gloomily down into the pit as if he did not much like the last -reflections that rose up from the bottom of the grave. - -"Aye, funny things enough I have seen," continued the sexton, after -giving a stroke or two with his pickaxe; "but the funniest of all is, -to see how folks take on at first for those who are gone, and how soon -they get over it. Lord, what a lot of tears I have seen shed on this -little bit of ground! and how soon they were dried up, like a shower -in the sunshine. I recollect now there was a young lady sent down here -for change of air by the London doctors, after they had poisoned her -with their stuff, I dare say. A pretty creature she was as ever I set -eyes on, and did not seem ill, only a bit of a cough. Her mother came -with her, and then her lover, who was to be married to her when she -got well. But at six months' end she died--there she lies, close on -your left--and her lover, wasn't he terrible downcast? and he said to -me when we had put her comfortably in the ground, 'I shan't be long -after her, sexton; keep me that place beside her--there's a guinea for -you.' He did not come back, however, for five years, and then I saw -him one day go along the road in a chaise and four, with a fine lady -by his side, as gay as a lark." - -"Well, you would not have the man go on whimpering all his life?" said -the other; "how old are you, sexton?" - -"Sixty and eight last January," answered the other, "and I have dug -these graves forty years come St. John." - -"Have you many old men in the parish?" asked the stranger. - -"The oldest is eighty-two," replied the sexton, "and she is a woman." - -"Six from eighty-two," said the stranger in a contemplative tone, -"that leaves seventy-six. That will do very well." - -"Will it?" said the sexton, "well, you know best; but I should like to -see a bit more of your face," and as he spoke, the old man suddenly -raised his lantern towards the stranger, and then burst out into a -laugh, "ay, I thought I knew the voice!" he said, "and so you've come -back again, captain? Well now, this is droll enough! That bone you've -got your foot upon belongs to your old wet-nurse, Sally Loames, if I -know this ground; and she had as great a hand in damaging you as any -of the rest. She was a bad one! But what has brought you down now that -all the money's gone and the property too?" - -"Why, I'll tell you," answered Captain Moreton, "I'll tell you, my -good old Grindley. I want to see into the vault where the coffins are, -and just to have a look at the register. Can't you help me? you used -always to have the keys." - -"No, no, captain," rejoined the sexton, shaking his head, "no tricks! -no tricks! I'm not going to put my head into a noose for nothing." - -"Nobody wants you to put your head in a noose, Grindley," answered the -other, "all I want is just to take a look at the coffins for a minute, -and another at the register, for I have had a hint that I have been -terribly cheated, and that people have put my great-grandfather's -death six years too early, which makes all the difference to me; for -if my mother was born while he was living she could not break the -entail, do you see?" - -"Well, then," said the sexton, "you can come to-morrow, captain; and -I'll tell the doctor any hour you like." - -"That won't do, Grindley," replied Moreton, "the parson is with the -enemy; and, besides, I must not let any body know that I have seen the -register and the coffins till I have every thing prepared to upset -their roguery. You would not have me lose my own, would you, old boy? -Then as to your doing it for nothing, if you will swear not to tell -that I have seen the things at all, till I am ready and give you -leave, you shall have a ten-pound note." - -It is a strange and terrible thing, that the value of that which has -no value except as it affects us in this world and this life, -increases enormously in our eyes as we are leaving it. The sexton had -always been more or less a covetous man, as Captain Moreton well knew; -but the passion had increased upon him with years, and the bait of the -ten-pound note was not to be resisted. He took up the lantern, he -got out of the grave, and looked carefully round. It was late at -night--all was quiet--nothing seemed stirring; and approaching close -to Moreton's side, he said in a whisper, - -"No one knows that you were coming here, eh, captain?" - -"Nobody in the world," replied the other, "I called at your house an -hour ago, and the girl told me you were down here, but I said I would -call on you again to-morrow." - -"And you only want to look at the coffins and the book?" continued the -sexton. - -"Nothing else in the world," said Moreton, in an easy tone; "perhaps I -may take a memorandum in my pocket-book, that's all." - -"Well, then, give us the note and come along," replied the sexton, -"there can be no harm in that." - -Moreton slipped something into his hand, and they moved towards a -little door in the side of the church, opposite to that on which stood -the cottage of Stephen Gimlet. Here the sexton drew a large bunch of -keys out of his pocket and opened the door, holding up the lantern to -let his companion see the way in. - -Moreton whistled a bit of an opera air, but the old man put his hand -on his arm, saying in a low tone, "Hush! hush! what's the use of such -noise?" and leading the way to the opposite comer, he chose one of the -smallest of the keys on his bunch, and stooped down, kneeling on one -knee by the side of a large stone in the pavement, marked with a cross -and a star, and having a keyhole in it covered with a brass plate made -to play in the stone. The old man put in the key and turned it, but -when he attempted to lift the slab it resisted. - -"There, you must get it up for yourself," he said, rising, "I can't; -take hold of the key, and with your young arm you'll soon get it up, I -dare say." - -Moreton did as the other directed, and raised the slab without -difficulty. When he had done, he quietly put the keys in his pocket, -saying, "Give me the lantern!" - -But Mr. Grindley did not like the keys being in Captain Moreton's -pocket, and though he did not think it worth while to make a piece of -work about it, yet he kept the lantern and went down first. A damp, -close smell met them on the flight of narrow stone steps, which the -old lords of the manor had built down into their place of long repose; -and the air was so dark that it seemed as if the blackness of all the -many long nights which had passed since the vault was last opened had -accumulated and thickened there. - -For some moments, the faint light of the lantern had no effect upon -the solid gloom; but, as soon as it began to melt, the old man walked -on, saying, "This way, captain. I think it used to stand hereabouts, -upon the tressles to the right. That is your father's to the left, and -then there's your mother's; and next there's your little sister, who -died when she was a baby, all lying snug together. The Moretons, that -is the old Moretons, are over here. Here's your grandfather--a jolly -old dog, I recollect him well, with his large stomach and his purple -face--and then his lady--I did not know her--and then two or three -youngsters. You see, young and old, they all come here one time or -another. This should be your great grandfather," and he held up the -lantern to the top of one of the coffins. "No," he said, after a brief -examination, "that is the colonel who was killed in '45. Why they put -him here I don't know, for he died long before your great grandfather. -But here the old gentleman is. He lived to a great age, I know." - -"Let me see," said Captain Moreton; and approaching the side of the -coffin he made the old man hold the lantern close to the plate upon -the top. The greater part of the light was shed upon the coffin lid, -though some rays stole upwards and cast a sickly glare upon the two -faces that hung over the last resting-place of the old baronet. -Captain Moreton put his hand in his pocket, at the same time pointing -with the other to a brass plate, gilt, which bore a short inscription -upon it, somewhat obscure from dust and verdigris. - -"There! it is quite plain," he said, "1766!" - -The old sexton had been fumbling for a pair of spectacles, and now he -mounted them on his nose and looked closer, saying, "No, captain, -1760." - -"Nonsense!" said the other, sharply, "it is the dust covers the tail -of the six. I'll show you in a minute;" and as quick as light he drew -the other hand from his pocket, armed with a sharp steel instrument of -a very peculiar shape. It was like a stamp for cutting pastry, only -much smaller, with the sharp edge formed like a broken sickle. Before -the old man could see what he was about to do, he pressed his hand, -and the instrument it contained, tight upon the plate, gave it a -slight turn and withdrew it. - -"Lord 'a mercy! what have you done?" exclaimed the sexton. - -"Nothing, but taken off the dust," answered Moreton with a laugh; -"look at it now! Is it not 66 plain enough?" - -"Ay, that it is," said Grindley. "But this won't do, captain, this -won't do." - -"By ---- it shall do," replied the other, fiercely; "and if you say -one word, you will not only lose the money but get hanged into the -bargain; for the moment I hear you've 'peached I'll make a full -confession, and say you put me up to the trick. So now my old boy you -are in for it, and had better go through with it like a man. If we -both hold our tongues nothing can happen. We slip out together and no -one knows a syllable; but, if we are fools, and chatter, and don't -help each other, we shall both get into an infernal scrape. You will -suffer most, however, I'll take care of that. Then, on the contrary, -if I get back what they have cheated me and my father out of, you -shall have 100_l_. for your pains." - -At first the sexton was inclined to exclaim and protest, but Captain -Moreton went on so long that he had time to reflect--and, being a man -of quick perceptions, to make up his mind. At first, too, he looked -angrily in his companion's face through his spectacles, holding up the -lantern to see him well; but gradually be dropped the light and his -eyes together to the coffin-lid, examined it thoughtfully, and in the -end said, in alow, quiet, significant voice, "I think, captain, the -tail of that six looks somewhat bright and sharp considering how old -it is." - -The compact was signed and sealed by those words; and Moreton replied, -"I've thought of all that, old gentleman. It shall be as green as the -rest by to-morrow morning." - -Thus saying, he took out a small vial of a white liquid, dropped a few -drops on the plate, and rubbed them into the deep mark he had made. -Then, turning gaily to his companion, he exclaimed "Now for the -register." - -Grindley made no reply; and they walked up into the church again, put -down the slab of stone, locked it, and advanced towards the vestry. -There, however, the old man paused at the door, saying, in a low, -shaking voice, "I can't, captain! I can't! It is forgery, nothing -else. I'll stay here, you go and do what you like, you've the keys." - -"Where are the books kept?" asked the other, speaking low. - -"In the great chest," said the sexton, "it must be the second book -from the top." - -"Can I find pen and ink?" inquired Moreton. - -"On the table, on the table," answered Grindley. "Mathew Lomax had a -child christened two days ago. But it wont never look like the old -ink." - -"Never you fear," said the other worthy, "I am provided;" and taking -the lantern, he opened the vestry-door and went in. - -Captain Moreton set down the lantern on a little table covered with -green cloth, and proceeded about his work quietly and deliberately. He -was no new offender, though this was a new offence. He had none of the -young timidity of incipient crime about him. He had done a great many -unpleasant things on great inducements, pigeoned confiding friends, -made friendships for the sake of pigeoning, robbed Begums, as was the -custom in those days, shot two or three intimate acquaintances who did -not like being wronged, and was, moreover, a man of a hardy -constitution, so that his nerves were strong and unshaken. He tried -two or three keys before he found the one which fitted the lock of the -chest. He took out two volumes of registers, and examined the -contents, soon found the passage he was looking for, and then searched -for the pen and ink, which, after all, were not upon the table. Then -he tried the pen upon his thumb-nail, and took out his little bottle -again, for it would seem that within that vial was some fluid which -had a double operation, namely, that of corroding brass and rendering -ink pallid. The register was laid open before him, a stool drawn to -the table, his hand pressed tight upon the important page, and the pen -between his fingers and thumb to keep all steady in the process of -converting 1760 into 1766, when an unfortunate fact struck him, -namely, that there were a great many insertions between the two -periods. He paused to consider how this was to be overcome, when -suddenly he heard an exclamation from without, and the sound of -running steps in the church, as if some one was scampering away -in great haste. He had forgotten--it was the only thing he had -forgotten--to turn his face to the door, and he was in the act of -attempting to remedy this piece of neglect, by twisting his head over -his shoulder, when he received a blow upon the cheek which knocked him -off his stool, and stretched him on the pavement of the vestry. He -started up instantly, but before he could see any thing or any body, -the lantern was knocked over, and the door of the vestry shut and -bolted, leaving him a prisoner in the dark. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - - -Tarningham Park was exceedingly quiet; for Sir John Slingsby was out -at dinner some five miles off, and his merry activity being removed, -every living thing seemed to think itself entitled to take some -repose. Mrs. Clifford, who had been far from well for several days, -and had not quitted her room during the whole morning, had gone to -bed, Mary and Isabella were conversing quietly--perhaps sadly--in the -drawing-room, the butler snored in the pantry, the ladies' maids and -footmen were enjoying a temporary calm in their several spheres, and -cook, scullions, and housemaids were all taxing their energies to do -nothing with the most meritorious perseverance. Even the hares hopped -more deliberately upon the lawns, and the cock-pheasants strutted with -more tranquil grandeur. Every one seemed to know that Sir John -Slingsby was absent, and that there was no need to laugh, or talk, or -dance, or sing, or eat, or drink, more than was agreeable. The very -air seemed to participate in the general feeling, for, whereas it had -been somewhat boisterous and keen during the day, it sunk into a calm, -heavy, chilly sleep towards night, and the leaves rested motionless -upon the trees, as if weary of battling with the wind. - -"We will have a fire, Mary," said Isabella; "though it be summer in -the calendar, it is winter in the field, and I do not see why we -should regulate our comfort by the almanac. Papa will not be home till -twelve, and though he will be warm enough, I dare say, that will do -nothing for us." - -As she spoke she rose to ring the bell; but at the same moment another -bell rang, being that of the chief entrance, and both Miss Slingsby -and her cousin looked aghast at the idea of a visitor. Some time -elapsed before their apprehensions were either confirmed or removed; -for there was a good deal of talking at the glass-door; but at first -the servant did not choose to come in with any explanation. At length, -however, a footman appeared in very white stockings and laced -knee-bands, saying, with a grin, "If you please, Ma'am, there is little -Billy Lamb at the door wishes to see you. He asked for Sir John first. -I told him he couldn't, for you were engaged; but he said he was sure -you would, and teased me just to tell you he was here." - -"Billy Lamb!" said Isabella. "Who is that?--Oh, I remember: is not -that the poor boy at the White Hart?" - -"Yes, Ma'am," replied the footman, "the little humpback that you gave -half-a-crown to one day when he was whistling so beautiful." - -"Oh, I will see him, of course," said Isabella, much to the footman's -amazement, who could not see the 'of course;' "I will come out and -speak with him." - -"Have him brought in here, Bella," said Mary, "I know the poor boy -well, and his mother, too. The daughter is dead; she married badly, I -believe, and died two or three years ago." - -"Bring him in," said Miss Slingsby to the servant, and the man retired -to fulfil her commands. As Billy Lamb entered the room the two fair -girls, both so beautiful yet so unlike each other, advanced towards -the door to meet him; and stood before the poor deformed boy leaning -slightly towards each other, with their arms linked together. The boy -remained near the entrance, and the footman held the door open behind -him till Miss Slingsby nodded her head as an intimation that his -presence was not required. - -"Well, William," said Isabella, as the man departed, "how are you, and -what is it you want?" - -"And your poor mother, William," said Mary Clifford, "I have not seen -her a long while, how is she?" - -"She is much better, thank you, Ma'am," replied the boy. "She is -reconciled with Stephen, now, and has gone to be with him up in the -cottage, and take care of his little boy, my poor sister's orphan, and -so she is much better." Then turning to Isabella, he went on--"I am -quite well, thank you, Miss; but somehow my heart is very down just -now, for I came up to tell Sir John something very terrible and very -bad." - -"Is it magistrate's business, William? or can I give you any help?" -asked Isabella. - -"Oh dear no, Miss Slingsby," replied the boy, "it is not about myself -at all, but about Sir John;" and he looked up in her face with his -clear, bright, intelligent eyes, as if beseeching her to understand -him without forcing him to further explanations. - -But Isabella did not understand him at all; and she inquired--"What do -you mean, my good lad? I am sure my father will be glad to do any -thing he can for you; and I do not think that you would yourself do -any thing very terrible and very bad, such as you speak of." - -"Hush, Isabella," said her cousin, whose heart was a more apprehensive -one than her cousin's, and who had some glimmering of dangers or -sorrows hidden under the boy's obscure words: "Let him explain -himself. Tell us, William, exactly what you mean. If wrong has been -done you, we will try to make it right; but you spoke of my uncle: has -any thing happened to Sir John?" - -"No, Miss Mary," replied Billy Lamb, "but I fear evil may happen to -him if something is not done to stop it." - -"But of what kind?" asked Isabella, anxiously: "tell us all about it. -What is it you fear? Where did you get your information?" - -"From Mr. Bacon," answered the boy, simply, "the little lawyer at -Tarningham, Ma'am. He's not a bad man, nor an unkind man either, like -Mr. Wharton; and, though he did not just bid me come up and tell Sir -John, yet he said he very much wished he knew what was going to -happen. Then he said he could not write about it, for it was no -business of his, as he was but acting for others, and he did not like -to send a message because--" - -"But what is it?" exclaimed Mary Clifford and Isabella together. "In -pity's name, my good boy, do not keep us in suspense." - -"Why, Ma'am, he said," continued the boy, in a sad tone, and casting -down his eyes, "that to-morrow there would be an execution put in -here--that means that they will seize every thing. I know that, for -they did so six months after my father died. Then he said that very -likely Sir John would be arrested, unless he could pay five thousand -pounds down at once." - -Isabella sunk down in a chair overwhelmed, exclaiming, "Good Heaven!" - -"This is what Captain Hayward told us of!" said Mary Clifford, putting -her hand to her brow, and speaking rather to herself than to her -cousin. "How unfortunate that he should be absent now. This duel, -depend upon it, has prevented him from taking the means he proposed -for averting this blow. I feel sure he could and would have done so as -he promised." - -"Oh, whatever Ned Hayward promised he was able to perform," answered -Isabella, "nothing but some unfortunate circumstance, such as this -duel, has prevented him. He is as true and open as the day, Mary. What -would I not give for but five minutes' conversation with him now." - -"Would you? Would you?" said the musical voice of the poor boy. "I -think if you want them, you can have them very soon." - -"Oh, you dear good boy!" cried Isabella, starting up, "send him here -directly, if you know where he is. Tell him that my father's safety -depends entirely upon him: tell him we are ruined if he does not -come." - -"I do not think I can send him," said the boy in a disappointed tone. -"I don't think he can come: but if you like to go and see him, I will -venture to take you where he is; for I am sure you would not do him a -great injury, and say any thing of where he is hid." - -"Go to him?" exclaimed Isabella; "why, it is growing quite dark, my -good William. How can I go? But this is folly and weakness," she -exclaimed the next moment, "when my father's liberty and character are -at stake, shall I hesitate to go any where. I will go, William. Where -is it? Is it far?" - -"Stay, dear Isabella," said her cousin, "if needful, I will go with -you. This is a case which I think may justify what would be otherwise -improper. But let me ask one or two questions. You say Mr. Bacon told -you this, William. If he wished my uncle to know the facts, why did he -not send one of his clerks?" - -"Why he said, Miss Mary, that he had no right," answered the boy, "he -seemed in a great flurry, and as if he did not well know what to do; -but he asked if I had seen Sir John in town; for he generally comes to -the White Hart, you know; and told me to let him know if I chanced to -meet with him in town, because he wanted to speak with him -exceedingly. And then he went on that he did not know that he ought to -tell him either; for he had got an execution to take to-morrow, here, -and to have a writ against him the first thing to-morrow, and a great -deal more that I forget. But he said he was very sorry, and would -almost give one of his hands not to have it to do. At last he said I -was not to tell any body in the town what he had said, but that I -might tell Sir John if I saw him, so I came away here, Miss, as soon -as I could." - -"But where is Captain Hayward to be found, then?" asked Miss Clifford. -"You must tell us that before we can make up our minds, William." - -"I may as well tell you as take you," replied the boy, "but I must go -on before to say you are coming. He is at Ste Gimlet's, with him and -my mother, and has been there ever since he shot Mr. Wittingham." - -"Oh, I shall not mind going there," cried Isabella, "it will not call -for observation from the servants, but if he had been at an inn, it -would have been terrible." - -Mary Clifford smiled; for she was one of those who valued proprieties -_nearly_ at their right worth, if not quite. She never violated them -rashly; for no pleasure, or amusement, or mere personal gratification -would she transgress rules which society had framed, even though she -might think them foolish; but with a great object, a good purpose, and -a clear heart, she was ready to set them at nought. "I will go very -willingly with you, dear Bella," she said. "Captain Hayward went to -London, I know, for the express purpose of providing the means of -averting this calamity; but, from some words which he let drop, I -fancy he believed that it was not likely to fall upon us so soon. -There is no way that I see of aiding your father but by seeing and -consulting with this old friend. You said all this would happen early -tomorrow, William?" she continued, turning again to the boy. - -"As soon as it was light, Miss Mary," replied poor Billy Lamb. - -"Oh, Heaven, I will order the carriage directly," said Isabella, "run -on, there's a good lad, and let Captain Hayward know I am coming. You -can tell him why, and all about it." - -The boy retired, and sped away by the shortest paths towards his -brother-in-law's cottage. In the mean while the carriage was ordered; -but Sir John had got the chariot with him; the barouche had not -been out for some time; and the coachman thought fit to dust it. -Three-quarters of an hour passed ere the lamps were lighted and all -was ready, and then a footman with gold-laced hat in hand stood by the -side of the vehicle, to hand the ladies in and accompany them. -Isabella, however, told him that he would not be wanted, and gave the -order to drive to Stephen Gimlet's cottage. - -"Ay!" said the footman, as he turned into the house again, "Billy -Lamb's mother is there. Now they'll do the young ladies out of a -guinea or two, I'll warrant. What fools women are, to be sure!" - -While he thus moralised, the carriage rolled slowly on in the dark -night, drawn by two tall pursey horses and driven by a coachman of the -same qualities, neither of whom at all approved of being unexpectedly -taken out at that hour of the night; for dinner parties were rare in -the neighbourhood of Tarningham Park, balls were rarer still, and Sir -John Slingsby was much fonder of seeing what he called a set of jolly -fellows at his own house than of going out to find them, so that none -of his horses were at all accustomed to trot by candlelight. Nearly -half an hour more elapsed before the carriage entered the quiet lane -unaccustomed to the sound of any wheels but those of a waggon, or a -taxed-cart, and at length the reins were drawn in at the door of the -cottage. The house looked unpromising; not a light was to be seen, -for, strange to say, window-shutters had been put up to every casement -of Stephen Gimlet's dwelling, though one would not have supposed him a -man addicted to such luxuries. The coachman felt his dignity hurt at -having to descend from the box and open the carriage-door, the -respectability of the whole family seemed to suffer in his eyes; but, -nevertheless, he did it, and as he did so the horses moved on two or -three yards, of which Isabella was glad, for she reflected that if the -coachman saw into the cottage, he might see the inmates also. Ere she -went in, she told him to drive back to the style some two hundred -yards down the lane, and if the boy Billy Lamb came over--it was his -way from Tarningham Park--to keep him with the carriage. Then, with -two hearts which it must be confessed fluttered sadly, Isabella and -Mary knocked at the cottage-door, and scarcely waiting for reply -opened it in haste and went in. Mary's heart fluttered at the thought -of seeing Ned Hayward, as well as at the feeling of taking a somewhat -unusual step; but Isabella's flutter was solely on the latter account -till the door was open, and then it became worse than ever on another -score. - -The first object she saw straight before her was Mr. Beauchamp, who -was standing in the midst of the little parlour of the cottage, -talking to the poor boy, Billy Lamb, while Mrs. Lamb and Stephen -Gimlet were placed near the wide cottage hearth. - -The moment that Miss Slingsby's face appeared, Beauchamp turned from -the boy, saying, - -"Here are the ladies themselves. Now go home, my good boy; and if your -master is angry at your absence, tell him I will explain all to him. -My dear Miss Slingsby, I am delighted to see you and your fair cousin. -The boy says you wish to speak with Captain Hayward. He is in the room -above. I will tell him immediately;" and, after shaking hands with -both of the ladies, he turned away and went upstairs. - -Mary whispered eagerly with Isabella; and Stephen Gimlet touched his -mother-in-law's arm, as he saw that there was evidently a good deal of -agitation in their fair visitors' manner, saying, - -"Come, Goody, it wont give you cold, I dare say, to walk out for a bit -with me. They'll want to talk together," he added, in a low voice, -"and if it's cold we'll go into the little vestry of the church." - -The old woman looked towards the back-room, where the child was -sleeping; but Stephen answered her, ere she spoke, whispering, - -"No, no, we should hear it all there." - -Goody Lamb put her shawl over her head, while he took down the key of -the church; and Mary's eye catching their movements, she said, - -"Only for a few minutes, Mrs. Lamb. I should like to speak with you -when we have said a few words to Captain Hayward." - -Mrs. Lamb dropped a courtesy, and went out with her son-in-law; and -the next moment, a slow step was heard coming down the stairs. - -"Good Heaven, you are ill, Captain Hayward," cried Isabella, as her -father's friend presented himself, followed by Beauchamp. Mary -Clifford said nothing, but she felt more. - -"Oh, I shall soon be well again, my dear Miss Slingsby," answered Ned -Hayward; "the ball is out, and I am recovering quite fast--only a -little weak." - -"Hayward tells me I shall not be one too many," said Beauchamp; "but -if I am, Miss Slingsby, send me away, remembering, however, that you -may command me in any other way as well as that." - -What a difference there is between enterprise and execution! How the -difficulties grow upon us at every step of the mountain path, and how -faint the heart feels at the early obstacles which we had altogether -overlooked, Isabella Slingsby had thought it would be the easiest -thing in the world to enter upon the state of her father's affairs -with Ned Hayward. He was so old a friend; he had known her father -since he was himself sixteen years of age; he had himself given the -first warning, had opened the way. It had seemed to her, indeed, that -there would not be the slightest difficulty, that there could not be -any obstacle; but now, when she had to speak of all, her heart sank, -her courage failed her; and she strove to turn the conversation to any -other subject--only for a moment, till she recovered thought and -breath. - -"Oh, no! Do not go, Mr. Beauchamp," she said. "But how ill Captain -Hayward looks. We had no idea he had been wounded. They said that Mr. -Wittingham was the only sufferer." - -"I can assure you, it is nothing," replied Ned Hayward; "but you must -sit down, my dear young lady;" and with his left arm he put a seat for -Miss Slingsby, while Beauchamp did the same good office for Mary -Clifford. "I am sure that you have something important to say, and I -guess what it is," the young officer continued; "Miss Clifford, you -told your cousin a very painful communication I made to you ten or -twelve days ago. Is it not so? and she has come to speak upon that -subject?" - -"I did, Captain Hayward," answered Mary Clifford; "I told her all you -had said--and your generous and noble offer to assist Sir John in the -most pressing emergency. Her own knowledge confirmed in a great degree -the fact of great danger; but we feared that this unfortunate duel -might have interfered with your plans, and knew not where to find you, -or communicate with you." - -"I did not forget what I had undertaken," answered Ned Hayward; "but -like a thoughtless fool, as I am, I forgot I might be wounded, Miss -Clifford, or that I might be forced to run for it. Well may the good -people call me thoughtless Ned Hayward; for I remembered that I might -be killed, and provided against it; but I did not recollect any thing -else, and ordered the money to be remitted to the bank here at -Tarningham. The ball went into my shoulder, however, and I have been -unable to write ever since; otherwise I would have sent the cheque -long ago, to be used whenever it was needed. I hope to be able to -write as well as ever in a few days; so put your mind quite at ease -upon that score. As for the mortgage, which is, I suppose, in train -for immediate fore-closure, we must think what can be done some other -way; for I am a poor man, as you know, and have not the means of -lending the amount;" and, as he spoke, he turned his eyes towards -Beauchamp. - -Ned Hayward calculated that there would be plenty of time to make all -his arrangements; but such fancies were dissipated in a moment by -Isabella's reply:-- - -"Did not the boy tell you," she asked, "that every thing you feared, -is to take place to-morrow? He came up to warn us. That good little -man, Bacon, the attorney, sent him." - -"No, Isabella," said Mary Clifford, "he did not exactly send him; but -he told him the facts, evidently that they might reach my uncle's -ears; and the boy came up to tell us. I was sure, Captain Hayward," -she added, with a glowing cheek, "that you would do what you could to -aid, and that, if you could not aid, you would advise us how to act. -We therefore came on here, without hesitation; for no time is to be -lost, and Sir John is unfortunately out at dinner." - -"Very luckily, rather," said Ned Hayward. "No time, indeed, is to be -lost, if such be the state of things. I must write the cheque at once, -some way or another. There is a pen and ink in my little room, I will -go and get it." - -"But can you write?" asked Mary, anxiously; "can you, without injury -to yourself?" - -"Nay, stay, Hayward, stay," said Beauchamp; "you mentioned the subject -of the mortgage to me the other day. What is the amount, can you -tell?" - -"About fifty thousand pounds, and the devil himself knows how much -interest," answered Ned Hayward; "for I do not think Sir John has any -idea." - -"Nay, then I fear you must write the cheque," said Beauchamp, gravely; -"for I must not diminish the amount in the bank; but I will get the -pen and ink. We are a sort of prisoners here, Miss Slingsby, and dare -not show ourselves till Mr. Wittingham's state is better ascertained, -or we should long ago have endeavoured to put your mind at rest upon -these subjects. However, we hear the young man is better, and -therefore I trust we shall not be obliged to play at hide and seek -much longer." - -Thus saying, he went up the stairs again, but was several minutes ere -he returned, during which time, though occasionally falling into fits -of grave thought, Ned Hayward laughed and talked gaily; from time to -time stealing a quiet look at the fair face of Mary Clifford, as she -leaned her arm upon the table, and gazed somewhat sadly at the embers -of the gamekeeper's fire. - -At length Mr. Beauchamp made his appearance once more, and sitting -down to the table with a cheque-book before him, Ned Hayward, with a -laugh, took the pen in his hand, saying, - -"I must dash it off in haste, or it will be pronounced a forgery. So -here is for it," and with a rapid stroke or two he filled up the -cheque for the sum of twelve thousand pounds, and signed his name. His -cheek turned pale as he wrote; and Mary Clifford saw it, but that was -the only sign of pain that he suffered to appear. Then, throwing down -the pen, he took the paper with his left hand, and gave it to Miss -Slingsby. - -"There," he said, "I have had you on my knee twelve years ago, and -called you dear little Bella; but I never thought you would give me so -much pleasure as you do now." - -"Well, Ned Hayward," exclaimed Isabella, with her eyes running over, -"you are certainly the best and noblest creature in the world." - -Mary Clifford's lips murmured something very like "He is." - -Beauchamp looked on with an expression of grave pleasure; but scarcely -was the check signed and given, when the door of the cottage opened -suddenly, and Stephen Gimlet took a step over the threshold, saying, - -"I have caught him, gentlemen, I have caught him like a rat in a -trap." - -"Whom have you caught?" asked Beauchamp, turning quickly towards him. - -"Why, the fellow who fired the shot in at the window," answered -Stephen Gimlet. - -"That is glorious!" exclaimed Ned Hayward. "Where is he? What have you -done with him?" - -"I should not have meddled with him, perhaps," said the gamekeeper, -"if I had not found him meddling with the registers in the church, -which I know he has no right to do. I and Goody Lamb went out for a -bit into the churchyard, and, as she found the wind cold, we opened -the little door at this side of the church and went in; I had not been -in a minute, when I heard some one talking plain enough, but I could -not see any body for the life of me. I told Goody Lamb to stand behind -the pillar by the pulpit, while I went to see; but before I could take -a step, up out of the Moreton vault came two men with a lantern. One -of them was this fellow; and the other was the old sexton; and they -walked straight across towards the vestry; but, just a little way from -the door, the old sexton stopped and said, 'I can't, captain, it is -nothing better than forgery;' or something like that; and the other -fellow took the lantern and went on into the vestry. So I said to -Goody Lamb, in a whisper: 'Those rascals are up to no good;' and she -answered: 'One of them never was all his life.' So, then I said: 'You -get forward and scare the old sexton; I'll be close behind you.' The -old woman did it in a minute, walking on without any noise, till she -was right between him and the light, coming out of the vestry-door. -However, he had heard us whisper, I fancy; for he was staring about -him, as if he was looking for a ghost; and, as soon as he saw -something stand there, off he set, as if the devil were behind him; -and I jumped into the vestry, where the other fellow was sitting with -one of the great books open before him, and a pen in his hand. I did -not give him much time to think, but knocked him over, upset the -lantern, and locked the door. So there he is in a cage, just like one -of my ferrets." - -"That's capital," cried Ned Hayward; but Beauchamp looked very grave, -and, turning to Gimlet, he said, - -"We'll consider what is to be done with him by and by. You can bring -your good mother-in-law back now, Stephen; for our business is nearly -over, and then you can see these two ladies safe to the carriage. Miss -Slingsby," he continued, as soon as the gamekeeper was gone, "I wish -to speak two words with you regarding this little note," and he held -one up before her. "I took advantage of the pen and ink before I -brought it down, and so kept you waiting, I'm afraid; but it was not -without a purpose." - -Isabella hesitated for a moment; but Beauchamp added, laughing, - -"Nay, surely, you will trust yourself with me as far as the door." - -"Oh, yes," replied Isabella, with a gay toss of her head; "I am doing -all kinds of odd things to-night, and see no reason for stopping in -mid course." - -Thus saying, she walked towards the door, with Beauchamp following; -and they went out into the little garden, where Beauchamp put the note -in her hand, saying, - -"This is addressed to Dr. Miles, my dear young lady. We are not very -well aware of what has taken place regarding this mortgage, which -Hayward has mentioned to me; but I fear there is some foul play going -on. Should any sudden inconvenience arise regarding it, or the -interest upon it, send that note instantly to Dr. Miles, and, at the -same time, take means to let me know." - -"But how, my kind friend?" asked Isabella, "how can I let you know, -without discovering your place of concealment to others? You are -doubtless, aware, that there are placards all over the place offering -a reward for the apprehension of yourself and Captain Hayward." - -"We must not mind that," answered Beauchamp; "but, at all events, it -may be as well to send a note to me, enclosed to good old Widow Lamb; -and I must take my measures afterwards, as I find best. In the mean -time, Dr. Miles will insure that your father is put to no -inconvenience; for it so luckily happens, that I have a large sum -unemployed at the present moment, which could not be better applied, -than by saving you from distress and annoyance." - -"Oh, Mr. Beauchamp," cried Isabella, greatly moved, "what right have I -to so much kindness and generosity?" - -"Every right, that a fine and noble heart can give," answered -Beauchamp; "and, oh, let me add, every right, that can be bestowed by -the most sincere affection, that ever woman inspired in man--but I -will not agitate you more to-night. This is not a moment, when I can -press such a topic upon you. There is only one thing you must promise, -that you will suffer no consideration whatever to prevent you from -availing yourself of the means of freeing your father from his -difficulties--no, not even the rash words I have just spoken." - -Isabella was silent for a moment; but then she replied, in a low -voice, - -"Those words would have quite the contrary effect. They would give me -confidence and hope;" and she put her hand in his. - -Beauchamp raised it to his lips warmly, fully understanding all that -her reply implied. - -The devil is in a country apothecary. There is an awkward fatality -about them which always brings them on the ground at the wrong moment. - -"Good night, good night, Mr. Beauchamp," said Mr. Slattery of -Tarningham, slowly walking his horse down the sandy lane. "I thought I -would just step in to see Captain Hayward, and tell you that Harry -Wittingham is much better to-night," and Mr. Slattery, was dismounting -from his horse, not in the slightest degree with the intention of -seeing whose hand Mr. Beauchamp had been kissing, but merely in the -exercise of his professional avocations. As misfortune would have it, -Beauchamp had left the cottage-door open behind him, so that the -surgeon had a fair view of the act by which that gentleman had sealed -his tacit contract with Isabella, by the light which streamed forth -from within. But that which was unfortunate on one side, was fortunate -on another; for no sooner was the first monosyllable out of Mr. -Slattery's mouth, than Isabella darted in and closed the door, so that -the surgeon, though he thought the figure strangely like Sir John's -daughter, could not swear to the fact. - -Beauchamp at the same time hastened to prevent his obtaining any more -precise knowledge, saying. "Thank you for your information, Mr. -Slattery. Hayward is better, and cannot see you to-night, being -particularly engaged at present. Good night;" and he also retired into -the house and shut the door. - -"Ho, ho!" said Mr. Slattery, "so they do not choose me to see! Well, -let them take the consequences. When people trust me, I can be as -silent as the grave; but if they show a want of confidence, I know how -to match them. Did I whisper one word to any one of where the two -gentlemen were? No, not a word! and now they think to blind me. Well, -well, we shall see." - -And Mr. Slattery did see, for while this soliloquy had been going on, -he had been going on too, and when it came to a conclusion, he came -upon the lamps of the large comfortable barouche of Sir John Slingsby. - -"Good evening, Jenkins," said Mr. Slattery to the tall fat coachman, -"is Sir John in this part, that you are out so late?" - -"No, Sir," replied Jenkins, "he's got the charitt over at Meadowfield. -I brought over my young lady to see Widow Lamb, at Gimlet's, the new -keeper's. - -"Ho, ho," said Mr. Slattery again, but he had not time to make -reflections, for at the very moment, he heard a pair of human feet -running hard, and the next instant a figure shot across the glare of -the carriage-lamps. Mr. Slattery had a quick eye, and he instantly -called after the runner, "Hie! hie! captain, I want to speak with -you." - -But the person whom he addressed ran on; and as Mr. Slattery did not -choose to be so evaded, he struck his plated spurs into his horse's -side, and overtook him at the distance of a quarter of a mile; for -once past the style where the carriage stood, there was no possible -means of getting out of the high-banked lane. - -"Hie, captain! Captain Moreton!" cried Mr. Slattery, as he came near; -and Moreton not at all liking to have his name shouted all over the -country, slackened his pace. - -"What the devil do you want, Slattery?" he asked, "do you not see I'm -in a hurry?" - -"There's my little account, you know, captain," said Mr. Slattery, -"four years' standing, and you'd really oblige me very much if--" - -"Devil fly away with your account," said the worthy captain, -"do you think I'm going to pay for all the physic you drugged the -maid-servants with at the hall?" - -"Have you heard the news, captain?" exclaimed Mr. Slattery, coming -abruptly to the real point, as he perceived the other was going to run -again. - -"No, what news?" asked Moreton, pausing. - -"Why that Miss Slingsby is going to be married immediately to Mr. -Beauchamp, who has been staying down here so long," answered Mr. -Slattery; and then added, "as soon as young Wittingham's out of all -danger, they say." - -"Is she, by G--d!" exclaimed the captain. "Well, doctor, I shall take -the short cut through that gate--good night; and do not say to any one -you saw me here. I know you can be trusted with a secret." - -"To be sure!" said Mr. Slattery; and while Captain Moreton vaulted -over the gate, the surgeon pursued his way towards Tarningham. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - - -Sir John Slingsby returned to Tarningham Park at about the hour of -"dark midnight;" but he found both daughter and niece still up to -receive him. That Sir John Slingsby had imbibed a portion of wine more -abundant than most men could carry discreetly was evident from the -increased depth of the rose in his complexion, and from a certain -watery lustre in his eyes; but it must not thence be inferred that the -baronet was even in the least degree drank. How many he had left drunk -behind him matters not to this history; but he himself, though gay as -usual, was perfectly sober, quite gentlemanly and at his ease; for he -had not even arrived at that pitch where a consciousness of wine makes -one careful of not showing its effects. - -"Well, young ladies," he said, seating himself in his armchair for a -moment, and sticking his thumb into his white waistcoat, "you have -passed a dull night, I dare say, with the old gentleman out, and the -two young gentlemen Lord knows where. Well, how are we to wear away -to-morrow?" - -"I shall wear away the morning, my dear uncle," said Mary Clifford, -who had held long councils with her cousin, "in going to Tarningham; -and I will ask you to lend me the carriage for an hour at eight -o'clock." - -"Certainly, dear Mary," said the baronet; "but Tarningham? what takes -your pretty little self to Tarningham?" - -"Why the truth is I want some money," answered Miss Clifford, "I think -the bank opens at half-past eight." - -"Money in the bank!" cried Sir John Slingsby, "was there ever such a -girl? She has money in the bank! Well! take the carriage, Mary, when -you like, and be back to breakfast at half-past nine, otherwise you -shall have cold tea, and not a bit of pasty. Now to bed, to bed; for -if people have to go to Tarningham early in the morning, they must go -to bed at night." - -The breakfast-table was laid, as usual, by nine o'clock in the -morning; but before that hour Isabella Slingsby had been down and had -wandered about in the drawing-room and in the library with a nervous -sort of unsettledness in her manner, which struck even the servants, -who happened to pass. She looked out of almost every window in the -house which was accessible to her; she gazed down every road that -wound through the park; she scanned every moving figure, that was -within the range of sight; and she felt every moment a terror of what -the next would bring, which she had never experienced in life before. -She wished that Mary had not left her, that they had sent some one for -the money; and she conjured up difficulties and distresses, obstacles -that she would not know how to meet, questions of law and form of -which she was unaware, to trouble herself and agitate her mind still -more. At length, with a bold resolution, she rang the bell, and -ordered the servant, who appeared, to go down to Doctor Miles's, with -her compliments, and say she would be glad to see him. The moment -after her father entered the room as gay, as bustling, as jovial as -ever; his face resplendent with small red veins; his eyes sparkling -like the wine of the night before; his ample stomach rolling -unrepressed under an easy waistcoat; and his stout legs and neat foot -carrying him about with the light step of one-and-twenty. To have -looked at him one would have thought that there was not such a thing -as care or sorrow in the while world, much less in his own house. - -"Ah, Bella!" he cried, kissing her, "how have you slept, my -love?--Where's Mary?--not come back? How's your aunt?--pining, -pining, eh?--see what comes of a melancholy constitution, too much -bile and twenty years' trial of a puritanical husband! Well, what's -o'clock?--five-and-twenty minutes after nine--come along, we'll have -breakfast. Mary shall have a fresh jot of tea when she comes," and in -went Sir John Slingsby to the breakfast-room, ringing the bell as if -he would have pulled it down the moment he got it. - -"Breakfast," he exclaimed, when the butler appeared; "has not the -postbag come?" - -"No, Sir John," replied the man. - -"Very late," said the baronet; and, marching to the window, he looked -out upon the sunshiny park, with his hands behind him, for want of -better occupation. - -To poor Isabella Slingsby her father's lively unconsciousness was -terrible; and it was with trembling hands that she made the tea and -poured out the coffee, giving a sharp look round every time the door -opened, as if in expectation of some grim bailiff's face appearing. -Such, indeed, would have been the case, had it not been, that good Mr. -Bacon had contrived to delay what he could not prevent; and at length, -much to the joy and satisfaction of Isabella, the grating sound of -carriage-wheels was heard from the park. That sound was still distant -and indistinct, however, when the butler came in with a very peculiar -and significant expression of countenance, saying, "Please, Sir John, -there's a man wants to speak with you." - -"Well, he must wait," said Sir John Slingsby. "Tell him I am at -breakfast--has not the postbag come yet?" - -"Please, Sir John, the man says he must speak with you directly." - -"Tell him to go to the devil," said Sir John Slingsby, "and speak with -him;" but the words were scarcely out of his mouth, when the door -opened behind the butler, and not one man, but two appeared. - -Isabella's face had been very pale from the first announcement made by -the servant; but Sir John had remained perfectly unconscious till he -saw those two strange faces. They were any thing but pleasant faces -in the abstract, for though well washed and shaved there was a -ruffianly dirt of expression, which no soap could get rid of. There -are certain professions which stamp themselves upon the outer man in -indelible lines. The bailiff--the man who makes his bread or his -fortune by inflicting the most poignant misery the law knows upon his -fellow-creature--the step in society still lower than the hangman--is -never to be mistaken; and Sir John Slingsby recognised at once tie -errand of his intrusive visitors in their aspect. His face became very -pale, the red veins turned blue; and he sat at the table without -uttering a word. He well knew that these men's appearance, though -bad enough in itself, was but the commencement of evils: that the -long-delayed hour was come: that the thin worn line which upheld his -whole fortunes had snapped, and that he was now to fall into the gulf -of ruin which had so long yawned beneath him. Arrested and carried -from his house, every creditor would pour in with his claims, every -debt be swelled by law expenses, till nought would be left for him and -for his child, but a prison and a life of labour. - -His careless heart sank with the weight suddenly cast upon it; and his -brain was overpowered with the multitude of thoughts it had resisted -too long. - -But Isabella stepped in like an angel of comfort; her heart rose as -his fell. The moment of terror passed away, and as the foremost of the -two men laid his hand lightly upon Sir John's shoulder, she whispered -in his ear, "Do not alarm yourself, my dear father. Mary has gone to -Tarningham for the money. We heard of all this last night, and are -quite prepared. She will be here in a moment--I hear the carriage -coming up now." - -"At whose suit and for what amount?" demanded Sir John Slingsby, -turning to the bailiff. He could say no more, for some moments were -required to collect his thoughts. - -"At Mr. Wittingham's, Sir John," replied the man, "for five thousand -three hundred and forty-two pounds seven and fourpence." - -"Then you may tell Mr. Wittingham for me," said Sir John Slingsby, -"that he is a d--d shabby, sneaking scoundrel, to do such a thing as -this without giving me some notice." - -"Come, come, Sir John," rejoined the bailiff, "you know it is no use -talking--you must come along, you know." - -"You are somewhat too quick, Sir," said Isabella, interposing, "if you -mean to say the debt must be paid, that is very well. It shall be -paid." - -"Ay, Miss; but it must be paid immediately or Sir John must march," -answered the man, screwing his eye at his follower, "gammon is gammon, -you know." - -"I do not understand what you mean," said Isabella, haughtily, "pray, -papa, do not touch him (for Sir John had risen with fury in his -countenance). The debt shall be paid immediately, as you say." - -"And you shall be ducked in the horse-pond for your insolence," added -the baronet, continuing to the butler, "call in all the men." - -"Nay, nay--do not, my dear father!" cried Isabella. "Five thousand -three hundred and forty pounds, you said?" she continued, addressing -the bailiff, "I will bring the money this moment." - -"Forty-two, seven, and four," said the man, sullenly, "but there may -be detainers, and as the caption is made, I fancy I cannot--" - -"Oh, I'll soon settle that," said Sir John Slingsby, "you see, my good -fellow, there are several windows to this room as well as doors--I do -not resist the law--wouldn't resist the law for the world! but as soon -as the money is paid, you go out of either windows or doors as you -please; but speedily in either case. Get the money, Bella--call the -men here," he added, speaking sharply to the butler, "I see we shall -want them." - -Isabella hastened out of the room; for the carriage had just drawn up, -and as she entered the vestibule she saw Mary stepping lightly out of -it with a calm smile. "Have you got it?" cried Isabella, in eager -haste, "they are here already." - -"Indeed!" said Mary, sadly, "I am sorry for that; but there was some -difficulty; for at the bank, as the sum was so large, they wanted -proof of Captain Hayward's signature, which they did not well know. I -could not tell what to do, and therefore went to Mr. Bacon's who soon -settled the matter." - -"Why the writ was taken out by him," cried Isabella. - -"Yes, I know," answered her cousin, "but he told me how sorry he was -to be forced by Mr. Wittingham to do it; and explained that it would -be much better to pay the money at once in Tarningham, when he would -give me a receipt in full, and an order, or something, to these men, -so as to stop any thing unpleasant at once; for he thought I should -get back before they arrived. He said there would be a great object -gained in paying the money at once, so that the receipt might be dated -before what he called the _caption_." - -"And did you do it?" asked Isabella, eagerly; "did you do it, dearest -Mary?" - -"Yes," answered her cousin, half alarmed; "I really believe he is a -very honest little man, and he seemed truly distressed al Mr. -Wittingham's conduct. He gave me the receipt and the order too, and -took great pains to date them half-past eight, though it was nearly -nine. I hope I have not done wrong, Isabella?" - -"Oh, dear, no. I dare say it is all quite right," cried Isabella, -joyfully; "give them to me, Mary, and let me run back; for I am afraid -of what my father calls 'an affair of posts,' between him and these -bailiffs. I left him marvellously pugnacious." - -Mary Clifford put into her hand the two papers which she had received -in Tarningham; and at the same time drew forth a small bundle of -bank-notes, saying, "There is the rest of the twelve thousand -pounds--for Heaven's sake, take care of it, Isabella." - -Her cousin gazed at the little packet with a gay smile, and then -tossing her head with the joy of a light heart relieved from a heavy -load, she ran back into the breakfast-room, while Mary went upstairs -to lay aside her shawl and bonnet. - -At the door of the room where she had left her father, Isabella -resumed a calm and composed air; and entering with a stately step, -found five or six men-servants arranged across the end of the chamber, -while the two bailiffs stood looking somewhat crest-fallen and -apprehensive near Sir John, who, for his part, sat beating a tune on -the breakfast-table with his fingers, and endeavouring to appear -unconcerned. A sharp anxious glance at his daughter's face, however, -told that all fear was not at an end; but her confident look -re-assured him, and he exclaimed, "Well, Bella, have you brought the -money?" - -"Yes," replied Miss Slingsby, and approaching the table, she laid down -the roll of bank-notes, spread them out and began to count--"One -thousand, two thousand, three, four, five, six thousand;" she said -aloud, much to the astonishment and admiration of the servants. - -"That is more than enough, Madam," said the bailiff, approaching with -humbled air and smooth tone. - -"I know it is," replied Isabella: "be so good as to keep your hands -away, Sir; for you are not going to have one penny of that sum. I was -only counting to see that the sum was right. That paper, I think, will -be quite enough for you; and that, my dear father, is the receipt for -the whole sum and costs to Mr. Wittingham." - -"Well, Ma'am, well, I've nothing to say," exclaimed the bailiff, "it -is all in order. Howsomever, I have only done my duty; and am very -glad the matter is so settled." - -"Done your duty, you vagabond," cried Sir John Slingsby, "done -only your duty, when you ventured to use the word gammon to my -daughter--but it does not matter--it does not matter! Get out of my -sight as fast as possible, and tell that fellow Wittingham to keep far -off me, for, as sure as I am alive, I will horsewhip him the first -time I see him--take care of them, my men, and see them safe off the -grounds." - -The words certainly did not seem to imply any very formidable menace; -but as such the bailiff and his follower seemed to understand them, -and made speed towards the door, while the men-servants answered "That -we will, Sir John;" but made way for the two unwelcome visitors to -effect their exit easily. Isabella remonstrated earnestly with her -father; but the jovial baronet only exclaimed, "Pooh! nonsense, Bella; -no harm can happen, I must see what goes on; for, with a fair start -and a good run, it would be capital fun. Come into the library--come -into the library, we shall have the best view there; and after that we -will breakfast." - -Isabella Slingsby, however, remained alone in the breakfast-room, -gazing down upon the notes spread out on the table. The eagerness, the -excitement of the moment was gone. The anxious fear for her father's -liberty was over. Something smote her heart--even the little display -of the money before the eyes of the servants and the bailiffs, she was -sorry for. Considerations presented themselves which she had never -thought of before; and when her cousin Mary entered the room a few -minutes after, Isabella cast her arm round her neck, and bending her -head upon her shoulder, said, with a blush on her cheek and tears in -her eyes, "Poor Ned Hayward, Mary, I have thought too little of him, -and he is not rich, I know." - -"Do not be afraid, Isabella," said Mary, in a low tone. - -"But I am afraid, Mary," rejoined Isabella, "I know my father is -terribly embarrassed--I fear he will never be able to repay this sum." - -"Then I will," said Mary Clifford. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - - -We must go back to Stephen Gimlet's cottage and the preceding night. -Beauchamp and Captain Hayward stood together by the table, when their -two fair visitors had left them, waiting for the return of the -gamekeeper, and they both remained silent for several minutes. There -are times, when great things just accomplished, of whatever kind, or -character, seem to oppress the spirit and keep it down, as it were, -under a heavy weight. Nor is it altogether uninteresting to inquire -what is the cause of this oppression--the remote, often unseen, even -indistinct cause. It is not sorrow, it is not regret; for the weight -of thought seems cast upon us as often by a joyful as a sorrowful -event; and I speak not at all of the effect of misfortune, but simply -of that which is produced upon the mind by a great deed done--great, -at least, to the person who has performed it. I am inclined to think, -that the sort of load which I speak of, may be traced to the -consciousness of all the vast multitude of consequences of which every -act is the source. Not the slightest thing we do that does not send a -thrill vibrating along the endless chains of cause and effect to the -utmost limit of time through the whole grand machine of future -existence. Man dies, but not one of his acts ever dies, each -perpetuated and prolonged for ever by interminable results, affecting -some beings in every age to come--ay, even the slightest. But that -which is to follow only becomes a question with man when the deed is -to his own cognizance important as affecting himself and those around -him. The eye of God sees all; but it is merely when the consequences -are visible to our own limited ken, that we feel the strange -involution of our destiny with that of others, and, when what we have -just done is in its immediate results likely to affect us and those we -love profoundly, that we pause to consider all the wide extent of the -future which that act implies. Then we feel as if we had plunged -headlong into an ocean of endless waves, and the weight of the waters -oppresses the heart and spirit. We ask, what next? and then, what will -follow? And in the game of chess that we are playing against Fate, -look for the next move of our great adversary, and all the -consequences of that which we have ourselves just made. - -Both Beauchamp and Hayward had done an important thing that night. The -latter had stripped himself for a friend's benefit of the treasured -resource of after-life. Never rich, he had left himself but a scanty -pittance which was not likely to be increased by any means but his own -personal exertions. From that moment, he felt that his course of life -must be changed, that his views, his feelings, his habits, must -undergo a severe scrutiny, and be subjected to a hard discipline; that -the careless ease, the light-hearted indifference to the morrow was at -an end; that the small cares he had never yet known, the looking to -shillings and to pence, and all the sordid minutia; of difficult -economy were to be his companions for life, as inseparable from his -footsteps as his shadow. Honest poverty may be a very fine thing in -contemplation, but let its admirers understand that it is a difficult -thing in practice; for honesty and poverty are like Adam and the devil -in the garden, ill-suited tenants of one house, the latter of whom is -always laying out snares to reduce his companion to his own level. If -such be the case where the circumstances of birth have made the evils -of poverty habitual, and given its temptations no factitious -advantages, how much more is it so, when a knowledge of, a taste for, -and a long education in ease and comfort, have both engendered a habit -of expense, and rendered the restraints of poverty privations. It is -then that honesty has to struggle with a host of foes, and too often a -murder and suicide are committed: honesty killing itself after an -attempt to get rid of its comrade. - -But Ned Hayward was a very honest man, and his first thought was how -to bear his poverty rightly. He gave not one thought to the money he -had just given away--for so he believed it to be--he would have -performed the same act over and over again a dozen times if he had had -the means and the motives to do so; and would each time have done it -willingly; but that did not prevent his feeling the painful situation -in which he had left himself; and he contemplated with deep thought -and stern resolution all that was to issue from the deed he had done. - -With Beauchamp, the feelings might be different, but the sources from -which they sprang were the same. He, too, had taken a step, which was -to influence the whole of his future life. He had said words to -Isabella Slingsby, of which he felt all the import at the moment they -were spoken--which he spoke purposely, that there might be no doubt or -hesitation on her mind in regard to his sensations or purposes, and -yet which, as soon as they were uttered, filled him with a vague -feeling of apprehension. Yet Beauchamp was a resolute man in -character; and had performed acts of persisting resolution, which few -men would have had the determination to carry through. He loved -Isabella too dearly; and had the whole world been subject to his -choice would have selected her. He was anxious, likewise, to call her -his own, for he was not without the fire of passion, and was very -different from those idle triflers, in whom love is a vanity lighted -up by the cold _ignis fatuus_ of a volatile and fugitive desire. But -his previous history furnished materials for doubt and alarm; and when -he paused to contemplate all the innumerable consequences of the few -words he had spoken, there was a mist over one part of that sea of -many waves, and he asked himself, with awe, "What is beneath?" The -thought, however, that he was loved in return, was consolation and -courage; and though, for his part, Ned Hayward did not venture to -indulge in any such sweet dream, yet the image of Mary Clifford, like -that of the Virgin in the old legend, shed a light which dispelled the -darkness along one bright path, through the obscure future, for him -also. - -The contemplations of both gentlemen, however, were speedily broken -through by the return of Ste Gimlet, who, turning to Mr. Beauchamp, -inquired, - -"Please, Sir, what shall we do with the man locked up in the vestry?" - -"Oh, have him out," cried Ned Hayward, "and hand him over to a -constable." - -Beauchamp did not reply so quickly; but at length he said, "There may -be difficulty, Hayward, in finding a constable at this time of night; -and not only difficulty, but also danger to ourselves, if we take any -part in the business. Is the place where the man is confined secure?" -he continued, addressing the gamekeeper. - -"Pretty well, Sir, I think," answered Gimlet; "there are bars to the -windows, and the door is locked tight enough. Then we can lock the -church-door too." - -"I locked it, Stephen," said Mrs. Lamb; "there hangs the key." - -"Then let him stay there the night," rejoined Beauchamp, "I will -not interfere to screen him; and Gimlet can get a constable early -to-morrow morning, without our taking any part in the affair." - -This proposal was agreed to by Ned Hayward, though the expression -which his friend used, in regard to screening the offender, struck him -as somewhat strange. It is wonderful, however, how often in life we do -what is vulgarly termed, reckon without our host. The two gentlemen -retired to rest in the rooms above, which had been prepared and -furnished for them in haste, since the duel with young Wittingham; and -Stephen Gimlet and Widow Lamb also sought repose. Early the next -morning, however, the gamekeeper rose to seek a constable; but first -he thought it expedient to look at the temporary prison in which he -had confined Captain Moreton. The doors, both of church and vestry, -were still closed and locked; but passing round, towards his own -cottage again, by a little grass-grown path, that ran under the church -walls Ste Gimlet was surprised and confounded to perceive that three -of the bars covering the window of the vestry, had been forced out of -the old mortar in which they had been socketed; and, jumping up on a -tombstone to look in, he soon saw that the bird, as he expected, had -taken wing from its cage. - -Stephen Gimlet, notwithstanding this discovery, did not return to his -cottage at once, to communicate the intelligence to those within. He -paused and thought; but, to say truth, it was not of the event which -he had just ascertained that he meditated. That was done and over: the -man was gone, and might never be caught again; but the words which -Beauchamp had spoken the night before had made a deeper impression -upon his mind than they had upon Ned Hayward's, and naturally, for the -young officer had never remarked or heard any thing before, which -could lead his fancy to perceive any connexion between his friend and -Captain Moreton. Stephen Gimlet, on the contrary, had observed much -that excited his imagination, and it was one of a very active -character. He remembered the interest which Beauchamp had displayed in -the monuments of the Moreton family; he remembered all the inquiries -he had made regarding their former property; and he did not forget -either his mother-in-law's ancient connexion with one of the members -of that house, or the somewhat mysterious expressions she had used in -regard to Beauchamp himself. It was a tangled skein, difficult to -unravel, but yet he resolved to unravel it; not exactly from -curiosity, though curiosity might have some share therein, but rather -because, in his wild fancy, he dreamed that the knowledge which Goody -Lamb possessed of his guest's previous history, might afford him some -means of serving a man he looked upon as his benefactor. He was -peculiarly susceptible of kindness or unkindness, of gratitude or its -reverse, resentment, and he thought that it would be a happy day for -him if he could ever return to Mr. Beauchamp, even in a small degree, -the kindness he had received. He pondered upon these things for full -five minutes, and then returned to his cottage, where he found the old -lady in the inner room, making the little boy repeat a short prayer at -his bedside, after having washed and dressed him. It was a sweet and -wholesome sight to the father. He contrasted it with former days, and -he felt the balmy influence of honest peace pour over his heart. One -of the first rewards of a return to virtue from any of man's many -deviations, is an appreciation of its excellence. He stood and gazed, -and listened, well satisfied, while the words of holy prayer rose up -from the sweet tongue of his own child; and if the boy had prayed for -his father's confirmation in his return to right, the petition could -not have been more fully granted. - -When it was done, Ste Gimlet kissed the child and sent him out to play -in the little garden. Then, shaking hands with Widow Lamb, he said, - -"I wanted to ask you a question or two, goody. Do you know who the man -is that I locked into the vestry last night?" - -"To be sure I do," answered the widow; "do you think, Stephen, I could -forget one I have seen in such times and known in such acts as that -man? No, no; I shall remember him to my dying day." - -"Well, then," replied her son-in-law, "I want you to tell me, goody, -what there is between him and Mr. Beauchamp; for the man has got out -and is off, and I have great doubts that he is Mr. Beauchamp's -friend." - -"I had better hold my tongue, Stephen," said the old woman; "I had -better hold my tongue, at least till I see and understand more. One -thing at least I may say, and say truly, that the bitterest enemy ever -Mr. Beauchamp had was that Captain Moreton." - -"Do you think, Widow Lamb," asked the gamekeeper, in a low, stern -tone, "that he has any cause to wish Mr. Beauchamp dead?" - -The old woman started, and gazed at him, demanding, - -"What makes you ask that?" - -"I'll tell you, widow," replied the man. "Have you not heard of a shot -fired into Sir John Slingsby's dining-room? Well, that shot went -within a few inches of Mr. Beauchamp's head, and that is the man who -fired it." - -The old woman sank down on the stool by the bedside, and clasped her -hands together, exclaiming, - -"Is it come to that! Ay, I thought it would, sooner or later. He could -not stop--no, no, he could not stop!" - -She paused for a moment, and rocked herself backwards and forwards -upon the seat, with a pained and bewildered look. - -"I see how it is, goody," said Gimlet; "and now I'll tell you. That -fellow shan't get off. I'll never give it up till I've caught him. -I'll track him, like a hare, to his form, and he shall be punished. -Mr. Beauchamp has been kind to me--one of the first that ever were; -and I'll not forget kindness, though I'll try to forget unkindness." - -"Take care what you are about, Stephen," answered his mother-in-law, -"or you may do harm instead of good. Watch him, if you will, to -prevent mischief; and above all, let me know every thing that you see -and hear. I will talk with Mr. Beauchamp, as you call him, this very -day. I wonder if the woman is living!" - -"There was one woman with him, at all events," answered Stephen -Gimlet, "when he was down here last." - -"Ah! what was she like?" inquired Widow Lamb, eagerly; "what was she -like?" - -"I only saw her for a minute," replied the gamekeeper, "but she seemed -a fine handsome lady as one could wish to see--somewhat reddish in the -face; but with fine, dark eyes, and mighty gaily dressed. She was -tall, too, for a woman." - -"Yes, her eyes were dark enough," said Widow Lamb, "and she was always -fond of fine clothes--that was her ruin; but red in the face!--that is -strange; she had the finest and the fairest skin I ever saw." - -"Well, the redness might come from drink," said Ste Gimlet, "for she -seemed to me half drunk then. He called her Charlotte, I recollect." - -"Ay, that's her name," exclaimed the widow; "and so they have come -together again? It is for no good, I will answer; for two bolder or -worse spirits never met to plot mischief." - -"You had better tell me all about it, goody," said Stephen Gimlet; "do -something to that fellow I will, and it's bad to work in the dark." - -"Not till I have spoken to the gentleman upstairs," said the old -woman. "Watch the man, Stephen: find out where he is, what he is -doing, all about him, and about her too; but do not meddle with him -yet. Hark! they are coming down. You go away, and I will talk with him -this very day." - -"I must tell them he has got out, before I go," answered the -gamekeeper, going into the other room, and bolting the outer door, to -guard against intrusion while the two lodgers were below. - -No one, however, appeared but Beauchamp, whose first words were, - -"I wish, Stephen, you would send some one down to Tarningham, to tell -Mr. Slattery to come up. Captain Hayward is not so well this morning, -and says he has not slept all night." - -"I will go myself, Sir," said Gimlet; "but I just wanted to tell you -that Captain Moreton has got out during the night. He has wrenched out -three of the bars of the window, and is off." - -Beauchamp mused. - -"Well, it does not much matter," he said, at length; "but you had -better inform Doctor Miles of what you saw in the church, and let him -take whatever steps he may think necessary to insure that no fraud has -been committed. I can have nothing to do with the affair. Bring up Mr. -Slattery as soon as you can, for I am somewhat anxious about Captain -Hayward's state this morning." - -Gimlet did not reply. He uttered no expression of sorrow or of -sympathy; but yet he felt as much grieved and alarmed as if Ned -Hayward had been his brother; and his countenance showed it though his -words did not. - -As soon as he was gone, Mr. Beauchamp was turning to go upstairs -again; but Widow Lamb at the moment came out of the inner room, and -stopped him, saying, - -"I wish to speak a word or two to you, Sir." - -"Well, my good lady," answered Beauchamp, with a smile; "can I do any -thing to serve you?" - -"No, Sir," replied the old woman, "it is not that. But I see you do -not recollect me--and, indeed, how should you! It is a long time since -we first met." - -Beauchamp gazed at her for a moment in silence, and then said, - -"I think I do remember having seen you somewhere before I met you -here. Your face struck me as familiar to my recollection when first I -saw you; but I cannot remember where I saw it long ago. Were you ever -in India?" - -"Oh! no, my lord, it was not there," answered Widow Lamb; "when first -I saw you, you were quite a young gentleman; the Honourable Charles -St. Leger, they called you; and you had come down with Captain -Moreton, your cousin, to shoot on the grounds of his great-aunt, Miss -Moreton." - -Beauchamp's face turned somewhat pale, and his fine broad brow -contracted; but he did not speak, and the old woman continued, - -"Do you not recollect, my lord, Davie Lamb the grieve, as they called -him, and your coming down with a gay party to the grieve's house, one -day? It was the eleventh of August, twelve years ago this summer; and -the lady was with you, Miss Charlotte Hay, as they called her--" - -"Hush! hush!" cried Beauchamp, almost fiercely; "do not mention her -name in my hearing. You do not know--you do not know, good woman--" - -"Oh yes, my lord, I do," answered Widow Lamb; "I know more than you -think--more than you know, perhaps, yourself. I can tell you many -things about her." - -"Tell me nothing," said Beauchamp, sternly; "you can say nothing of -her conduct, infamous and bad, that I do not know or do not guess. I -wish never to hear her name again;" and he turned once more towards -the stairs. - -"Well, I beg your pardon, my lord," said Widow Lamb, with a -disappointed look, "I did not mean to vex you, but if ever you should -wish to hear more, I can tell you better than any one; for there is -nobody now living knows so much as I do, and I think--" - -The conclusion of her sentence was wanting, for some one opened the -cottage door, which had not been bolted since Stephen Gimlet had gone -out. The next moment, the head of Mr. Slattery appeared, and entering -with an insinuating smile, the worthy surgeon saluted Beauchamp -reverentially, saying, - -"I met my good friend Wolf, Mr. Beauchamp, and was sorry to hear that -Captain Hayward is not so well. But I have got good news for him, and -you too. No more need of playing at bo-peep. I found Mr. Wittingham so -much better this morning, that I have ventured publicly to pronounce -him out of danger." - -"Thank God for that!" said Beauchamp; "but we had better go up and see -Hayward, who seems to me somewhat feverish." - -"I am afraid there is a bit of the wadding, or the coat, or something -still in the wound," said Mr. Slattery, following upstairs, "but there -is no cause for alarm. It may produce inconvenience and some -inflammation; but nature, my dear Sir, by the very same process which -produces pain and irritation to the patient, often expels any -extraneous substance, which, if it remained, might cause more serious -results." - -Mr. Slattery remained at least an hour and a half; and to say the -truth, during that time he put our good friend Ned Hayward to some -torture, but in the end, he succeeded in extracting from the wound -which that gentleman had received, a portion of his waistcoat, which -had been carried in by the ball in its passage. Some hemorrhage -followed, which was stopped with difficulty; but at length the good -surgeon took his leave, and descended with Beauchamp to the lower -room. - -Widow Lamb, however, met them at the foot of the stairs, saying, in a -low tone, - -"There is a servant on horseback, from the Park, Sir, just now before -the door. He has got a note, which he will give to no one but you; and -I did not know what to do." - -"There is no necessity for any further concealment," said Beauchamp, -advancing to the door; "you have got a note for me," he continued, -speaking to the servant, who touched his hat, and delivered a small -billet. - -Beauchamp tore it open, and read, while good Mr. Slattery paused -beside him, in the hope of hearing some news; for, as we have shown, -he was not without a laudable portion of curiosity. - -"I must go over directly," said Beauchamp, for that note placed before -his eyes a very unpleasant state of affairs at Tarningham Park--a -mortgage foreclosed, an execution placed in the house, and Sir John -Slingsby himself arrested on a heavy bond debt, for long arrears of -interest, and interest upon interest, and lawyers' costs. Isabella -wrote in a tone of despair; and yet there was a something shining -through all her gloomy words--a trust, a confidence in him to whom -those words were written, which were very pleasing to him. - -"Can I drive you over in my gig, Mr. Beauchamp?" said Mr. Slattery. - -"No, I thank you," replied the other; "I dare say, my good fellow, you -will not object to let me mount your horse?" he continued, addressing -the servant, "I must get over to the Park as speedily as possible." - -Under ordinary circumstances, perhaps, the man might have objected; -but the events which had just happened at his master's house, were, by -the time he set out, known from the housekeeper's room to the pigsty, -and had excited amongst the servants too strong a feeling of dismay -and distress, for him to hesitate when there was a chance of affording -aid, or even consolation, to Sir John Slingsby and his daughter. He -instantly acceded, then, and lengthened the stirrups. Beauchamp only -stayed to get his hat and speak a few words to Ned Hayward, then -sprang into the saddle, and the next moment was going straight across -the country towards Tarningham Park. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - - -All was dismay and confusion in the house of Sir John Slingsby, when, -after having galloped across the park, without heeding bridle-paths or -carriage-roads, Beauchamp drew hit rein at the door. No servant came -to take the horse, for all were busy within, though, busy with what, -would have been difficult to say. The only thing they had to be busy -with was their own consternation; for there was no packing up for -departure, no inventories, no arrangements in progress; and yet not an -attendant appeared, except through the double glass-doors, where a -knot was to be seen assembled in the inner vestibule, who never turned -a look towards the terrace before the house. One excuse, perhaps, -might be that there were so many people arriving, that a new comer -could attract no attention. It seemed as if a general call had been -made upon Tarningham, to attend and witness the disgrace and -discomfort of the family. A number of tradesmen were gathered before -the doors, conversing together in low tones, and with gloomy faces; -and there was a post-chaise, besides a gig, a saddle-horse, and a -tax-cart or two. Beauchamp thought the spectacle somewhat odd; for it -seemed to him, notwithstanding all he knew of the gossiping -propensities of small places, that the news of Sir John Slingsby's -misfortunes must have spread with marvellous rapidity. But he knew not -Mr. Wharton, nor could conceive the policy which should induce a man, -who had chosen his moment for consummating a long prepared scheme for -stripping another of all his worldly wealth, to complicate his -difficulties by every means, so as to render the bonds he had cast -round him indissoluble. - -"Here, take my horse," he said, addressing the sullen-looking -postillion who stood behind the chaise; and when the man obeyed, -civilly enough, Beauchamp approached a hale-looking man, like a -grazier, and inquired, "What is all this?" - -"Why, Sir," replied the man, who had often seen his interrogator in -Tarningham, "Mr. Wharton's clerk told me that there was an execution -going to be put in, so I came up to see if I could get my bill. But -the lawyer was beforehand with us; and the matter is not so much, only -forty pound or so, and I did not think it worth while, when I found -how matters are going, to trouble the hearty old gentleman, who has -spent a deal o' money with us all in his day." - -"You seem a very respectable man," said Beauchamp, calmly, but still -somewhat moved, "and you shall not lose by your conduct. You, Sir," -and he turned to another, "I think you are the stationer at -Tarningham--is yours the same errand, and on the same information?" - -"Yes, Sir," answered the person he addressed, "one of Mr. Wharton's -young men came down and told me; but I think, with my neighbour -Groves, that we should behave handsome." - -"I see the whole matter," said Beauchamp, speaking rather to himself -than those around. "You can wait a little, gentlemen? I think Sir John -can pay you all without inconvenience, though he is a careless man, -and his affairs may not be quite in order." - -"They say Mr. Wharton has arrested him, Sir," said a little man, with -a thin, small voice. - -"I will go in and see," replied Beauchamp, with a smile. "If any of -you could contrive to go or send down to Tarningham, and say to Mr. -Bacon, the attorney, that Lord Lenham would be glad to see him here -immediately, you would oblige me. Tell him to lose not a moment." - -"I'll go, in a jiffey," cried the stout man, jumping into a tax-cart. -"Who did you say, my lord?" - -"Lord Lenham," answered Beauchamp; "he will know who you mean;" and -turning round, he walked into the house. - -The servants grouped themselves differently at his appearance, and -bowed low, the butler venturing to say, - -"I am glad you have come, Sir." - -"Where is your master?" asked Beauchamp. - -"In the library, Sir," replied the man, "with a number of them. It is -a sad time, Sir, 'specially for my poor young lady." - -The man walked on before, and opened the library door; Beauchamp -followed quickly; and certainly the sight which that room presented -was a painful one. Mrs. Clifford sat near one of the windows, the -picture of despair; Isabella was seated near the table, with her eyes -buried in her hands, and the rich curls of her beautiful hair falling -over her face. Mary was bending down to speak to her; grief in her -lovely face, but yet as calm and composed as usual. Old Sir John was a -little in advance, with two bailiffs standing near--not the same who -had been there earlier in the morning--and his valet behind him, -helping him to put on his great coat, while Mr. Wharton stood at the -other side of the large library-table, with a smile upon his lip, a -frown upon his brow, a sparkling black eye, and a double degree of red -in one of the cheeks, though the other looked somewhat pale. Two or -three men, whose business there and ordinary functions were not -apparent at the moment, made up the rest of the company. - -Sir John Slingsby had one arm in the sleeve of his great coat, and was -thrusting angrily and ineffectually at the garment, to get the other -in also, speaking all the time in a furious tone, with his face turned -to Mr. Wharton. - -"I tell you, Wharton, you are a d--d scoundrel," he said, "an -ungentlemanlike blackguard. You have swindled me out of thousands, and -you know it; and now, without giving me a hint, you come upon me in -this way." - -"You are angry, Sir John, you are angry," said Mr. Wharton, in a sweet -tone. "It is as unpleasant to me as to you, I can assure you; but when -I heard that Mr. Wittingham had issued process, I was compelled, -however unwillingly, to take care of myself and my clients. You know I -told you a month ago it could not go on any longer; so you cannot say -you had not notice." - -The old baronet was about to pour upon him a new volley of -objurgations, thrusting manfully at the sleeve of his coat all the -time, when suddenly his eye rested upon Beauchamp and he stopped, -turning a little pale, for the presence of that gentleman at such a -moment both surprised and pained him. Mary whispered a word to her -cousin, however, and Isabella starting up with the tears in her eyes, -and a glow upon her cheeks, held out her hand to him exclaiming, "Oh, -thank you, thank you! Dr. Miles was not to be found," she added, in a -whisper, "or I would not have sent." - -Beauchamp smiled and shook his head half reproachfully, and Sir John -recovering himself took his hand saying, "Ah, Beauchamp, you have come -at an awkward time. Can't ask you to dinner to-day, my dear Sir, for -the house is in the hands of the myrmidons of the law, and I must -away, they tell me. It's a bad job, I am afraid." - -"Nevertheless I intend to dine with you here, Sir John," answered -Beauchamp, laughing and shaking the baronet's hand warmly, "so you had -better take off your great coat." - -"I beg your pardon, Sir," said Mr. Wharton, taking a step forward, -"but I am afraid Sir John Slingsby cannot remain with you at present. -Business has been too long delayed already by the folly of the officer -who thought fit--" - -"To act like a man of some consideration and feeling I suppose, Sir," -said Beauchamp, eyeing him from head to foot with a calm, cold, -withering look. "You are Mr. Wharton the attorney I imagine, of whom I -have heard so much in regard to several transactions soon to be -inquired into." - -"My name is Wharton, Sir; yes, my name is Wharton," answered the -solicitor in a sharp, fierce tone, "and I insist that you do not -interrupt the operation of the law." - -"The operation of the law I shall not interrupt," replied Beauchamp, -"but the operations of the lawyer I certainly shall." - -"He's a nabob," said Sir John Slingsby to his niece in a low, laughing -voice, "yes, you are quite right, Beauchamp, this is Mr. Wharton, the -attorney, calling himself esquire, and a greater scoundrel does not -live between the four seas. He has cheated me through thick and thin, -and now wants by coming upon me all in a moment to get possession of -my property as he has done with others before now." - -"If such are his intentions he will find himself mistaken," answered -Beauchamp; "but now, Sir John, take off your coat again, and we will -to business. I think the ladies may as well leave us, however.--Be -satisfied, my dear Madam," he continued, speaking to Mrs. Clifford, -who had risen and come a little forward, "be satisfied, Miss -Slingsby--all this matter will be easily arranged, and Sir John and I -will join you in the drawing-room in an hour." - -While Beauchamp had been speaking these few words, Mr. Wharton had -been conversing with rapid utterance, but in a low voice, with one of -the men present, who seemed to be the superior sheriff's officer, and -as soon as the gentleman ceased he exclaimed. "Well, Sir, as you think -the whole matter can be so easily arranged I shall leave you to -arrange it." - -"Excuse me, Mr. Wharton," said Beauchamp, coolly, "you will be good -enough to stay. We shall want you for certain receipts, and, perhaps," -he added with a smile, "for some good legal advice till my own -solicitor comes, whom I expect in about half an hour." - -"My receipts can be soon given," said Mr. Wharton, a good deal -staggered and alarmed by Mr. Beauchamp's calm tone, and his allusion -to his solicitor; "but I can tell you that if you think that is all -you will have to do you are mistaken. The house is filled with -creditors." - -"Gathered together by Mr. Wharton, the attorney, for the purpose of -overwhelming a gentleman whom he sought to ruin," answered Beauchamp. -"I am aware of all that, Sir. Your proceedings have been watched, and -I am informed of almost every step you have taken for the last month. -I dare say, however, we shall find means of satisfying all who have -any just claims." - -Isabella had lingered at the door after her aunt and cousin had passed -out, and now hastily turning back, she placed a little packet she had -held tight in her hand, in that of Beauchamp, saying, in a low voice, -"Here is more than six thousand pounds, left from what kind, good, Ned -Hayward gave last night. The other debts are not large, but this man's -claim is frightful." - -She spoke in a tone of alarm, but Beauchamp hastened to relieve her, -replying, "Never fear, never fear! The claim must be investigated, but -all that is just shall be paid. Leave us, and make your mind easy, -dear Miss Slingsby." - -"I really cannot waste my time here," said Mr. Wharton, as the young -lady left the room, "I have important business to attend to and the -magistrates to meet at eleven, Mr. What's-your-name." - -"My name, Sir, is Charles Beauchamp St. Leger, Viscount Lenham," -answered Beauchamp, "and I am afraid the magistrates must dispense -with your company to-day, Mr. Wharton. You cannot carry this business -through, Sir, in the same manner that you did that of my poor uncle, -Mr. St. Leger Moreton. So now make up your mind at once, Sir, to -remain here till the whole of this unpleasant business which you have -stirred up against Sir John Slingsby be brought to a conclusion, for -depend upon it I will not let you go till such is the case." - -Mr. Wharton's face had turned paler and paler, till the carbuncles, of -which it did not possess a few, remained alone in their glory; but he -was an irritable and fiery man up to a certain point, and he replied -in a bold tone, "Oh ho, my lord! Do you think because you happen to be -a peer who has been skulking about the country under an alias, that -you can come down and brow-beat us country gentlemen at your -pleasure?" - -"I never attempt to brow-beat a gentleman," replied Beauchamp, laying -a particular emphasis on the last word, which called up a very -unpleasant grin upon the faces of two or three of the men present, -"nor do I brow-beat you, Mr. Wharton; but I simply insist upon your -staying till the business which brought you here is concluded. You -have no right to put Sir John Slingby in an unpleasant position, and -then leave him there when your presence is wanted to relieve him from -it." - -"He has a ducking in the horse-pond, too, to go through," cried Sir -John Slingsby, "such as we gave the other bailiff he sent up this -morning. He must wait, he must wait for all the honours," and turning -round with a laugh the worthy baronet whispered a word or two to his -valet, who remained in the room. - -"I will take care, Sir John," said the man, and was moving towards the -door; but Beauchamp interposed, saying, - -"No, no, we must have no violence. Only order the servants not to let -this man pass out till I have done with him;--and now to business. Sir -John, if you will take the end of the table I will sit here. Mr. -Wharton will place himself there, and the matter will soon be -arranged. Ring that bell, Sir." - -The bailiff to whom he spoke obeyed in an instant; Sir John Slingsby -took a chair at the head of the table, and Mr. Wharton seeing no help -for it, seated himself where Beauchamp had pointed, turning his face -to the window with an indifferent air, as if the business about to -take place was no concern of his. - -"Now, Sir, what is it you want here?" asked Beauchamp, addressing one -of the officers. - -"I hold a writ against Sir John Slingsby for twenty-two thousand three -hundred pounds," said the man, "at the suit of Joseph Wharton, Esq." - -"Well, Sir, stand back," said Beauchamp, "we will deal with you -presently.--And you, Sir?" he continued, speaking to another stout -broad-set, black-faced man. - -This proved to be an officer put in execution upon a second bond for a -sum of seven thousand pounds at the suit of the same person. He also -was directed to stand back, Beauchamp saying, "Upon these actions we -will give bail, as they must be tried.--You, Sir, there at the end of -the table, what do you want?" - -"Why, please you my lord, it's only my bill for a hundred and -seventeen pounds or thereabouts, for repairs to the stables and -offices. If it had not been Mr. Wharton told me I should not get my -money if I did not apply at once, I should never have thought of -troubling Sir John." - -Beauchamp's eye fixed sternly upon the attorney, who exclaimed with a -quivering lip, "Did you not consult me, Sir? Was I not bound to give -you a just opinion?" - -"I never said a word to nobody," replied the man, "till I met you in -the street, and you told me Mr. Wittingham was going to arrest Sir -John." - -"Really, my lord, this is trifling," said Mr. Wharton. "I ask is Sir -John Slingsby ready to discharge his heavy debt to me? If he is, let -him do it and I go. If not he must, I fear, go to prison." - -"He is quite ready, Sir, to discharge every just debt this instant," -replied Beauchamp, "but we doubt that your's is just, Sir, and -therefore we will deal first with those that are certainly honest. Sir -John," he continued pointing to a servant who had come in, "will you -order Dr. Miles to be sent for.--Now, my good man, you shall have a -cheque for your money," and taking out his cheque-book he wrote an -order for the amount, taking the builder's name and statement from his -own lips. - -Another man was then called forward, and the same course pursued, -Beauchamp proceeding quietly, although he saw Mr. Wharton rise and -enter into eager consultation with the bailiffs. - -He was not allowed to go on long without interruption, for after what -seemed some urgent remonstrances on the part of Mr. Wharton, and a -good deal of resistance on the part of the sheriff's officer, the -latter stepped forward, saying, "I really, my lord, cannot wait any -longer, and I do not see any good of it; for Sir John being in my -custody, and not knowing what detainers may be lodged against him, a -bail bond cannot be drawn till we see." - -The man spoke civilly, and with an evident respect for rank, and -Beauchamp answered calmly, "Your observation is a very just one, my -good friend. I have only to answer however that I am ready to give -bail to any amount which you may think necessary to secure the -sheriff, in which Dr. Miles will join me I am sure as soon as he -arrives." - -"It is a heavy sum, Sir," said the bailiff, doubtfully. - -"True," answered Beauchamp, "and moreover you do not know, except from -my own word, who I am, nor that I am in a position to give an -available bond. It is for that very reason that I wish you to delay -till my solicitor and Dr. Miles arrive, when I assure you, upon my -word of honour, that you shall have every satisfaction. The sum -required would be more than met by money of mine in the Tarningham -bank, as you will see by that receipt, if I thought fit to pay the -debt claimed by Mr. Wharton at once, which I do not. The bond on which -the writ has been taken out is, you tell me, for twenty-two thousand -three hundred pounds. Here you see are sixty-five thousand pounds paid -on my account into the Tarningham bank." - -"But there is another bond for seven thousand five hundred pounds on -which execution has issued," said Mr. Wharton. - -"Exactly so," said Beauchamp, whose thoughts were very rapid, "and the -way I intend to deal with that matter is as follows: We will pay the -amount of that bond under protest as a matter of account, reserving -this other claim for twenty-three thousand pounds to try the questions -that may arise, such as consideration, usury, &c." - -Mr. Wharton bit his lip. He saw that he had made one mistake. He -feared that he might have made more; for knowing that Sir John -Slingsby had little acquaintance with law, and an invincible objection -to lawyers, excepting when he wanted to borrow money, he had gone on -with somewhat rash confidence in his own powers of over-reaching. -However he put a bold face upon the matter, saying, "That won't do, -Sir, that won't do, my Lord. You seem to have a smattering of the law, -but you will find that all accounts have been examined and passed. No -court in Christendom will open that question again." - -"We will see," replied Beauchamp, quietly. - -"Then there is the mortgage," said Mr. Wharton. - -"That will be dealt with as we shall be advised," rejoined the young -nobleman; "the matter of the mortgage has nothing to do with the -business before us; and moreover, Mr. Wharton, I will beg you not to -interfere here till you are called upon. Though a lawyer you are -exactly in the same position as any other creditor, and in taking out -this writ, you have given all power into other hands. If I satisfy the -sheriff that he has sufficient security according to law, for the -appearance of Sir John Slingsby, that is all that is necessary; and I -will tell you, Sir, that sooner than see a course, which is certainly -unhandsome, and which I suspect to be villanous, successful against my -friend, even so far as to remove him from his own house for an hour, I -would pay the amount of all claims upon him to the sheriff under -protest. I have the means of doing so at command this moment, and -therefore be very sure that your arts will avail you nothing--Sir, I -understand you," he added sternly, "the property upon which you have -advanced a pitiful sum of fifty thousand pounds, and by accumulating -interest upon interest, and costs upon costs, have raised the debt to -nearly eighty thousand, is worth, at least, two hundred. The bait was -tempting, Sir; but beware that in snapping at it too eagerly, you have -not got the hook in your jaws. There is such a thing, Sir, as striking -fraudulent attorneys off the roll, and, at all events be sure, that -however pleasant it might be to possess this estate, you will never -have it." - -"I do not want it, Sir," cried Mr. Wharton, half mad with rage and -vexation, "I would not have it if you would give it to me." - -Beauchamp laughed, and Sir John Slingsby shouted; while all the other -persons in the room, not excepting bailiffs, tittered, without -disguise, to the lawyer's sad discomfort. - -"Ah! here comes Miles," exclaimed Sir John, "and Mr. Undersheriff too, -by Jove. That is lucky; the matter will soon be settled now.--How are -you doctor, how are you Mr. Sheriff? you are the very man we wanted." - -"I am very sorry for all this business, Sir John," said a tall -gentlemanlike person, whom he had addressed; "but having business at -Tarningham, and hearing of the unfortunate occurrence by the way, I -thought it better to come up myself, as I felt sure the action could -be bailed." - -"And so it can," cried Sir John Slingsby, "here stands bail ready in -the person of my friend, Lord Lenham; but that pitiful little -snivelling rogue, Wharton, objects." - -"Ah! good day, Wharton," said the sheriff, drily, "why do you object?" - -"No, I do not object," replied the attorney, "the men here, Bulstrode -and the rest, thought there might be detainers, and the process -having--" - -"No, no!" cried the officer, "we thought nothing about it, till you -told us to refuse the bail till we had searched the office. I've a -shrewd guess, Mr. Wharton, that you have got up all the creditors here -who could lodge detainers and his lordship offers to pay all honest -debts at once, and to put in bail against yours." - -"What do you mean by that?" exclaimed Wharton, furiously; but the -sheriff interfered, and at the same time Doctor Miles and Beauchamp, -who had been speaking together, turned round, and the clergyman -introduced his young friend to the officer of the county by the title -of Viscount Lenham. - -"This matter, I think, can be settled with you, Sir, in a few words," -said Beauchamp, "I do not choose to see my friend, Sir John Slingsby, -wronged. It so happens, that intending to buy an estate in this -neighbourhood, I have had a considerable sum paid lately into -Tarningham Bank. I am ready to give a bail bond for any sum you may -think necessary to your own security, that Sir John appears to the -action of Mr. Wharton, or anyone else; or to pay into your hands any -sum claimed, under protest. I think, in these circumstances, there can -be no need of removing Sir John from his own house." - -"Not in the least," said the sheriff, "bail will be quite sufficient, -and can be given here quite as well as ten miles hence." - -"But, my dear Sir," exclaimed Mr. Wharton, "there may be detainers for -aught you know, and to a large amount." - -"I will take my chance of that, Wharton," replied the undersheriff, -"there were none when I came away, for I had occasion to examine the -books. It is not usual to lodge detainers till caption has been -actually effected, I think, my good friend." - -"I think your proceeding very rash and irregular, Sir," replied the -lawyer, nettled, "and I should certainly object, if--" - -"Pooh, pooh!" cried the sheriff, "I am the best judge of my own -affairs; and you are meddling with what does not concern you, Mr. -Wharton. If I take a sufficient bail for Sir John's appearance to your -action, that is all yon have to do with, and perhaps more; so let us -have no more of this; for I will not be meddled with in the discharge -of my duties. You tried this once before, Sir, and did not find it -succeed." - -"Well, Sir, take your own way, take your own way!" cried Mr. Wharton, -in a sharp tone; "the sum is large; if the bail be not good, you are -responsible. A gentleman who goes about the country under one false -name, may very well take another. I do not mean to say that it is so; -but this gentleman who calls himself Lord Lenham now, and called -himself Mr. Beauchamp a few days ago, may be the greatest swindler in -England for aught any of us know." - -"Swindlers do not usually have large sums at the bankers," said Dr. -Miles, drily; "that is to say, Mr. Wharton, not those swindlers whom -the law is willing to take hold of, though I have known many rich men -who swindled a good deal within the law, especially in your -profession. But to set all that at rest, I will join in the bond, if -necessary, and I possess means, I trust, sufficient to insure Mr. -Under-Sheriff against all risk.--There comes Bacon, trotting up on his -little fat horse. Bacon is a very excellent man, considering the -temptations of profession and example." - -"Well, as my opinion is of no value, my presence can be of no -use," said Mr. Wharton; "and I shall therefore go. Good morning, -gentlemen--Sir John Slingsby, good morning." - -The baronet took a step forward, looking at the lawyer somewhat -ominously, while the good stout calf of his leg might be seen to -tremble a little, as if agitated by the simultaneous action of -antagonist muscles--but then he stopped, saying aloud, - -"No, I won't kick him--no, I won't kick any body any more." - -"A very prudent resolution, Sir John," said Dr. Miles, "pray adhere to -it; and if you include the horsewhip in your renunciations, you will -do well." - -Mr. Wharton was suffered to retreat, unkicked; the matter of the -bail-bond was easily arranged; all the rest of the business passed -quietly; the bailiffs and their satellites were withdrawn from the -house; the creditors who remained, paid; and the under-sheriff took -his leave. Somewhat more time had been expended, indeed, than -Beauchamp had expected that the affair would occupy, ere he, Sir John -Slingsby, and Doctor Miles, were once more left alone in the library; -but then the baronet seized his friend's hand, with an unwonted dew in -his eyes, saying, - -"How can I ever thank you for your noble conduct. I cannot show my -gratitude--but you must be secured. You shall have a mortgage for the -whole sum: the estate can well bear it, I am sure, notwithstanding all -that fellow Wharton says." - -"I am quite convinced it can, Sir John," answered Beauchamp, "and I -will accept your offer, because, for reasons of my own, I am -exceedingly anxious that you should be under no possible obligation to -me; and now let us join the ladies, for they will think we are never -coming." - -Dr. Miles smiled; for though he had never played at the games of love -and matrimony, he had been a looker-on all his life, and understood -them well. Sir John Slingsby was totally unconscious, and led the way -to the drawing-room, marvelling a little, perhaps--for he was not a -vain man--at the fact of his having so completely won Beauchamp's -regard, and created such an interest in his bosom, but never -attributing to his daughter any share therein. With parents it is ever -the story of the philosopher and his cat; and though they can solve -very difficult problems regarding things at a distance, yet they do -not always readily see that a kitten can go through the same hole in a -door which its mother can pass. - -"Here, Isabel," cried the old gentleman, as they entered the room -where the three ladies were seated, watching the door as if their fate -hung upon its hinges, "shake this gentleman by the hand, as the best -friend your father ever had." - -"I do thank him, from my heart," said Isabella, giving Beauchamp her -hand, with tears in her eyes; "but yet, my dear father," she added, -frankly, "Mr. Beauchamp would think me ungenerous, if I did not tell -you that you have another friend, who has acted in as kind and noble a -manner as himself. I mean Captain--no, I will call him by his old -name, Ned Hayward; for to him we owed the means of discharging the -debt to that man Wittingham." - -"The obligation is infinitely greater to him than to me, my dear Miss -Slingsby," said Beauchamp; "for I know that Hayward's income is not -very large, while, in my case, there is really no obligation at all. -This money was lying idle, and it might just as well be invested in -one way as another." - -"But every one is not so ready to invest money in a friend's relief," -said Sir John, "and I shall never forget it. Hang me, my dear girl, if -I can tell what he found out in me to like or respect; I never could -discover anything of the kind myself." - -Isabella coloured to the eyes, but answered at once, - -"Mr. Beauchamp consulted only his own noble heart." - -"Mr. Beauchamp!" cried Sir John Slingsby, with one of his merry -laughs; "Mr. Beauchamp had nothing to do with it, Bella. I am not in -the least indebted to Mr. Beauchamp." - -Isabella, Mrs. Clifford, and Mary, were all alarmed; for they might -well fear that the events of that morning had somewhat affected Sir -John Slingsby's brain. But he soon relieved them. - -"No, Isabella," he continued, "it is to this gentleman I am -indebted--let me introduce him to you. Isabella, Lord Lenham! Lord -Lenham, my daughter." - -Isabella cast her eyes to the ground, and a shade of deep, and, it -seemed to Beauchamp, anxious thought, came over her face; but the next -moment she looked up, all bright and sparkling again, and exclaimed, - -"So, Lord Lenham has thought fit to come upon us in masquerade! That -was hardly fair, my lord." - -"Some day when Miss Slingsby will let me tell a long story she shall -hear the reasons why," answered Beauchamp, "and may then judge whether -it was fair or not. If she decides the cause in my favour, she may -tell the pleadings to the whole party, if she thinks I have greatly -erred she shall forgive the offender and conceal his crime under the -seal of confession." - -Again Isabella blushed deeply; and Sir John Slingsby made the matter -worse by exclaiming, "Ho, ho! it is to be a private conference, is it? -We are all to be kept in the dark, as indeed I have been lately; for -all I know is that I have been placed in a very unpleasant and -unexpected situation this morning, and as suddenly relieved from it by -the affection of two dear girls, and the generosity of our noble -friend. I have not thanked you yet, my dear Mary; but pray let me hear -how all this has been brought about that I may do so discreetly." - -"In the meantime," said Beauchamp, "I, who know the whole, will walk -back again to my poor friend Hayward, and tell him how all things have -gone." - -"You promised to dine, you promised to dine!" cried Sir John Slingsby, -"no breach of promise or I will have my action against you." - -"I will keep mine to the letter," replied Beauchamp, "and be back in a -couple of hours." - -"And bring Ned Hayward with you," said the baronet. - -Beauchamp explained that such a thing was impossible, saying that his -friend had become somewhat worse in health since the preceding night, -but without giving any cause for alarm. His eyes turned towards Mary -Clifford as he spoke with a momentary glance, which sufficed, by the -paleness that spread over her face, to confirm suspicions which he had -entertained since the night before. He was too much a gentleman in -heart to keep his eyes there more than that one moment for he felt -that it would not only be a rudeness but an unkindness. - -"I will walk with you, my good lord," said Doctor Miles, "I long to -see Captain Hayward. He has particularly interested me." - -"And you will walk back with Lord Lenham to dinner, doctor," said Sir -John as gaily as ever, "we will have one jolly evening after all this -_fracas_ at all events." - -"I will come to dinner," replied Dr. Miles, "expressly to keep it from -being too jolly, you incorrigible old gentleman." - -But Sir John only laughed, and the peer and the priest walked away -together. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - - -"You said just now, doctor," observed Beauchamp as they strolled -through the park, "that Ned Hayward particularly interested you. I am -glad of it, for he did so with me from the first, without my well -knowing why; and we are always glad to find a prepossession which -savours perhaps a little of weakness, kept in countenance by others -for whom we have a respect." - -"You mistake altogether, young gentleman," replied the doctor, with -the dry spirit upon him. "In my case it is no prepossession; neither -did he interest me from the first. I generally can give a reason for -what I feel. I am no being of impulses. Indeed," he continued, more -discursively, "I was any thing but prepossessed in Captain Hayward's -favour. I knew he had been brought up in the army, under the judicious -auspices of Sir John Slingsby. That dear girl, Isabella, told me that, -from what she could remember of him, he was a gay, lively, rattling -fellow. Sir John called him the best fellow that ever lived, and I -know tolerably well what that means. The reason, then, why he -interested me very soon, was because he disappointed me. For half an -hour after I first saw him, I thought he was just what I expected--a -man constitutionally lively, gay from want of thought, good-humoured -from want of feeling; having some talents, but no judgment; acting -right occasionally by impulse, but not by principle." - -"You did him great injustice," said Beauchamp, warmly. - -"I know I did," replied the clergyman, "but not long. A thousand -little traits showed me that, under the shining and rippling surface -of the lake, there were deep, still waters. The singular delicacy and -judgment with which he treated that business of the scandalous attack -upon Mrs. Clifford's carriage; the kindly skill with which he led Sir -John away from the subject, when he found that it distressed poor -Mary; his conduct towards the poacher and his boy; his moderation and -his gentleness in some cases, and his vigour and resolution in others, -soon set all preconceived opinions to rights. He has one fault, -however, which is both a very great and a very common one--he conceals -his good qualities from the eyes of others. This is a great wrong to -society. If all good and honest men would but show themselves as they -really are, they would stare vice out of countenance; and if even -those who are not altogether what we wish, would show the good that is -in them, and conceal the bad, they would put vice and folly out of -fashion; for I do believe that there are far more good men, and even a -greater amount of good qualities amongst those who are partly bad, -than the world knows any thing about. So you see I am not a -misanthrope." - -"I never suspected you of being so, my dear doctor," said Beauchamp; -"if I had I should not have attempted to create an interest for myself -in you." - -"Ay! then, you had an interested motive in coming up every other day -to my little rectory, just at the time that Isabella Slingsby visited -her poor and her schools!" cried Dr. Miles, laughing; "but I -understand it--I understand it all, my noble lord--there is not such a -thing as a purely disinterested man upon earth: the difference is -simply the sort of interest men seek to serve--some are filthy -interests, such as avarice, ambition, ostentation, even gluttony--how -I have seen men fawn upon the givers of good dinners! Then there are -maudlin interests, such as love and its et ceteras; and then, again, -there are the generous interests; but I am afraid I must class those -you sought to serve in such friendly visitations amongst the maudlin -ones--is it not so?" - -"Not exactly," answered Beauchamp; "for if you remember, my good -friend, you will find that I came up to your house at the same hour, -and as often, before I saw Miss Slingsby there, as afterwards. -Moreover, during the whole time I did so come before I was introduced -to her father, I never had a thought of offering her my hand, how much -soever I might admire and esteem her." - -Dr. Miles turned round, and looked at his companion, steadily, for a -moment or two. - -"I do not know what to make of you," he said, at length. - -"I will tell you," replied Beauchamp, with a sad smile, "for I do not -believe any one could divine the causes which have led me to act a -somewhat unusual, if not eccentric, part, without knowing events which -took place many years ago. I told you once that I wished to make you -my father confessor. I had not time then to finish all I had to say; -but my intention has been still the same, and it is now necessary, for -Miss Slingsby's sake, that I should execute it: we shall have time in -going over, and I will make my story short. You are probably aware -that I was an only son, my father having never married after my -mother's death, my mother having survived my birth only a few hours. -My father was a man of very keen sensibilities, proud of his name, his -station, and his family--proud of their having been all honourable, -and not one spot of reproach having ever rested on his lineage. He was -too partially fond of me, too, as the only pledge of love left him by -one for whom he sorrowed with a grief that unnerved his mind, and -impaired his corporeal health. I was brought up at home, under a -careful tutor, for my father had great objections, partly just, partly -I believe unjust, towards schools. At home I was a good deal spoiled, -and had too frequently my own way, till I was sent to college, where I -first learned something of the world, but, alas! not much, and I have -had harder lessons since. The first of these was the most severe. My -cousin, Captain Moreton, was ten years older than myself; but he had -not yet shown his character fully. My father and myself knew nothing -of it; for though he paid us an annual visit for a week or two, the -greater part of his time was spent either here or in Scotland, where -he had a grand-aunt who doted upon him. One year, when I was just -twenty, while he was on a shooting-party at our house in October, he -asked me to go down with him in the following summer, to shoot grouse -at old Miss Moreton's. I acceded readily; and my father as willingly -gave his consent. We set out on the twenty-fifth of July, and I was -received with all sorts of Scotch hospitality at Miss Moreton's house. -There were many persons there at dinner, and amongst the rest a Miss -Charlotte Hay--" - -"Why do you stop?" asked Dr. Miles. - -"A Miss Charlotte Hay," continued Beauchamp, with an evident effort, -"a very beautiful person, and highly accomplished. She was some four -or five years older than myself, I believe, affecting a romantic style -of thought, feeling, and language. She was beautiful, I have said; but -hers was not the style of beauty I admired, and at first I took but -little notice of her. She sang well, however, and before the first -evening was over, we had talked a good deal--the more, perhaps, as I -found that most of the ladies present, though of no very high station, -nor particularly refined manners, did not seem to love her -conversation. It appeared to me that she was superior to them; and -when I found that, though of good family, her fortune was extremely -limited, and that she had resided with old Miss Moreton for some time, -as something between a friend and a companion, I fancied I understood -the coldness I observed on the part of more wealthy people. Many days -passed over, during which she certainly endeavoured to attract and -captivate me. I was in general somewhat on my guard; but I was then -young, inexperienced, vain, romantic; and though I never dreamed of -making her my wife, yet I trifled away many an hour by her side, -feeling passion growing upon me--mark, I say passion, not love; for -there was much that prevented me from respecting her enough to love -her--a display of her person, a carelessness of proprieties, an -occasional gleam of perverted principle, that no art could hide. Once -or twice, too, I caught a smile passing between her and my cousin -Moreton, which I did not like, and whenever that occurred it recalled -me to myself; but, with weak facility, I fell back again till the day -of my departure approached. Two or three days before the time -appointed--on the eleventh of August, which was my twenty-first -birth-day--Miss Moreton declared she would have a party of her -neighbours to celebrate the event. None of the higher and more -respectable gentry were invited, or, if they were, they did not come. -There were a good many deep-drinking lairds, and some of their wives -and daughters, somewhat stiff in their graver, and hoydenish in their -merrier, moments. It is one of those days that the heart longs for -years to blot out for ever. I gave way to the high spirits which were -then habitual to me. I drank deep--deeper than I had ever before done. -I suffered my brain to be troubled--I know not that there were not -unfair means used to effect it--but at all events, I was not myself. I -recollect personally little that passed; but I have since heard that I -was called upon to choose a wife for the afternoon. I was told it was -the custom of the country, on such occasions, so to do in sport; and -that I fixed, at once, upon this artful girl--in the presence of many -witnesses, I called her wife and she called me husband. The evening -passed over; I drank more wine at supper, and the next morning I found -myself married--for the infamous fraud they called a marriage. In -horror and dismay, I burst away from the wretched woman who had lent -herself to such a base transaction. I sent off my servant at once for -horses to my carriage--I cast Moreton from me, who attempted to stop -and reason with me, as he called it, representing that what had taken -place was a full and sufficient marriage, according to the code of -Scotland, for that public consent was all that was required by their -law." - -"Or by the law of God either," replied Dr. Miles, "but it must be free -and intelligent consent." - -"I travelled night and day," continued Beauchamp, rapidly, "till I had -reached my father's house and thrown myself at his feet. I told him -all--I extenuated, concealed nothing; and I shall never forget either -his kindness or his distress of mind. Instant steps were taken to -ascertain the exact position in which I stood; and the result was -fatal to my hopes of happiness and peace; for not only did he find -that I was entangled past recall, but that the character of the woman -herself was such as might be expected from her having been a party to -so disgraceful a scheme. She had been blighted by scandal before she -took up her residence in the house where I found her. Miss Moreton in -her dotage, yielded herself blindly to my cousin's guidance; and there -was more than a suspicion that he had made his aunt's protection a -veil to screen his own paramour." - -"What did you do? what did you do?" asked Dr. Miles, with more -eagerness than he usually displayed; "it was a hard case, indeed." - -"I went abroad immediately," replied Beauchamp, "for my father exacted -from me a solemn promise, never to live with or to see if it could be -avoided, the woman who had thus become my wife. He used strong and -bitter, but just terms in speaking of her. 'He could not survive the -thought,' he said, 'that the children of a prostitute should succeed -to the title of a family without stain.' My promise was given -willingly, for I will confess that hate and indignation and disgust -rendered her very idea odious to me. My father remained in England for -some months, promising to make such arrangements regarding money--the -base object of the whole conspiracy--that I should never be troubled -any more. He added tenderly, and sadly, though gravely and firmly, -that farther he could do nothing; for that I must bear the -consequences of one great error in a solitary and companionless life. -In consideration of a promise on the woman's part never to molest me, -nor to take my name, he settled upon her the sum of a thousand per -annum. During my father's life I heard no more of her; but when he -himself joined me in Italy, I could see but too plainly how grief and -bitter disappointment had undermined a constitution already shaken. He -did not long survive, and all that I have myself undergone has been -little, compared with the thought, that the consequences of my own -folly served to shorten the days of my kind good parent." - -"But what became of the woman?" demanded Dr. Miles. "You surely have -had tidings of her since." - -"Within a month after my father's death," replied Beauchamp, "I -received from her one of the most artful letters that woman ever -wrote, claiming to be received as my wife. But I will not trouble you -with the details. Threats succeeded to blandishments, and I treated -these with contempt as I had the others with coldness. Then commenced -a new system of persecution; she followed me, attempted to fix herself -upon me. Once she arrived at an inn in the Tyrol as I was getting into -my carriage, and declared before the people round that she was my -abandoned wife. I answered not a word, but ordered the door to be -closed, and the postillions to drive on. Then came applications for an -increased annuity, but I would not yield one step, knowing that it -would but lead to others, and in the end to free myself from every day -annoyance I took the name of Beauchamp, hurried on to the East, -directed my agent to conceal my address from every one, and for -several years wandered far and wide. At length the tidings reached me -that the annuity which had at first been punctually demanded, had not -been applied for. A report, too, reached my lawyer's ears that she had -died in Paris. Still I would not return to claim my rank lest there -should be some deep scheme at work, and I continued in India and Syria -for two years longer. The annuity remained unclaimed. I knew that she -had expensive habits and no means, and I ventured back. I passed a few -months in London without resuming my own name; but the noise and -bustle of the great city wearied me, and I came hither. Inquiries in -the mean time had been made, somewhat languidly, perhaps, to ascertain -the fate of this unhappy woman; but here I saw Isabella Slingsby, and -those inquiries have been since pursued rapidly and strictly. Every -answer tended to one result, and four days ago I received a letter -from my solicitor, informing me that there can be no doubt of her -demise. I will show it to you hereafter, but therein he says that her -effects in Paris had been publicly sold, as those of a person -deceased, to pay the claims of her maid, who had brought forward -sufficient proofs to satisfy the police that her mistress had died in -Italy. The girl herself could not be found, but the lawyers consider -this fact, coupled with the total cessation of claims for the annuity, -as proving the death of Charlotte Hay, and removing all doubt that -this bitter bond is cancelled for ever." - -"That is clear, that is clear," said Dr. Miles, who at this moment was -pausing with his companion at a stile, "and now, I suppose, it is hand -and heart for Isabella Slingsby." - -"Assuredly," said Beauchamp, "but she must be informed of all this; -and it is not a tale for me to tell." - -"Will you have the kindness, Sir," said a voice from the other side of -the hedge, as Beauchamp put his foot upon the first step of the stile, -"to keep on that side and go out by the gate at the corner." - -"Oh, is that you in the ditch, Stephen?" said Beauchamp, "very well, -my good man; one way is as good as the other." - -"I am watching something here, Sir," said the gamekeeper, In a low -voice, "and if you come over, you'll disturb the thing." - -Beauchamp nodded, and went on in the way he directed; and Doctor -Miles, who had been meditating, replied to what he had said just -before the interruption of the gamekeeper. - -"But who else can do it? Sir John is unfit. Me, you would have? Humph! -It is not a pleasant story for even an old gentleman to tell to a -young lady." - -"Yet she must know it," answered Beauchamp; "I will--I can have no -concealment from her." - -"Assuredly, there you are right," replied Doctor Miles, "and I am sure -the dear girl will value your sincerity properly." - -"She can but say that I committed a great error," answered Beauchamp, -"and for that error I have been punished by long years of bitterness." - -"Well, well, I will do my best," answered the rector; "but make your -proposal first, and refer her to me for the story of your life. I will -deal in generals--I will not go into details. That you can do -hereafter if you like." - -Thus conversing they walked on, and soon after reached the cottage of -Stephen Gimlet, where they found Ned Hayward beginning to feel relief -from the operation which the surgeon had performed in the morning. -Beauchamp returned to him the sum which he had received from Miss -Slingsby in the morning, saying, that he had found no necessity for -using it, and Doctor Miles sat down by him, and talked with cheerful -kindness for about a quarter of an hour. Was it tact and a clear -perception of people's hearts that led the worthy clergyman to select -Mary Clifford for one of the subjects of his discourse, and to enlarge -upon her high qualities? At all events he succeeded in raising Captain -Hayward's spirits ere he set out again upon his way homeward. - -When he descended he found Gimlet, the gamekeeper, seated with Widow -Lamb, and the man, as he opened the door, apologised for having -stopped the rector and Mr. Beauchamp at the stile, but did not state -in what he had been so busily engaged. As soon, however, as Doctor -Miles was gone, Ste Gimlet resumed his conversation with Mrs. Lamb, -and it was a low-toned and eager one. From time to time the old lady -bowed her head, saying, "Yes;" but she added nothing to the -monosyllable for some time. At length, however, in answer to something -that her son-in-law said, she exclaimed, - -"No, Stephen, do not speak with him about it. I tried it this morning, -and it had a terrible effect upon him. It seemed to change him -altogether, and made him, so kind and gentle as he is, quite fierce -and sharp. Speak with his friend, Captain Hayward; for neither you nor -I can know what all this may mean. But above all, watch well, for it -is clear they are about no good, and tell me always what you hear and -see, for I cannot help thinking that I know more of these matters than -the young lord does himself--a bitter bond, did he call it? Well, it -may be a bond for the annuity you heard him talk of; but then why does -she not claim it? There must be some object, Stephen." - -The good old lady's consideration of the subject was prevented at that -moment from proceeding further by the entrance of her son Billy Lamb, -who came up and kissed her affectionately. The lad was somewhat pale, -and there was an air of fatigue in his small pinched, but intelligent -countenance, which made his mother hold him to her heart with a -feeling of painful anxiety. Oh! how the affections of a parent twine -themselves round a suffering child! Every care, every labour, every -painful apprehension that he causes us seems but a new bond to bind -our love the more strongly to him. The attachment that is dewed with -tears and hardened with the cold air of sorrow and fear, is ever the -more hardy plant. - -"Sit down, Bill," said Stephen Gimlet, kindly, "you look tired, my -lad. I will get you a draught of beer." - -"I cannot wait, Ste," answered the pot-boy, "for I must be back as -quick as I can; but I can look in to see mother for a minute every day -now. The gentleman who has got the little lone cottage on the edge of -Chandliegh Heath, gives me half-a-crown a week to bring up his letters -and newspapers, and I take the time when all the folks are at dinner -in our house." - -"And get no dinner yourself, poor Bill," said Stephen Gimlet; "cut him -a slice of the cold bacon, mother, and a hunch of bread. He can eat it -as he goes. I'll run and draw him a draught of beer. It won't keep you -a minute, Bill, and help you on too." - -He waited for no reply, but ran with a jug in his hand to the outhouse -where his beer-barrel stood. When he came back the boy drank eagerly, -kissed the old lady again, and then set out with the bread and bacon -in his hand; but Stephen Gimlet walked out with him, and after they -had taken a few steps, he asked, - -"Who is it, Bill, has got the cottage?" - -"I don't know," answered the lad. "A tall, strong man he is, with -large whiskers all the way under his chin, a little grayish. He met me -last night when I took up a parcel from Mr. ---- to Burton's Inn, and -asked if I came that way every day. I said I did not, but could come -if he wanted any thing." - -"But you must know his name if you get his letters, Bill?" said -Gimlet. - -"No, I do not, but I soon can," answered the deformed youth. "He took -me into the cottage, and made the lady give him some paper and a pen -and ink, and wrote a note to the postmaster, and gave me a half-crown, -and said I should have the same every week. The postmaster wrapped up -the letters and things in a bit of paper, and I did not think to look -in; but I can soon find out if you want to know." - -"No," answered Stephen Gimlet, drily, "I know already. Well, Bill, -good bye, I must go about my work," and so they parted. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - - -I beg Captain Moreton's pardon, I left him running across a field in -not the brightest possible night that ever shone. I should, at least, -have taken him safely home before now wherever that home might be, -which would be indeed difficult to say, for the home of Captain -Moreton was what people who pore over long lines of figures call a -_variable quantity_. However, there was once, at least there is -reported to have been once, for I do not take upon myself to answer -for the fact, a certain young person called Galanthis. She was a maid -of-all-work in a very reputable Greek family, and was called as a -witness in the famous crim. con. case of Amphitryon _versus_ Jupiter. -She proved herself very skilful in puzzling an examining counsel, and -there is an old nonsensical story of her having been changed into a -weasel to commemorate the various turnings and windings of her -prevarications. Nevertheless, not this convenient Abigail, nor any of -her pliant race, ever took more turnings and windings than did Captain -Moreton on the night after his escape from his prison in the vestry. -Every step of the country round he knew well, and up one narrow lane, -through this small field, along that wood path, by another short cut, -he went, sometimes walking and sometimes running, till at length he -came to a common of no very great extent, lying half-way, or nearly -so, between the town of Tarningham and the house called Burton's Inn. -The common was called Chandleigh Heath; and on the side next to the -inn was the village of Chandleigh, while between the heath and -Tarningham lay about two miles of well-cultivated but not very -populous fields and meadows. At an angle of the common a retired -hosier of Chandleigh had built himself a cottage--a cottage suited to -himself and his state--consisting of six rooms, all of minute size, -and he had, moreover, planted himself a garden, in which roses strove -with apple-trees and cherries. The hosier--as retired hosiers will -very often do--died one day, and left the cottage to his nephew, a -minor. The guardians strove to let the cottage furnished, but for -upwards of a year they strove in vain; its extremely retired situation -was against it, till one day it was suddenly tenanted, and right glad -were they to get a guinea a week and ask no questions. It was to this -retired cottage, then of the retired hosier, that Captain Moreton's -steps were ultimately bent, and as it had windows down to the ground -on the garden side, he chose that side, and went in at the window, -where, I forgot to remark, there were lights shining. - -At a table in the room, with her foot upon a footstool, and a pillow -behind her back, sat a lady whom we have before described; and -certainly, to look at her face, handsome as it was, no one would have -fancied there was a fierce and fiery spirit beneath, so weak and, I -mar venture to call it, lackadaisical was the expression. - -"Heaven, Moreton, how you startled me!" cried the lady: "where have -you been such a long time? You know I want society at night. It is -only at night I am half alive." - -"Well," said Captain Moreton, with a laugh, "I have been half dead and -half buried; for I have been down into a vault and shut up in a vestry -as a close prisoner. I only got out by wrenching off the bars. Nobody -could see my face, however, so that is lucky; for they can but say I -was looking at a register by candlelight, and the old sexton will not -peach for his own sake." - -"Still at those rash tricks, Moreton," said the lady, "it will end in -your getting hanged, depend upon it. I have been writing a poem called -'The Rash Man,' and I was just hanging him when you came in and -startled me." - -"My rash tricks, as you call them, got you a thousand a year once," -answered Moreton, sharply, "so, in pity, leave your stupid poetry, -Charlotte, and listen to what I have to say." - -"Stupid poetry!" exclaimed the lady, angrily. "There was a time when -you did not call it so; and as for the thousand a year, it was more to -save yourself than to serve me that you fancied that scheme. You know -that I hated the pedantic boy, as virtuous as a young kid, and as -pious as his grandmother's prayer-book. Nothing would have induced me -to marry him if you had not represented--" - -"Well, never mind all that," answered Captain Moreton, interrupting -her. "We have something else to think of now, Charlotte. I don't know -that it would not be better for me to be off, after all." - -"Well, I am ready to go whenever you like," replied the lady. "I am -sure it is not very pleasant to stay in this place, seeing nobody and -hearing nothing; without opera, or concert, or coffee-house, or any -thing. I shall be very glad to go." - -"Aye, aye, but that is a different matter," said Captain Moreton, -considerately. "I said it would be perhaps better for me to be off; -but I am quite sure it would be better for you to stay." - -The lady looked at him for a moment or two with the eyes of a tiger. -If she had had a striped or spotted skin upon her back one would have -expected her to spring at his throat the next minute, but she had -acquired a habit of commanding her passions to a certain point, beyond -which, they indeed became totally ungovernable, but which was not yet -attained; and she contented herself with giving Captain Moreton one of -those _coups de patte_ with which she sometimes treated him. "So, -Moreton," she said, "you think that you can go away and leave me to -take care of myself, as you did some time ago; but you are mistaken, -my good friend. I have become wiser now, and I certainly shall not -suffer you." - -"How will you stop me?" asked her companion, turning sharply upon her. - -"As to stopping you," she replied, with a sneer, "I do not know that I -can. You are a strong man and I am a weak woman, and in a tussle you -would get the better; but I could bring you back, Moreton, you know, -if I did not stop you." - -"How?" demanded he again, looking fiercely at her. - -"By a magistrate's warrant, and half a dozen constables," answered the -lady. "You do not think I have had so much experience of your amiable -ways for nothing, or that I have not taken care to have proofs of a -good many little things that would make you very secure in any country -but America--that dear land of liberty, where fraud and felony find -refuge and protection." - -"Do you mean to say that you would destroy me, woman?" exclaimed -Captain Moreton. - -"Not exactly destroy you," replied his fair companion, "though you -would make a fine criminal under the beam. I have not seen an -execution for I do not know how long, and it is a fine sight, after -all--better than all the tragedies that ever were written. It is no -fun seeing men kill each other in jest: one knows that they come to -life again as soon as the curtain falls; but once hanging over the -drop, or lying on the guillotine, there's no coming to life any more. -I should like to see you hanged, Moreton, when you are hanged. You -would hang very well, I dare say." - -She spoke in the quietest, most sugary tone possible, with a slight -smile upon her lip, and amused herself while she did so in sketching -with the pen and ink a man under a beam with a noose round his neck. -Captain Moreton gazed at her meanwhile with his teeth hard shut, and -not the most placable countenance in the world, as she brought vividly -up before his imagination all those things which crime is too much -accustomed and too willing to forget. - -"And you, Charlotte, you would do this!" he exclaimed, at length: "but -it is all nonsense; and how you ever can talk of such things I cannot -imagine, when I merely spoke of going myself and leaving you for a -short time, for your own good." - -"For my own good! Oh, yes; I have heard all that before, more than -twelve years ago," replied the lady. "I yielded to your notions of my -own good, then, and much good has come of it, to me, at least. So do -not talk of ever separating your fate from mine again, Moreton; for -were you to attempt it, I would do as I have said, depend upon it." - -"It was your own good I thought about," replied Captain Moreton, -bitterly, "and that you will soon see when you hear the whole. Do you -not think if Lenham were to find out that you are living here with me, -there would soon be suits in the ecclesiastical courts for divorce and -all the rest?" - -"Oh, you know, we talked about all that before," replied the lady, -"and took our precautions. You are here as my earliest friend, -assisting me to regain my rights, nothing more. All that was settled -long ago, and I see no reason for beginning it all over again." - -"But there is a reason," answered Captain Moreton, "as you would have -heard before now if you would have let me speak; but you are so -diabolically hasty and violent. I brought you the best news you could -have, if you would but listen." - -"Indeed!" said the lady, looking up from the pleasant sketch she was -finishing with an expression of greater interest, "what may that be?" - -"Why, simply, that Lenham has proposed to Miss Slingsby," replied -Captain Moreton, "and they are to be married directly--as soon as that -fellow, Wittingham, is out of all danger." - -Her eyes flashed at the intelligence, and her lip curled with a -triumphant smile as she inquired, "Where did you hear it? Who told -you? Are you sure?" - -"Quite," answered Moreton, "I had it from old Slattery, the -apothecary, who knows the secrets of all the houses round. He told it -to me as a thing quite certain." - -"Then I have him! Then I have him!" exclaimed his companion, joyfully; -"Oh, I will make him drink the very dregs of a bitterer cup than ever -he has held to my lips." - -"But you must be very careful," said Captain Moreton, "not the -slightest indiscretion--not the slightest hint, remember, or all is -lost." - -"I will be careful," she replied, "but yet all cannot be lost even if -he were to discover that I am alive. He has made the proposal to one -woman when he is already married. That would be disgrace enough to -blast and wither him like a leaf in the winter. I know him well enough -for that. For the first time he has given me the power of torturing -him, and I will work that engine till his cold heart cracks, let him -do what he will." - -"Well, this was the reason I thought it would be better for me to be -off for a short time," said Captain Moreton, "though you must remain -here." - -"I don't see that," cried the lady, "I won't have it." - -Her companion had fallen into a fit of thought, however, as soon as -she had uttered the last words, and he did not seem to attend to her. -His thoughts, indeed, were busy with a former part of their -conversation. He felt that he was, as she said, in her power, and he -saw very well how sweetly and delicately she was inclined to use power -when she did possess it. He therefore asked himself if it might not be -as well to put some check upon her violence before it hurried her into -any thing that could not be repaired; for although Captain Moreton was -fond of a little vengeance himself, yet he loved security better, and -thought it would be poor consolation for being hanged that he had -spoiled all her fine schemes. He was still debating this point in his -own mind, when finding that he did not answer, she said, - -"Do you hear? I say I will not have it, and you had better not talk of -it any more, for if I take it into my head that you are trying to get -off and leave me here, I will take very good care that your first walk -shall be into gaol." - -"In which case," said Captain Moreton, coldly, "I would, by one word, -break the bond between you and Lenham, and send you to prison too. You -think that I am totally in your power, Madam; but let me tell you that -you are in mine also. Our confidence, it is true, has not been mutual, -but our secrets are so." - -"What do you mean?" exclaimed the lady, turning deadly pale. - -"I will tell you," replied her companion, "what I mean may be soon -hinted so that you can understand. When I first became acquainted with -you, my fair friend, you were twenty years of age. There were events -which happened when you were eighteen that you have always thought -comfortably hidden in your own bosom and that of one other. Let me now -tell you that they have never been concealed from me. You understand -me I see by your face, so no more of this. I shall not go because you -do not wish it, and I proposed it only for your good; but now let us -have some brandy-and-water, for the night is wonderfully cold for the -season." - -The lady made no reply, but sat looking down at the table with -her cheek still white, and Moreton got up and rang the bell. A -woman-servant appeared, received his orders, and then went away, and -then turning to his companion, he pulled her cheek familiarly, saying, - -"Come, Charlotte, let us have no more of all this; we had better get -on well together. Have any of the servants been into the room to-night -since I left you?" - -The lady looked up with a sort of bewildered and absent air, saying, - -"No, I think not--let me see. No, no. I have been sitting writing and -sleeping. I fell asleep for an hour, and then I wrote till you came -back. No one has been in, I am sure." - -"While you were asleep they might," said Moreton, thoughtfully. - -"No, no," she answered, "I should have heard them instantly; I wake in -a moment, you know, with the least sound. Nobody has been in the room -I will swear." - -"Then you can swear, too, that I never left it," answered Moreton, -laughing, "I mean that I have been here or hereabouts all night, in -case it should be needed." - -The lady did not seem at all shocked at the proposal, for she had no -great opinion of the sanctity of oaths, and when the servant returned -with all that Captain Moreton had demanded, he asked her sharply, - -"Where were you, Kitty, when I rang about an hour ago?" - -"Lord, Sir," replied the woman, "I had only run across to ask why they -had not sent my beer." - -"Well, I wish you would take some other time for going on such -errands," replied Captain Moreton, and there the subject dropped. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - - -Beauchamp took care to be back at Tarningham Park a full hour and a -half before dinner-time; but schemes and purposes of making love or a -declaration at a certain place and time are never successful. -Continually they are put off, and very often they are forced on by -circumstances, and although there is no event of life perhaps in which -the happy moment is more important, it is seldom met with or chosen. -Such was the case in the present instance: Sir John Slingsby played -third on one occasion, Mrs. Clifford on another, and when Mary, dear -considerate girl, after breaking in for a moment, made a very -reasonable excuse to retire, the dressing-bell rang as she closed the -door, and Beauchamp, knowing that he could not detain Miss Slingsby -more than five minutes, would not attempt to crowd all he had to say -into so short a space. He was resolved to say something, however, and -as Isabella was about to leave him he stopped her, asking if she knew -that her father had invited him to pass the night there. - -"Oh, of course," answered his fair companion in a gay tone, "you do -not think he would let you go to pass the hours of darkness amongst -the Goths and Vandals of Tarningham. He would be afraid of your life -being attempted. You do not think of going?" - -"I have accepted his invitation," answered her lover, "because I have -several things to talk over with Sir John, and on one subject also -with you, dear lady. Will you give me some time in the course of -to-morrow--a few minutes--nay, perhaps, an hour, alone?" - -Isabella coloured and looked away; but she was thankful for a -reprieve from immediate agitation, and she replied in a low tone, -"Certainly--but I must go and dress or my maid will be impatient." - -But Beauchamp still detained her for a moment, "You are an early -riser, I think," he said, "will you take a walk before breakfast--down -towards the stream?--Nay, Isabella, why should you hesitate? Remember, -I have a history to give." - -"I hope not a sad one," answered Isabella, gaily, "for I think I -should be easily moved to tears just now, and I must not return with -my eyes red--nay, Beauchamp, let me go or I shall cry now." - -He released the hand he had taken instantly, and Miss Slingsby took a -step away, but looked round, and returning at once, gave it back -again, saying more gravely, "What is the use of any long history?--and -yet it had better be too. I will take a walk with you when you like, -for I must speak with you too--but not now: there's no time. So -farewell for the present," and she left him. - -The dinner passed more quietly than Sir John Slingsby's dinners -usually did. The baronet's spirits, which had risen immensely after -the first pressure was taken off, fell again during the course of the -day; and for the first time in his life, perhaps, he was grave and -thoughtful throughout the evening. Isabella had her store of -meditations, and so had Mary Clifford. The mother of the latter was -calm and sedate as usual; and Doctor Miles dry and sententious; so -that Beauchamp, happy in what he had done, and happy in the confidence -of love, was now the gayest of the party. Thus the evening passed -away, though not sadly, any thing but very merrily; and the whole -party retired early to rest. - -The next morning early Beauchamp rose and went down to the -drawing-room, but there was nobody there. One of the housemaids just -passed out as he entered, and he waited for about a quarter of an hour -with some impatience, gazing forth from the windows over the dewy -slopes of the park, and thinking in his heart that Isabella was -somewhat long. Now, to say the truth, she was longer than she might -have been, for Isabella had been up and dressed some time; but there -was a sort of hesitation, a timidity, a weak feeling of alarm, -perhaps, which she had never known before. She shrank from the idea of -going down to meet him, knowing that he was waiting for her. It would -seem like a secret arrangement between them, she thought, and she took -fright at the very idea. Then again, on the other hand, she fancied he -might imagine she was treating him ill not to go, after the sort of -promise she had made; then he had been so kind, so generous, so noble, -that she could not treat him ill, nay not even by the appearance of a -caprice. That settled the matter; and, after about a quarter of an -hour's debating with herself, down she went. Her heart beat terribly; -but Isabella was a girl, who, with all her gaiety and apparent -lightness, had great command over herself; and that command in her -short life had been often tried. She paused then for a moment or two -at the door of the drawing-room, struggled with and overcame her -agitation, and then went in with a face cleared, a light step, and a -cheerful air. Her hand was in Beauchamp's in a moment, and after a few -of the ordinary words of a first morning meeting, he asked, "Will you -take a walk, dear Isabella, or shall we remain here?" - -"Do you not see bonnet on my head and shawl over my arm?" she said in -a gay tone; "who would stay in the house on such a bright morning as -this when they have a free hour before them?" - -"Come, then," he answered, and in two minutes more they were walking -away together towards the wooded hill through which they had passed -with Mary Clifford and Hayward about three weeks before. - -It is strange how silent people are when they have much to say to each -other. For the first quarter of a mile neither Beauchamp nor Isabella -said a word; but at length, when the boughs began to wave over their -heads, he laid his hand gently upon hers, and said, - -"I think there can be no misunderstanding, Isabella, as to the words I -spoke the night before last. Nor must you think me possessed of a very -eager vanity if I have construed your reply as favourable to myself. I -know you too well not to feel assured that you would not have so -answered me had you been inclined to decide against my hopes. But yet, -Isabella, I will not and do not consider you as plighted to me by the -words then spoken till--" - -"That is just what I was going to say," replied Isabella, much to -Beauchamp's consternation; "I wished much to speak with you for the -very purpose of assuring you that I do not consider you in the least -bound by what you then said." - -She spoke with a great effort for calmness, but there was an anxious -trembling of the voice which betrayed her agitation, and in the end -she paused for breath. - -"Hear me, hear me," she said, as she saw Beauchamp about to reply; -"since that night every thing has changed. I then thought my father -embarrassed, but I did not know him to be ruined. I looked upon you as -Mr. Beauchamp; I now find you of a rank superior to our own, one who -may well look to rank and fortune in his bride. You, too, were -ignorant of the sad state of my poor father's affairs. It is but fair, -then, it is but right that I should set you entirely free from any -implied engagement made in a moment of generous thoughtlessness; and I -do so entirely, nor will ever for a moment think you do aught amiss if -you consider better, more wisely, I will say, of this matter; and let -all feelings between us subside into kind friendship on your part, and -gratitude and esteem upon mine." - -"You set me free!" said Beauchamp, repeating her words with a smile, -"how can you do so? My dear Isabella, this is treacherous of you, to -talk of setting me free even while you are binding me heart and spirit -to you more strongly than ever. Not one word more upon that subject, -my beloved girl. You must not teach me that you think I am so sordid, -so pitiful a being to let a consideration of mere fortune, where I -have more than plenty weigh with me, for one moment--I am yours, -Isabella, if you will take me--yours for ever, loving you deeply, -truly, aye, and understanding you fully, too, which so many do not: -but it is I who must set you free, dear girl; and I will not ask, I -will not receive any promise till you have heard the story of my past -life." - -"But you must have it," said Isabella, raising her dewy eyes with a -smile, "these things must ever be mutual, my lord. I am yours or you -are not mine. But Beauchamp, we are coquetting with each other; you -tell me you love me; I, like all foolish girls, believe. Surely there -is no need of any other story but that. Do you suppose, Beauchamp, -that after all I have seen of you, after all you have done, I can -imagine for one moment, that there is any thing in the past which -could make me change my opinion or withhold my hand? No, no, a woman's -confidence, when it is given, is unbounded--at least, mine is so in -you, and I need not hear any tale of past days before I bind myself to -you by that tie which, to every right mind, must seem as strong as a -vow." - -"Thanks, dearest girl, thanks!" answered her lover, "but yet you must -hear the story; not from my lips, perhaps, for it will be better -communicated to you by another; and I have commissioned good Dr. Miles -to tell you all, for I would not have it said or thought hereafter, by -your father or by any one, that I have had even the slightest -concealment from you." - -"Not to me! not to me!" said Isabella eagerly, and then added, -laughing, "I will not listen to the good doctor; if there is any thing -that must be said let it be told to my father." - -Beauchamp smiled and shook his head. "You will think me sadly -obstinate and exciting," he said, "but yet you must grant me as a -favour, Isabella, that which I ask. Listen to our worthy friend the -rector. His tale will not be very long; for many sad things may be -told in a few words, and an account of events which have embittered my -whole existence till within the few last days can be given in five -minutes. I will tell Sir John myself, but the reason why I so -earnestly wish you to hear all too, is, that no man can ever judge -rightly of the finer feelings of a woman's heart. We cannot tell how -things which affect us in one way, may affect her; and as there can be -no perfect love without perfect confidence, you must share all that is -in my bosom, in the past as well as in the future." - -"Well," said Isabella, smiling, "as to obey is to be one of my vows, -Beauchamp, I may as well begin my task at once. I will listen to the -good doctor, though I confess it is unwillingly; but still, whatever -he says it will make no difference." - -Beauchamp replied not to what she said; but the conversation took -another and a sweeter turn, and as the words they spoke were certainly -not intended to be repeated to the world I will not repeat them. Time -flies swiftly when love's pinions are added to his own, and Isabella -coloured when passing the windows of the breakfast-room on their -return, she saw the whole party assembled and Mary occupying her usual -post. While Beauchamp entered and took the first fire of the enemy, -she ran up to her room to lay aside her walking-dress; but Sir John -was merciless, and the moment she came in assailed her with an -exclamation of "Ha, ha, young lady! Early walks and morning rambles, -making all your friends believe you have eloped! I hope you have had a -pleasant walk, Isabella, with this noble lord. Pray were you talking -politics?" - -"Profound!" answered his daughter, with a gay air, though she could -not keep the blood from mounting into her cheek. - -"And what conclusion did you come to on the state of affairs in -general?" continued Sir John, looking from Isabella to Beauchamp. "Is -there to be peace or war?" - -"First a truce," answered Beauchamp, "and then a lasting peace, the -terms of which are to be settled by plenipotentiaries hereafter." - -"Oh!" said Sir John Slingsby, now for the first time comprehending how -far matters had proceeded between his daughter and his guest, and -giving up the jest he remained in thought for some time. - -When breakfast was over and the party had risen, Beauchamp at once -took his host's arm, saying, in a low tone, "Before any other -business, I must crave a few moments' conversation, Sir John." - -"Certainly, certainly," said Sir John Slingsby aloud; and while Mary -Clifford put her arm through Isabella's, with a heart full of kindly -wishes and hopes for her cousin, the baronet led his friend into the -library, and their conference commenced. As might be expected, -Beauchamp met no coldness on the part of Sir John Slingsby; but after -a hearty shake of the hand, an eulogium well deserved upon his -daughter, and an expression of his entire satisfaction and consent, -the baronet's ear was claimed for the tale of Beauchamp's previous -life. It did not produce the effect he expected; for although he had -some acquaintance with Sir John's character and habits, he certainly -did not anticipate the bursts of laughter with which the old gentleman -listened to events which had rendered him miserable. But there are two -sides to every thing, and Sir John had all his life taken the risible -point of view of all subjects. He laughed then, heartily declared it -an exceedingly good joke, but no marriage at all; and it was only when -he found that counsel learned in the law had pronounced it to be -valid, that he began to look at the matter more seriously. As soon, -however, as he heard the intelligence which Beauchamp had lately -received from Paris, he started up from his chair, exclaiming, "Well, -then, she is dead and that's an end of it. So now I congratulate you, -my dear lord, and say that the sooner the marriage is over the better. -I shall tell Isabella so, and she has no affectations, thank God. But -come, let us go to her. I must kiss her and give her my blessing." - -The whole conversation had occupied nearly an hour, and when Sir John -Slingsby and Beauchamp entered the drawing-room they found it only -tenanted by Isabella and good Doctor Miles. Her face was uncommonly -serious, one might say sad, and the worthy clergyman's was not gay. - -"What is it, doctor?" cried Sir John Slingsby, "you look as grave as -ten judges. Whose cat is dead?" - -"James Thomson's," said Dr. Miles drily, "and thereupon I wish to -speak with you, Sir John, for I suppose you will attend the funeral." - -"You are a funny fellow, Doctor Miles," replied the baronet; "I'll -talk to you in a minute, but I must first give my daughter a kiss--the -first she has had this morning, for she played truant, and is going to -do so again." So saying, he pressed his lips upon Isabella's cheek, -and whispered a few words that made her colour vary, and then linking -his arm in that of Dr. Miles, led him from the room, leaving his -daughter and her lover alone together. - -Isabella's face looked sadder and graver than Beauchamp had ever seen -it; and to say the truth his heart began to beat somewhat uneasily, -especially as for a moment or two she did not speak, but remained with -her eyes bent down. "Isabella," he said at length, "Isabella, you look -very sad." - -"How can I be otherwise, Beauchamp," asked the fair girl, holding out -her hand to him, "when I have just heard a narrative of events which -have embittered all your life? I grieve for you very truly, indeed, -and sympathise with you as much as a woman can do, with one placed in -circumstances in which she could never find herself. But indeed, -Beauchamp, it shall be the pleasant task of my whole life to make you -forget these past sorrows." - -His hand clasped more warmly upon hers as she spoke, and in the end he -sat down by her on the sofa; his arm glided round her waist and his -lips were pressed upon hers. She had not the slightest touch of Miss -Biron about her, and though she blushed a little she was not horrified -or shocked in the least. - -"Then you do not blame?" he said, "and notwithstanding all this, you -are mine, dearest girl?" - -"Why should I blame you?" said Isabella with a smile, "you were not -the person in fault--except, perhaps, in having drunk too much wine -once in your life; and I suppose that is what all young men do, and -old men too, very often; but the punishment has certainly far exceeded -the offence; and as to being yours, Beauchamp, you know that I am--or -at least will be when you wish it." - -Beauchamp took her at her word, and that evening there were grand -consultations upon many things. Sir John Slingsby was a hasty man, and -he liked every thing done hastily. Love or murder, strife or -matrimony, he would have it over in a hurry. Isabella, Mrs. Clifford, -Mary, were all overruled, and as Beauchamp submitted to his fate as -determined by Sir John without a murmur, the marriage was appointed -for that day fortnight. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - - -How quietly one sits down to tell events in a tale like this, which -made a vast sensation at the time they happened. One reason, I -believe, why half the romances and almost all the histories in the -world are so exceedingly dull, is, that the people who write them do -not believe that the things they record actually happened--no, not -even in their histories. They have a faint idea that it may have been -so--some notion that such matters did very likely take place; but not -that firm conviction, that deep and life-like impression of the -transactions which they relate, that gives vivid identity to the -narrative. There is always a doubt about history, which hangs round -and fetters the mind of the writer, and is even increased by the -accuracy of his research. There is some link in the evidence wanting, -some apparent partiality in the contemporary chronicler, some -prejudice on the part of the near teller of the tale, which casts a -suspicion over all. We cannot cross-examine men who died a thousand -years ago, and we sit down and ask with Pilate, "What is truth?" The -romance-writer has a great advantage. He has the truth within himself. -All the witnesses are there in his own bosom. Experience supplies the -facts which observation has collected, and imagination arrays and -adorns them. In fact, I believe that philosophically speaking, a -romance is much truer than a history. If it be not it will produce but -little effect upon the mind of the reader. The author, however, must -not sit down to write it coolly, as a mere matter of composition. He -must believe it, he must feel it, he must think of nothing but telling -the truth--aye, reader, the truth of the creatures of his own -imagination. It must be all truth to him, and he must give that truth -to the world. As they act, think, speak, in his own mind, so must they -act, think, and speak to the public; and according to his own powers -of imagining the truth, regarding certain characters, so will he tell -a truthful tale or a mere cold fiction. - -All the events which had taken place in Tarningham Park caused less -bustle, though, perhaps, more profound sensations amongst the inmates -of Sir John Slingsby's house than they did in the town and -neighbourhood. How Mrs. Atterbury of the Golden Star--it was a -hosier's shop--did marvel at all that had occurred! and how Miss -Henrietta Julia Thomlinson, the dress-maker, did first shudder at the -thought of Sir John Slingsby's total ruin, and then rejoice with a -glow of joy at the idea of Miss Slingsby's marriage to a peer _of the -realm_. Then, again, there was a little blear-eyed woman with white -cheeks, slightly marked with the small-pox, and a sharp nose of red, -who went about the town with an alarm bell in her mouth, spreading all -manner of stories regarding Sir John Slingsby and the whole of the -family at Tarningham Park. Miss Slingsby was actually sold, she said, -and the money given had gone to clear the baronet of a part of his -incumbrances; but she hinted that there was a heavy load behind and -declared decidedly that she should not like to have money out upon -such security. This lady proved an invaluable ally to Mr. Wharton; for -that gentleman did not stomach his disappointment comfortably. He -looked upon himself as very much ill-treated inasmuch as he had not -been permitted to fleece Sir John Slingsby down to the skin. He made -his own tale good, however, quietly, assured every body that -notwithstanding his own heavy claim, and the great likelihood that -there had existed of his losing many thousands of pounds, he should -never have thought of proceeding against his poor friend if he had not -heard that Mr. Wittingham had determined to arrest him for that heavy -debt. A person calling himself Lord Lenham, he said, had come to Sir -John's assistance, indeed, but he much feared that no assistance would -avail; and perhaps Miss Slingsby, though she was such a cunning -man[oe]uverer, might find herself mistaken, for there was something -suspicious, very suspicious, about some parts of the affair. He did -not wish to say any thing unpleasant, but there was something -suspicious, very suspicious, and people might mark his words if they -liked. - -People did mark his words; and all set to work to inquire what the -suspicious circumstances were, so that what between inquiries and -answers, and hints, and inuendoes, and suspicions, and surmises, and -gossiping suggestions, and doubtful anecdotes, and pure lies, the -little town of Tarningham was kept in a state of most exceeding -chatter and bustle for several days and all day long, except at the -feeding time, when the streets returned to their silent tranquillity, -and not a soul was to be seen but poor little deformed Billy Lamb, -first carrying out his tray of foaming tankards, and then plodding up -the hill with a packet of letters and newspapers. As it is a fine day, -and those large heavy floating clouds give frequently a pleasant -shade, I do not see why we should not follow him up to Chandleigh -Heath. How quick the little fellow's long, disproportioned legs carry -his small round turkey-shaped body. But Billy Lamb must be going to -visit his mother after he has fulfilled his errand, or he would not -walk so fast this warm noontide. It is a round of six miles, yet he -will do it in an hour and a quarter. On my life he is already on the -heath. One can hardly keep up with him; and now he is at the cottage -garden-gate. What strange things poetical ideas are! and how unlike -reality! The poetical idea of a cottage, for instance, is rarely very -like truth. We take it and cover it with roses and surround it with -flowering shrubs. That may be all very well, for there are such -cottages; but then we strip it of all coarse attributes of life; we -take away the evils of poverty, and vulgarity, and vice, and leave it -nothing but content, and natural refinement, and calm innocence. It is -neither the scene of struggles against fortune, cold, fireless, -cheerless, often foodless, with want, smoke, and a dozen of children, -nor the prim false rosewood, bad pianoforted abode of retired -slopsellerism, nor the snug-embowered, back lane residence of the kept -mistress. There is no misery and repining there, no bad English and -gin-and-water, no quiet cabriolets and small tigers, black eyes, -ringlets, flutter, finery, and falsehood. It is all love and -roses--quarter of an acre of Paradise with a small house upon it. Such -is the poetical idea of a cottage. - -Such, however, was by no means the sort of cottage, the garden-gate of -which was now approached by Billy Lamb. It had been built by a coarse, -vulgar man, was inhabited by an arrant scoundrel; and there the arrant -scoundrel was walking in his small domain with the lady whom we have -more than once mentioned. He looked sharply round when he heard the -garden-gate squeak; but was perfectly composed at the sight of the -little pot-boy. The letters and papers he took, and looked at the -covers, and then, with an indifferent air, asked, - -"Well, my lad, what news is stirring in your little town?" - -"Not much, Sir," said Billy Lamb; "only about the marriage of the lord -and Miss Slingsby." - -The lady's eyes flashed unpleasantly, and her companion inquired, - -"Well, what about that?" - -"Nothing, Sir, but that it is to be on Monday week, they say," replied -Billy Lamb; "and all the people are as busy as possible about it, some -talking, and others working hard to get all ready; for Miss Isabella -will have every thing she can made in Tarningham." - -"D--d badly made they will be," answered the gentleman; "and what is -the lord about?" - -"Oh, nothing that I know of, Sir," rejoined the pot-boy, "only all his -people and things are coming down, carriages and horses, and that. The -yard is quite full of them." - -"And so it is to be on Monday week, is it?" rejoined Captain Moreton: -"well, the sooner, the better." - -"Yes, yes," cried the lady, "and he may have guests at his marriage -that he does not expect." - -She spoke with an ungovernable burst of feeling, before her male -companion could stop her; and the boy suddenly raised his clear, -intelligent eyes to her countenance, discovering there legible traces -of all the furious passions that were at work in her bosom. - -"Oh, yes," cried Moreton, endeavouring to give another turn to her -indiscreet words, and pressing her arm tight as a hint to hold her -tongue; "doubtless the whole town and neighbourhood will be there to -see." - -"Oh, dear, yes, Sir," answered Billy Lamb; "though they say they wish -it to be quite private. Good morning, Sir," and he walked away with a -careless air, closing the garden-gate behind him. - -"Ha, ha, ha!" exclaimed the worthy captain, laughing aloud; "this is -capital, Charlotte. You see our trout has bit at the fly." - -"And I have got the hook in his jaws," said the lady, bitterly. - -"Yes," rejoined Captain Moreton; "and it is now high time that we -should consider, how we may play our fish to be best advantage. First -of all, of course, the marriage must take place, or he will slip off -your hook, my fair lady; but after that comes the game; and I think it -would be much better to make no great noise even afterwards, but to -give him proof positive of your existence; and, by working upon his -apprehensions, and laying him under contribution, we may drain him dry -as hay." - -"I will have revenge," cried the lady, fiercely; "I care for nought -else, but I will have revenge; I will make him a public scoff and a -scorn; I will torture him in a court of justice; I will break his -proud heart under the world's contempt--try not to stop me, Moreton, -for I will have revenge. You think of nothing but money; but vengeance -will be sweeter to me, than all the gold of earth." - -"There are different sorts of revenge," answered Moreton, quietly; -"and, depend upon it, that which I propose is much more terrible. Once -he is married, and quietly informed that you are still living, think -what pleasant tortures he would undergo, year after year, as long as -you pleased. You would stand behind him like an unseen, but not unfelt -fate, shadowing his whole existence with a dark cloud. Every hour he -would live in terror of discovery, and shame, and punishment. He would -never see a stranger, or receive a letter, without the hasty fears -rising up in his heart. He would picture to himself the breaking up of -all his domestic joys; he would see 'bastard' written on the face of -every child; and his heart would wither and shrivel up, I tell you, -like a fallen leaf in the autumn. Sleep would be banished from his -bed; appetite from his table; cheerfulness from his hearth; peace from -his whole life. Even the sweet cup of love itself would turn to poison -on his lips; and our vengeance would be permanent, perpetual, -undecaying. This is the sort of revenge for me!" - -"It does not suit me!" cried the lady; "It does not suit me; I will -have it at once; I will see him crushed and withering; I will feast my -eyes upon his misery. No, no; such slow, silent vengeance for the -cold-blooded and the calm. I tell you, you shall not stop me," she -continued, fiercely, seeing that he listened to her with a degree of -chilling tranquillity, which she did not love. "You may take what -course you will; but I will take mine." - -"Excellent!" said Captain Moreton, sneeringly; "excellent, my gentle -Charlotte; but let me just hint, that we must act together. You can do -nothing without me; I can stop it all at a word. Pray, recollect a -little hint I gave you the other night; and now, that the moment is -come for drawing the greatest advantages from that, which we have been -so long labouring to attain, do not drive me to spoil all your plans, -by attempting to spoil mine." - -"Ha!" said the lady; "ha!" but she proceeded no further; and, sinking -into herself, walked up and down musingly for several minutes, at the -end of which time she began to hum snatches of an Italian song. -Captain Moreton, who knew well her variable humours, thought that the -mood was changed; but he was mistaken. He had planted that, of which -he was to reap the fruit ere long. - -In the meantime, the boy Billy Lamb, having closed, as we have said, -the garden-gate, lingered for a moment, and then took his way across -the common in the direction of Stephen Gimlet's house, which was at -the distance of about a mile and a half. He went at a quick pace, but -two or three times he stopped, and thought deeply. He was an observing -boy, and saw and heard more than people imagined. He was a boy of very -strong feelings also, and he had conceived a strong affection for -Beauchamp, which made any thing that affected that gentleman a matter -of deep interest to him. Thus, the first time he stopped he repeated -to himself the incautious words the lady had uttered, syllable for -syllable. "He may have guests at his marriage he does not expect," -said the boy, meditating. "She looked mighty fierce too. I wonder what -she meant? No good, I'm sure, by the way her eyes went." - -He then walked on again about half a mile further; and this time it -was a narrow lane he halted in. "You see, our trout has bit at the -fly!" repeated Billy Lamb, evidently showing that he had heard a part, -at least, of what had passed after he left the garden; "that trout he -talked of must be Mr. Beauchamp--that's to say, the lord. I can't make -it out. I'll tell Stephen: he seems to know a good deal about them -all; or that good, kind Captain Hayward. He's a great friend of this -lord's, and will let him know; for they mean him harm, or I am -mistaken." - -When he reached Stephen Gimlet's cottage, however, and opened the -door, he found the outer room only tenanted by the little boy, who was -standing upon a stool, looking over the pages of a large, old Bible, -illustrated with some grotesque engravings, in which Adam and Eve, -very naked, indeed, the serpent, with a human head in large curls, -very much like that of a Chancery barrister; the same personage, in -the conventional form of a satyr, together with a number of angels; -and Noah's ark with all its beasts figured conspicuously. - -In turning his head sharply round to see who it was that came in, the -child let fall the leaves that were in his hand upon those opposite; -and instantly out flew an old time-stained scrip of paper, which made -a gyration in the air before it reached the floor. The boy instantly -darted after it, and picked it up before Billy Lamb could see what it -was. The pot-boy would then have taken it out of his hand; but the -other would not give it up, saying, with a screaming tone, - -"No, no, no! it is granny's;" and the same moment the voice of Widow -Lamb was heard from the inner room, demanding, - -"Who have you got with you there, child?" - -"It is I, mother," answered the deformed boy. "Is Stephen in? I want -to speak with him." - -"No, my poor William," answered the old lady, coming forth, and -embracing her son; "he has been out a long while." - -"Then, is Captain Hayward upstairs?" asked the youth. - -"He is out too," answered the widow. "He was out yesterday for the -first time, and to-day we have had a grand party here, all the ladies -in the carriage, and Mr. Beauchamp walking. Mrs. Clifford came so -kindly to ask after me, and so they persuaded Captain Hayward to go -out with them. That is to say, Captain Hayward and Miss Mary, and Miss -Slingsby with my Lord Lenham. They've gone all up to the hall; Mrs. -Clifford in the carriage, and the rest on foot; and I should not -wonder, Bill, if Captain Hayward did not come back here again?" - -"That is unfortunate!" exclaimed Billy Lamb; "I wanted so much to -speak with him, or Stephen." - -"Why, what is the matter, my dear boy?" said his mother; "if you will -tell me what it is, I will let Stephen know when he comes back." - -"Why, the matter is this, mother," answered the deformed boy, "Stephen -was asking me a great deal the other day about the gentleman who has -got the cottage on Chandleigh Heath, and what his name is. Now, I have -found out his name, and it is Captain Moreton." - -"Have nought to do with him, Bill!" cried the widow; "have nought to -do with him! He is a base villain, and has ruined all who have had any -connexion with him." - -"Why, I have nought to do with him, mother," answered Billy Lamb, "but -carrying him up his letters and newspapers; but I heard something -there to-day that I thought Stephen might like to know; for I am sure -he and the lady he has with him are plotting things to hurt this lord, -who was so kind to poor Ste." - -"Ha! what did you hear?" asked the old lady, "that concerns me more -than Stephen, for I know more about that lady." - -"She does not seem a very sweet one," answered the boy; "for when I -told the captain about Lord Lenham going to be married to Sir John's -daughter, she looked as if she had a great inclination to scratch -somebody's eyes out." - -"Going to be married to Sir John's daughter!" exclaimed Widow Lamb. -"Bill, are you sure that's true?" - -"Quite sure. Haven't you heard of it?" said the boy. "All the people -in Tarningham know it quite well; and a quantity of things are -ordered." - -Widow Lamb mused gravely for several minutes; and then, shaking her -head, said in a low voice, as if to herself: - -"I begin to understand. Well, what more did you hear, Billy?" - -"Why, after a little talk," said the boy, "when they heard that the -marriage was to be on Monday-week, the lady cried out, 'He will have -guests at his wedding that he does not expect!' and her eyes looked -just like two live coals. She did not say much more; for the captain -tried to stop her; but, as soon I had got through the garden-gate, I -heard him laugh quite heartily, and say out loud, 'This is capital, -Charlotte; you see our trout has bit at the fly.'" - -"And so, they have been angling for him, have they?" said Widow Lamb; -"what more, my boy?" - -"Why, I did not like to stop and listen, mother," said the poor -deformed boy; "but I thought it could not be all right; and, -therefore, I made up my mind that I would tell Stephen, or Captain -Hayward, or somebody; for that Mr. Beauchamp, who has turned out a -lord, was always very kind to me when he was at the inn, and gave me -many a shilling; and I should not like to do them any harm, if I can -stop it; and I could see they were wonderfully bitter against him, by -the way of that lady and her husband." - -"He is not her husband," said Widow Lamb, with a scoff; "but that -matters not, Bill; you are a good boy, and have done quite right; and, -perhaps, it may save much mischief; so that will be a comfort to you, -my son. I'll tell Stephen all about it, when he comes back; and we'll -talk the thing over together this very night, and see what can be -done. It is strange, very strange, Billy, how things turn out in this -world. Great people do not always know, when they do a kind action to -poor people and humble people like ourselves, that they may be helping -those, who will have the best means of helping them again. Now, from -what you have told me, Bill, I may have the means of helping this good -lord from getting himself into a terrible scrape. I am sure he does -not know all, my boy; I am sure a great number of things have been -concealed from him; and your telling me may set it all to rights." - -"Well, that's pleasant," answered the deformed boy. "It makes one very -lightsome, mother, to feel that one has been able to do any thing to -serve so good a gentleman; and so I shall go home quite gay." - -"That you may, Bill," replied his mother; "but bring me up news of any -thing you may hear; for you can't tell what may be of consequence, and -what may not." - -The boy promised to obey, and went away whistling one of the peculiar -melodies, of which he was so fond; in which, though the air was gay, -there was ever an occasional tone of sadness, perhaps proceeding from -a profound, though concealed, impression of melancholy regarding his -corporeal infirmities. - -It was late in the evening before Stephen Gimlet returned; but then -Widow Lamb entered into instant consultation with him upon what she -had heard; and their conference lasted far on into the night. - -The next morning early the gamekeeper got his breakfast, and then -putting on his hat, said, - -"Now, I'll go, Goody Lamb. I shall be very awkward about it, I dare -say, but I don't mind; for he will find out in the end, that it is for -his own good I talk to him about such disagreeable things. So, here -goes." - -"You had better wait awhile, Stephen," said the widow; "most likely -he is not up yet; for it is not seven o'clock." - -"It will be well nigh eight before I am there," answered Stephen -Gimlet, "and I can wait at the house till he is ready." - -Thus saying, he walked away, and trudged on over the fields till he -came into Tarningham Park, by the road which leads over the hill just -above the house. He did not follow the carriage-drive, however, but -took the shorter path through the chestnut-trees, and in about ten -minutes, after entering the gates, saw the house. There was a -travelling-carriage standing before the hall-door, which was at the -distance of a quarter of a mile, and hardly had Stephen Gimlet's eyes -rested on it for an instant, when a servant got up behind, and the -post-boy laid his whip light over his horses. The carriage rolled on, -and the gamekeeper followed it with his eyes, with a feeling of -misgiving; but he pursued his way to the house notwithstanding, and -entering by the offices, asked the first servant he met, if he could -speak for a moment with Lord Lenham. - -"That you can't, Ste," answered the man, "for he has just gone off to -London. He will not be down for a week either, they say; and then -comes the wedding, my lad, so that you have a poor chance of talking -with him till the honeymoon is over." - -Stephen Gimlet looked down perplexed; and then, after a moment's -thought, he said, "Ay, there is to be a wedding, is there? I heard -something about it. He is a kind good gentleman as ever lived, and I -hope he may be very happy." - -"I dare say he will now," said the footman, "for our young lady is fit -to be the wife of a king, that she is. But as one marriage made him -very unhappy, for a long time, it is but fit that another should cure -it." - -"Then do you mean to say he has been married before?" asked the -gamekeeper. - -"Ay, that he has," replied the servant, "none of our people, not even -Sir John's gentleman, nor any one, knew a word about it till I found -it out. I'll tell you how it was, Ste. The day before yesterday -morning the butler says to me, 'I wish, Harrison, you'd just clear -away the breakfast things for I've got the gout in my hand'--he has -always got the gout, you know, by drinking so much ale, besides wine. -Well, when I went into the breakfast-room after they were all gone, I -saw that the door into the library was a little ajar; but I took no -notice, and Dr. Miles and Sir John went on talking there and did not -hear me at all in t'other room. I could not tell all they said; but I -made out that my Lord Lenham had been married a long time ago, but -that the lady had turned out a bad un, and that they had lived apart -for many years, till the other day my lord heard from Paris she was -dead, and then he proposed to Miss Isabella. Dr. Miles said something -about not hurrying the marriage, but the jolly old barrownight said -that was all stuff, that he would have a wedding before a fortnight -was over, and he'd broach two pipes of port and fuddle half the -county." - -"And when is it to be then?" asked Stephen Gimlet; but the man's reply -only confirmed what he had heard before, and with by no means a well -satisfied countenance, the gamekeeper took his way across the park -again, murmuring to himself as soon as he got out into the open air, -"Goody Lamb was right! They've cheated him into believing she is dead. -That is clear. There is some devilish foul work going on; and how to -manage I don't know. At all events I'll go back and talk to the old -woman, for she has a mighty clear head of her own." - -As he walked on he saw our friend Ned Hayward strolling slowly along -at a distance, and he felt a strong inclination to go up and tell him -all he had been going to tell Beauchamp; but then he reflected that he -had no right to divulge what he knew of the latter gentleman's secrets -to another who might not be fully in his confidence. Besides, Ned -Hayward was not alone. There was the flutter of a lady's garments -beside him, and he seemed in earnest conversation with his fair -companion. They were not indeed walking arm-in-arm together, but they -were very close to one another, and as Stephen Gimlet paused -considering, he saw the lady's head frequently raised for a moment as -if to look in her companion's face, and then bent down again as if -gazing on the ground. - -The gamekeeper judged from these indications that they were -particularly engaged, and would not like to be disturbed, and taking -that with other motives for not going near them, he walked back to his -own cottage where he found Widow Lamb with her large Bible open before -her. - -Gimlet's story was soon told, and his mother-in-law seemed as puzzled -as he did for a time. He then suggested for her consideration whether -it might not be as well to convey the intelligence they possessed to -Captain Hayward or Sir John Slingsby; but Widow Lamb exclaimed, at -once, - -"No, Stephen, no! we might make mischief with the intention of doing -good. We must wait. He will come back before the marriage-day and you -must see him then. I will go up with you and talk to him myself; for I -have much to say that I will only say to himself." - -"But suppose we should not be able to see him?" said Stephen Gimlet, -"or if any thing should prevent his coming till the very day?" - -"Then, I suppose we must speak to some one else," replied his -step-mother, "but do not be afraid, Stephen. Leave it all to me." - -Stephen Gimlet was afraid, however; for he was one of those -unfortunate eager people who when they take the interests of another -to heart are never satisfied till they see those interests perfectly -secure. He had all his life, too, been accustomed to manage every -thing for himself, to rely upon no one, to trust to his own mind and -his own exertions for the accomplishment of every thing he desired. It -is an unlucky habit which makes people very uneasy when once they -contract it, which trebles both their anxieties and their labours; for -there is not above one-third, in ordinary circumstances, of any thing -that a man requires to do which can be done by his own hands, in the -complicated state of society in which we live; but still Stephen -Gimlet had that habit, and like an old coachman, he was not easy when -the reins were in the hands of another. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - - -And what were Ned Hayward and Mary Clifford talking about? Wait one -minute, and you shall hear all about it; but first let me pause to -make only one remark. I have observed during some acquaintance with -life, and a good deal of examination into all its curious little -byways and narrow alleys, that the conversation which takes place -between two people left alone to talk together, without any witnesses -but green fields and bowery trees, is never, or at least very seldom, -that which any one, even well acquainted with them, would have -anticipated from a previous knowledge of their characters. It was an -extremely right, just, and proper view of the case, that was taken, -when people (I do not know who), decided that three forms a -congregation. We all know it: we all feel it instinctively. Three is a -congregation; and when we speak before a congregation, we speak to a -congregation. - -But Mary Clifford and Ned Hayward were alone together; and now a word -or two upon the frame of mind in which they met. Ned Hayward, since -first we introduced him to our readers, had taken a great part in many -things where Mary Clifford was concerned. He had first made her -acquaintance in rescuing her gallantly from the brutal and shameless -attempt to carry her off, of a man whom she detested. He had told her -kindly and frankly of her uncle's embarrassed and dangerous situation. -He had without the slightest ostentation offered the means of -relieving him from the most pressing of his difficulties, and had gone -up to London to accomplish what he offered, with a mixture of delicacy -of feeling and gay open-hearted readiness, which doubled the value of -all he did. He had come down again, fought a duel with the man who had -insulted her, received a severe wound, suffered, and put himself to -great inconvenience; and then had been found prepared at the moment of -need, to redeem his given word in her uncle's behalf, without -hesitation or reluctance, though evidently at a great sacrifice. - -Nevertheless, all these things might have gone no further than the -mind, even with a calm, gentle, feeling creature like herself. -Gratitude she could not have avoided entertaining under such -circumstances, respect, very high esteem; but she might have felt -nothing more had that been all. There was a great deal more, however. -Ned Hayward had disappointed all Mary Clifford's preconceived ideas of -his character; and had gone on growing upon her regard every hour. She -had found him thoughtful, where she had believed him to be heedless; -feeling, where she had expected him to be selfish; full of deep -emotions, where she had fancied him light; well-informed and of -cultivated tastes, instead of superficial and careless; and being -imperatively called upon to do him justice in her own heart, she went -on and did perhaps something more. But still this was not all; he had -first excited wonder, curiosity, and pleasure, then admiration and -esteem, then interest and sympathy. Tie all these up in a parcel, with -gratitude for great services rendered, and a great number of musings -regarding him in silence and in solitude, and what will be the result? -Day by day after the duel she had thought of him--perhaps, I might -have said, night after night. Then, when she had seen him again, and -knew him to be ill and suffering, she had thought of him with deeper -feelings still, and even oftener than before; and when at length he -came over with reviving health, and took up his abode in the same -house with herself, she returned to her old manner of thinking of him, -with a number of new sensations blending in her meditations; and she -fancied that she was studying his character all the while. What was it -that she compared it to? She thought it was like a deep beautiful -valley, so full of sunshine, that no eye, but one very near, could see -the fair things that it contained. I do not know what all this was, -readers; but I think it looked very like falling in love. - -Nevertheless, though these things might cause Mary Clifford to love -Edward Hayward, the reader may suppose that they afforded no reason -why he should love her--but that is a mistake. Love is like a cast and -a mould, where there is an impression upon both, different, yet -representing the same object. Love at first sight--love which springs -merely from the eye, is a thing apart; but love which proceeds from -acts and words and looks, is generally, though not always, -conscientious. The very deeds, which performed towards another, beget -it in that other, beget it also in ourselves. A woman is cherished and -protected. She loves the being who does cherish and protect her, -because he does; and he loves her because he cherishes and protects. -Ned Hayward had thought Mary exquisitely beautiful from the first; but -that would not have been enough--he was not a doll fancier! But her -conversation pleased him, her gentle sweetness charmed him, her -situation and all that it produced between them interested him, -and ... But he had thoroughly made up his mind not to fall in love; -and that was all that was wanting to make the thing complete. There -was only one difficulty or objection. Mary Clifford had, what was -called in those days, a large fortune. The dean, her father, had been -a wealthy and a prudent man; and he had left her about two thousand a -year, her mother's jointure not included. Now, Ned Hayward had, as the -reader knows, very little from the beginning; that little was now -still less; and he had determined to hate all heiresses. Hate Mary -Clifford! Pooh, pooh, Ned Hayward! - -However, a certain undefinable sensation of being very far gone in -love--the perception of feeling she had never experienced before, had -made him very sad and uneasy for the last five or six days. He would -have run away if he could; for he thought there was only safety in -flight. But he could not go. He was not well enough to take a long -journey; and he had promised Beauchamp to stay for his marriage. But -marriage is an infectious disease; and even in its incipient stages, -it is catching. Ned Hayward thought a great deal of marriage during -those five or six days, of what a lucky man Beauchamp was, and of how -happy he would be if he had only a tithe of his wealth--with Mary -Clifford. But Ned Hayward was not a man to find himself in a difficult -and dangerous situation without facing it boldly. He felt, that he had -suffered himself to be entangled in a very tough sort of the tender -passion, and he resolved to break through the net, and, in fact, quit -Tarningham-house as soon as possible. But a few days remained to be -passed ere that appointed for Beauchamp's marriage; and he fancied he -could very well get through that short period without any further -danger or detriment. "He would see as little of Mary Clifford as -possible," he thought; "he would employ himself in reading, in walking, -in riding out with Sir John, as soon as he was strong enough;" and -thus, as usual with all men, he proposed to do a thousand things, -that he never did at all; and consoled himself with resolutions that -could not be executed. - -On the day of Beauchamp's departure for London, Ned Hayward rose -early, breakfasted with his friend, saw him off, and then, according -to the plan he had proposed, walked out into the fine sunny morning -air, intending to spend the greater part of the summer day in some of -the cool and more retired parts of the park. - -It was, at least, two hours before the usual time of breakfast; -he had not an idea that any of the family was up; and thus pursuing -one of the gravel walks away from the house, he went in among the -chestnut-trees, and strolled on, fancying himself perfectly alone in -the woods, when suddenly, in taking a turn, the path showed him the -fair face and graceful form of Mary Clifford advancing towards him at -the distance of about fifty or sixty paces. To avoid her, of course, -was quite out of the question; but Ned Hayward resolved, that he would -only speak to her for a moment, and then go on. But, Heaven knows how -it happened; in about two minutes he might be seen turning round with -her; and their walk continued for nearly an hour and a half. - -"Well, Miss Clifford," he said, with as gay a look as he could -command, "Beauchamp is gone. Have you been taking a long walk?" - -"No, not very far," answered Mary, "I saw some strange people crossing -the park; and ever since that adventure which first made us acquainted -with each other, I have become very cowardly. I therefore turned back; -otherwise I should have much enjoyed a ramble for I have a slight -headache." - -What could Ned Hayward do under such circumstances? He could not avoid -offering to escort and protect Miss Clifford--he could not even -hesitate to propose it. Mary did not refuse; but her yes, was timidly -spoken; and, instead of turning back with Ned Hayward through the wild -wood walks, she made him turn back with her, and led him to the more -open parts of the park, where the house was generally in sight. - -A momentary silence had fallen over both before they issued forth from -under the chestnut-trees; and each felt some awkwardness in breaking -that silence: the surest possible sign of there being very strong -feelings busy at the heart; but Mary felt that the longer the silence -continued, the more awkward would it become, and the more clearly -would it prove that she was thoughtful and embarrassed; and therefore -she spoke at random, saying, - -"What a beautiful day it is for Lord Lenham's journey. I envy him the -first twenty miles of his drive." - -"I envy him in all things," answered Ned Hayward; "his life may, and, -indeed, seems likely to be made up of beautiful days; and I am very -sure that mine is not." - -"Nay, Captain Hayward," said Mary, raising her eyes gently to his -face, and shaking her head with a smile, "you are in low spirits and -unwell, otherwise you would never take so bright a view of your -friend's fate, and so dark a one of your own. Many a fair and -beautiful day may be, and ought to be, in reserve for you. Indeed, -they must be; for your own heart lays up, by the acts it prompts, a -store of sunshine and brightness for the days to come." - -"May it not rather lay up, by the feelings it experiences, a store of -bitterness and sorrow, of clouds and darkness?" asked Ned Hayward, in -a tone so different from that he commonly used, that Mary started, -gazed for a moment at him, and then, letting her eyes fall again as -they met his, first coloured slightly, and then turned pale. By the -marks of emotion which she displayed, Ned Hayward was led to believe, -that he had spoken too plainly of what he had never intended to touch -upon at all; and he hastened to repair the error. - -"What I mean is simply this, my dear Miss Clifford," he said; "a man -who enjoys himself very much--as I do--feels pain in the same -proportion, or perhaps more keenly. Every source of pleasure is an -inlet to pain, and as we go on continually in this world, losing -something dear to us, day by day, I am occasionally inclined to envy -those cold phlegmatic gentlemen who, with a very tolerable store of -pleasures, have few pains but corporeal ones. I never pretend to be a -very sentimental person, or to have very fine feelings, or any thing -of that sort; but now as an instance of what I was speaking of, I -cannot think of quitting this beautiful spot, and all the friends who -have shown me so much kindness, as I must do on Monday next, without a -sort of sinking at the heart, which is very unpleasant." - -"You do not mean to say you are going on Monday!" exclaimed Miss -Clifford, pausing suddenly, with the colour varying in her cheek. - -Ned Hayward was surprised and pleased; for there was no attempt to -conceal that his staying or going was a matter of interest to her. He -answered, however, gravely, even sadly, - -"I fear I must." - -"But you have forgotten your promised visit to us at Hinton," said -Mary, reproachfully, and deadly pale; "you promised to come, you know; -I have counted upon that visit as affording an opportunity of settling -how and where, when I come of age, which will now be in a few months, -the money you so generously lent me, can be repaid.--Indeed," she -added, earnestly, "you must come there for a few days, even if you do -not stay here." - -There was a tenderness, a tremulous softness in her tone, a slight yet -sufficiently marked agitation in her manner, which made Ned Hayward's -heart beat. - -"Can I be beloved?" he asked himself. "Can she return the feelings she -has inspired? I will soon know!--My dear Miss Clifford," he replied, -"I fear that visit would prove more dangerous to me than this has -been; and, therefore, however unwillingly--however great would have -been the delight, I must decline it." - -Mary Clifford looked down without uttering a word; but her cheek -remained pale, her lip quivered as if she would fain have given voice -to some reply; and though her arm was not in his, he could feel that -she trembled. Ned Hayward's heart beat too; but there was, as we have -often seen before, a frankness, a straightforward simplicity in his -habitual course of action, which overleaped many a difficulty that -would have baffled other men. - -"Let me explain," he said, but Mary made a slight motion with her -hand, saying, - -"Oh, no, no!" in a faint tone, and then she repeated the word -"dangerous!" - -"Yes," he said, "more dangerous, dear Miss Clifford! Can you not -conceive how and why?--In a word, then, I cannot and must not stay -with you longer. I must by as speedy a return as possible to other -occupations, make an effort to forget that I have ever seen one, whom -I fear I have already known too long for the peace of my whole life." - -He paused for a moment with a sigh, raised his head high the next -instant, and then added, "I have but one favour to ask you, which is -this--not to let what I have just said make any difference in your -demeanor towards me, during the short period of my stay. I had no -intention of troubling your ear with such things at all; but your own -question brought forth what I would willingly have concealed--perhaps -in this I have been wrong; but believe me, I am very well aware that -difference of fortune has placed a barrier between us which cannot be -overleaped. This is the only favour, then, dear lady--do not alter -towards me--let me see you ever the same as I have yet beheld you; and -when I go away for ever, let me carry with me the remembrance of Mary -Clifford as a picture of all that deserves love and admiration upon -earth.--Do not, do not change, notwithstanding my rash confessions." - -Mary Clifford looked up in his face, and a varying light played in her -eyes, as if, at one moment, it was about to break forth sportively, -and at another would have drowned itself out in tears. - -"I must change, Hayward!" she said at length, with a bright smile upon -her lip, "indeed you ask too much. How can you expect that I should -live in the same house with you, and know that you love me, without -showing in some degree what is passing in my own breast?" - -"Mary! Mary!" he exclaimed, laying his hand upon her arm, and gazing -in her face, "you would not--oh, I am sure you would not trifle with -me--" - -"Not for the world," she answered. "Edward, I am incapable of trifling -with any man; but with you, to whom I owe so much, it would be base -indeed!" - -"But the great disparity of fortune," said her lover, with the shade -again upon his brow. "Oh, Mary, how can it ever be? You, I have heard, -are wealthy--they call you 'the heiress'--and I know myself to be -poor. Are you aware--surely I told you, that all I had saved out of -the wreck of my father's fortune, only amounted at first to--" - -"Will you pain me?--Do you wish to grieve me?" asked Mary Clifford, -"if not, do not mention such matters as in any way likely to affect my -feelings or conduct; and yet I do not wish you to consider me as a -romantic girl, for I am not. I have always thought that a competence -must be possessed to render the lives of any two people happy; but -surely it matters not on whose side that competence comes. We shall -have enough, Edward, for happiness, and though I know it would have -been more pleasure to yourself if the greater part of our little -fortune had been brought by you, yet I am very glad that _I_ have it, -as you have not." - -"But your mother--your guardian, Mary?" said Ned Hayward, still in a -doubtful tone. - -Mary laughed, but with a slight touch of vexation in the tone; and she -exclaimed, - -"I do believe he will not have me, even when I have almost offered -myself to him!" - -But Ned Hayward would not lie under that imputation, and he cast his -arms round his fair companion, assuring her that if she had the wealth -of the world, the only portion he would value would be herself. - -Mary freed herself gently from his embrace; and suffering him to draw -her arm through his, walked on with him till the breakfast hour was -fully come. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. - - -It is strange how we all go grinding the fate of each other in this -world, high and low, rich and poor, the cottage tenant and the lord of -the mansion, all jostling each other, and without knowing it, each -making his fellow take a step this way or that, which very much -influences the onward path. All was cheerfulness and gaiety at -Tarningham Park. Mary Clifford had assured Ned Hayward that her -mother's consent would not only be given, but given cheerfully, that -her guardians, whose period of rule was so nearly at an end, would -raise no objection, and that all who loved her would be glad to see -her the promised bride of one so well worthy of esteem. Nor was her -promise unaccomplished; for good Mrs. Clifford was delighted. Ned -Hayward had ever been a great favourite of hers ever since he had come -to her rescue in Tarningham-lane. The guardians were quite quiescent, -replying to the letter of announcement, that whatever Miss Clifford -judged for her own happiness and received her mother's consent, would -insure their approbation. Sir John was in an ecstasy, and Isabella in -the midst of her own happiness, felt happier still at that of her -cousin. Daily letters were received from Beauchamp all breathing joy -and hope, and though lawyers were troublesome and men of business -dilatory, yet not one word was said, not one thought seemed to be -entertained of any real danger or difficulty. - -All then was cheerfulness and gaiety at Tarningham Park, and not one -of its inmates had the slightest idea of the anxiety and alarm which -were felt for them in a cottage not far off. Every morning and every -evening long consultations were held between Widow Lamb and her -son-in-law regarding the fate of Mr. Beauchamp, and just in proportion -to their ignorance of the habits of the world were the difficulties -that presented themselves to their imaginations. Stephen Gimlet was -anxious to act in some direction. Mr. Beauchamp, as he still -frequently called him, being absent, he thought it would be better to -say all that they had to say, to Sir John Slingsby, or at all events -to Captain Hayward; but on the contrary his mother-in-law, with longer -experience, a disposition naturally timid and cautious, and upon the -whole better judgment, insisted that it might be wrong or dangerous to -do so. - -"You cannot tell, Stephen," she said, "what this good young lord has -told them and what he has not. We cannot even be sure how this woman -stands with him. He may have divorced her for ought we know. I am sure -her conduct has always been bad enough; and if such should be the case -we might make the poor young lady unhappy when there is no need. -Nobody even can guess at all the mischief that might happen. No, no, -you watch closely for the young lord's coming back, and as soon as -ever he is here, you and I will go up and speak to him. He must be -back in time for that, and I dare say he will come on Saturday night, -so there will be plenty of time." - -It was one of Stephen Gimlet's maxims, and a very good one, too, that -there never is plenty of time; but he carried the matter somewhat too -far, for he thought one could never do too much. Now that is a very -great mistake; for in love, politics, and ambition, as in the roasting -of a leg of mutton, you can remedy the _meno_, but you cannot remedy -the _piu_. However, to make up for not doing what his mother-in-law -would not let him do--and in regard to Beauchamp she had the whip hand -of him, for she did not let him into her secrets--he busied himself -every spare moment that he had in watching the proceedings of Captain -Moreton and the fair lady he had with him. His long familiarity with -beasts and birds, greatly affected his views of all things, and he got -to look upon these objects of his contemplation as two wild animals. -He internally named one the fox and the other the kite, and with the -same sort of shrewd speculation in regard to their manners, habits, -and designs, as he employed upon brutes, he watched, and calculated, -and divined with wonderful accuracy. One thing, however, he forgot, -which was, that a human fox has a few more faculties than the mere -brute; and that, although the four-legged fellow with the brush might -require great caution in any examination of his habits and -proceedings, Captain Moreton might require still more. Now that worthy -gentleman very soon found out that there was an observant eye upon -him, and he moreover discovered whose eye that was. There could not -have been a more unpleasant sensation to Captain Moreton than to feel -himself watched, especially by Stephen Gimlet; for he knew him to be -keen, shrewd, active, decided, persevering, one not easily baffled, -and by no means to be frightened; one, who must be met, combated, -overcome in any thing he undertook, or else suffered to have his own -way. Captain Moreton was puzzled how to act. To enter into open war -with Stephen was likely to be a very dangerous affair; for the -proceedings of the worthy captain, as the reader may suppose, did not -court public examination; and yet to suffer any man to become -thoroughly acquainted with all his in-comings and out-goings, was very -disagreeable and might be perilous. To gain time, indeed, was the -great thing; for Moreton's intention was, as soon as he had fairly -seen his cousin married to Isabella Slingsby, to take his departure -for another land, and to leave the consequences of the situation, in -which he had placed Lord Lenham, to operate, as he thoroughly believed -they would operate, in destroying health, vigour, and life. His only -object in remaining at all was so to guide the proceedings of his fair -companion, and to restrain her fiery and unreasoning passions, as to -prevent her overthrowing his whole scheme by her intemperate haste. -But how to gain the necessary time was the question. He first changed -his haunts and his hours, went out on the other side of the heath; but -Stephen Gimlet was there; took his walk in the early morning, instead -of late in the evening; but the figure of Stephen Gimlet was seen in -the gray twilight, whether it was day-dawn or sunset; and Captain -Moreton became seriously uneasy. - -Nothing, however, as yet appeared to have resulted from all this -watching, till, on the Saturday morning, somewhat to Captain Moreton's -surprise, the door of the room, where he was sitting alone, was -opened, and in walked his friend and acquaintance, Harry Wittingham. -The young man was exceedingly pale; but still he appeared to move -freely and without pain or difficulty; and a look of real pleasure -came up in Captain Moreton's face, which completely deceived Mr. -Wittingham, junior, as to the sensations of his friend towards him. He -fancied, as Captain Moreton shook him warmly by the hand, and declared -he was delighted to see him well again, that the other was really glad -at his recovery. Now Harry Wittingham might have been wounded, sick, -dying, dead, buried, turned into earth again, without Captain -Moreton's caring one straw about him, simply as Harry Wittingham _per -se_; but as one who might be serviceable in his schemes, who might -help him out of a difficulty, and, by taking part in a load of danger, -might help Captain Moreton to bear the rest, he was an object of great -interest to the captain, who, congratulated him again and again upon -his recovered health, made him sit down, inquired particularly into -all he had suffered, and did and said all those sorts of things which -were most likely to make a man thus convalescent believe that a -friendly heart had been greatly pained by all he had undergone. - -Harry Wittingham was soon seated in an armchair, and making himself -quite at home. Contrary to the advice of all doctors, he indulged in a -glass of brandy-and-water at the early hour of half-past ten, and -declared he was a great deal better for it, that old fool Slattery -having kept him without wine, spirits, or porter for the last five -weeks. - -"Ay, that might be necessary some time ago," said Moreton, "till your -wound was healed, but it is all stuff now. It must have been a bad -wound that you have got, Harry; and I am devilish sorry I could not be -down myself, for I think then you would have got no wound at all. -However, you gave him as good as you got, and that was some -consolation. No gentleman should ever be without his revenge, whether -it be with cards, or pistols, or what not, he should always give -something for what he gets, and if he does that, he has every reason -to be satisfied." - -"I have not got quite enough yet," said Harry Wittingham, with a -significant nod of his head; "and some people shall find that by and -by." - -"Ay, that's right, quite," answered Captain Moreton; "but I say, Hal, -how is the old cock, your father? I heard yesterday he was breaking -sadly--got the jaundice, or some devil of a thing like that--as yellow -as one of the guineas he keeps locked up from you--time for him to -take a journey, I should think." - -For a minute or two Harry Wittingham made no reply, but then he set -his teeth hard and said, - -"I should not wonder if the hard-hearted old flint were to leave it -all away from me." - -Captain Moreton gave a long, low whistle, exclaiming, "Upon my life, -you must stop that. Hang me, if I would not pretend to be penitent and -play a good boy for a month or two." - -"It is no use in the world," answered Harry Wittingham; "you might as -well try to turn the Thames at Gravesend as to put him out of his -course when once he has taken a thing into head. He must do what he -likes, he can't take it all, that's one comfort; but I say, Moreton, -what the devil is that fellow Wolf hanging about here for? You had -better not have any thing to do with him, I can tell you. He is as -great a scamp as ever lived, and I'll punish him some day or another. -I should have come in yesterday, but I saw him sitting down there upon -the mound upon the heath, looking straight here, and so I went away." - -"Did you see him again to-day?" asked Captain Moreton, with very -uneasy feelings. - -"Oh, yes," answered Wittingham, "there he was prowling about with his -gun under his arm; but I doubled upon him this time, and went down the -lanes, and in by the back way." - -"I will make him pay for this," said Moreton, setting his teeth. "He -has been spying here for a long time, and if it was not that I don't -wish any fuss till the day after to-morrow is over, I would break -every bone in his skin." - -"It would be a good thing if you did," answered Harry Wittingham; -"I'll tell you how he served me;" and he forthwith related all the -circumstances of his somewhat unpleasant adventure with Stephen Gimlet -when he visited the gamekeeper's cottage. - -The moment he had done, Captain Moreton tapped him on the arm with a -meaning smile, saying, - -"I'll tell you what, Harry, though you are not very strong yet, yet if -you are up to giving me ever so little help, we'll punish that fellow -before to-morrow's over. If you can come here to-night and take a bed, -we'll get up early and dodge him as he has been dodging us. He is -always out and about before any body else, so that there will be no -one to help him let him halloo as loud as he will. He is continually -off Sir John's ground with his gun and dog, so that we have every -right to think he is poaching, as he used to do." - -"Well, but what will you do with him?" said Harry Wittingham; "he is -devilish strong remember." - -"Yes, but so am I," answered Captain Moreton; "and I will take him -unawares, so that he cannot use his gun. Once down, I will keep him -there, while you tie his arms, and then we will bundle him over here, -and lock him up for a day or two." - -"Give him a precious good hiding," said young Wittingham, "for he well -deserves it; but I don't see any use of keeping him. If we punish him -well on the spot, that's enough." - -"There's nothing that you or I can do," answered Captain Moreton, -"that will punish him half so much as keeping him here till noon on -Monday, for now I'll let you into one thing, Harry: I am looking out -for my revenge upon some other friends of ours, and I have a notion -this fellow is set to watch every thing I do, with promise of devilish -good pay, if he stops me from carrying out my plan. It will all be -over before twelve o'clock on Monday; and if we can keep him shut up -here till then, he will lose his bribe, and I shall have vengeance. -You can give him a good licking, too, if you like, and nobody can say -any thing about it if we catch him off old Sir John's grounds." - -"I don't care whether they say any thing about it or not," answered -Harry Wittingham; "they may all go to the devil for that matter, and -I'll lend a hand with all my heart. But remember, I'm devilish weak, -and no match for him now; for this wound has taken every bit of -strength out of me." - -"Oh, you'll soon get that up again," answered Captain Moreton; "but -I'll manage all the rough work. But how do you get on about money if -the old fellow gives you none?" - -"I should be devilishly badly off, indeed," replied the young man, "if -our old housekeeper did not help me; but she has taken her money out -of the bank, and is selling some things for me; so I must not forget -to let her know that I am here if I come to-night." - -"Oh, I'll take care of that," answered Captain Moreton. "There's a boy -brings up my letters and things, a quiet, cunning little humpbacked -devil, who whistles just like a flageolet, and says very little to any -body. I'll tell him to go and tell old mother what's-her-name slyly, -that you are here if she wants you." - -The whole scheme seemed palatable to Harry Wittingham, and he entered -into the details with great zest and spirit, proposing several -improvements upon Captain Moreton's plan, some of which suited that -gentleman quite well. Another glass of brandy-and-water was added, and -Harry Wittingham declared that it was better than all the doctor's -stuff he had swallowed since he was wounded, for that he was already -much better than when he came, and felt himself quite strong again. -After an hour's rambling conversation upon all sorts of things not -very gentlemanly either in tone or matter, the two worthy confederates -parted. - -As the visitor took his way back to Buxton's Inn, he looked boldly -round for Stephen Gimlet with a pleasant consciousness of coming -vengeance; but the gamekeeper was not to be seen, and meditating the -pleasant pastime laid out for the following day, Mr. Wittingham -reached the inn, and ordered a very good dinner as a preparation. He -felt a little feverish, it is true, but nevertheless he drank the -bottle of stiff port which was placed on the table when dinner was -served; and elated with wine, set out as soon as it was dark to take -part once more in one of those schemes of evil which suited too well -his rash and reckless disposition, little knowing that all the time he -was the mere tool of another. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. - - -"Well doctor, well doctor, what is the matter?" asked Sir John -Slingsby, at the door of his own house, towards two o'clock on that -Saturday afternoon; "you look warm, doctor, and not half as dry as -usual. I declare, you have made that fat pony of yours perspire like -an alderman at the Easter ball. What has put you into the saddle? Has -the chaise broken down?" - -"No, Sir John," answered Doctor Miles; "but the horse was sooner -saddled than harnessed, and I wanted to see you in haste--where are -you going now? for you are about to mount, I perceive." - -"I am going down to set the fools at Tarningham to rights," answered -Sir John Slingsby. "I hear that that bilious old crow, Wittingham, and -deaf old Mr. Stumpforth, of Stumpington, have been sitting for these -two or three hours at the justice-room getting up all sorts of -vexatious cases with Wharton, to torment the poor people of the -parish, and to put them in a devout frame of mind for their Sunday's -duties; so I am going down to put my finger in the pie and spoil the -dish for them. Come along, doctor, and help, for you are a magistrate -too, and a man who does not like to see his fellow-creatures -maltreated. You can tell me what you want as we jog along." - -"We shall be going exactly in the right direction," said Doctor Miles, -"for my business with you referred to your magisterial capacity, Sir -John." - -The worthy, who had his foot in the stirrup, raised himself into the -saddle with wonderful agility, considering his size and his age; and, -accompanied by Doctor Miles, was soon on his way towards Tarningham, -listening with all his ears to the communication which the rector had -to make. - -"You must know, my good friend," said the doctor, "that some short -time ago your gamekeeper, Stephen Gimlet, found in the little vicarage -church at Moreton some one busily engaged, as it appeared, in the -laudable task of altering the registers in the vestry. He locked him -safely in, but the culprit got out in the night; and Gimlet -communicated the fact to me. I would have spoken to you about it, but -circumstances occurred at that time which might have rendered it -unpleasant for you to deal with that business." - -"I understand," said Sir John Slingsby, nodding his head -significantly, "who was the man?" - -"Why, Gimlet asserts that it was no other than that worst of all bad -fellows, Captain Moreton," replied Doctor Miles. "I examined the -register, and found that an alteration had certainly been committed; -for the date of one of the insertions was advanced several years -before those that followed, by skilfully changing a nought into a six. -Under the circumstances, I thought it best to consult with Wittingham, -and I proposed that a warrant should be issued against Captain -Moreton; but the worthy gentleman thought fit both to examine and -cross-examine Gimlet in the first instance; asked him nine times over -if he would swear that it was Captain Moreton; and, when he found that -he had not seen the man's face, his back being turned to the door of -the vestry when Gimlet went in, he pooh-poohed the whole matter, and -refused to issue the warrant. I did not choose to do so myself, the -event having occurred in a parish of my own, and with one of my -registers, but this morning, on visiting old Grindley, the sexton, who -is very ill, he made a full confession of his part in the affair: -Moreton had bribed him, it seems, to open for him the family vault and -the door of the vestry. In the one the worthy captain altered the date -on his great grandfather's coffin from 1760 to 1766 by an instrument -he seemed to have had made on purpose; and in the vestry performed the -same operation with plain pen and ink." - -"A pretty scoundrel," said Sir John Slingsby; "but I know what he -wants. He wants to prove that his mother could not break the entail, -which would be the case if the old man had lived an hour after she was -born." - -"Precisely so," said Doctor Miles; "but I did not choose to deal with -Mr. Wittingham any more upon the subject, at least without your -assistance; and therefore before I either signed a warrant myself, or -spoke with the people of Tarningham about it, I thought it better to -come up to the park and consult with you." - -"As the wisest man in the county," said Sir John Slingsby, laughing. -"My dear doctor, I will get a certificate from you and qualify for the -university of Gotham--but I will tell you what we will do, we will -send the groom here for Stephen Gimlet, and his evidence, with -the deposition of old Grindley, will soon put the whole matter -right.--Here, Tom, ride over like the devil to Ste Gimlet's cottage; -tell him to come down as fast as his legs will carry him to the -justice-room at Tarningham. We'll soon bring these gentlemen to the -end of their law, and Wharton to boot--an ill-conditioned brute, a -cross between a fox and a turnspit--do you recollect his mother, -doctor? Her legs were just like the balustrades of a bridge, turned -the wrong side upmost, only they bowed out on each side, which gave -them a sort of ogee." - -Thus rattling on, Sir John Slingsby rode forward till they reached the -entrance of the little justice-room, which was conveniently situated -immediately adjoining Mr. Wharton's offices. - -The appearance of Sir John Slingsby and Dr. Miles did not seem at all -palateable to the two other magistrates and their clerk, if one might -judge by the superlative courtesy of their reception. A chair was -placed immediately for the reverend gentleman, Mr. Stumpforth vacated -his seat for Sir John as president of the magistrates, and Mr. -Wharton, with malevolent sweetness, expressed his delight at seeing -Sir John amongst them again. - -"You did all you could to prevent it," said Sir John, taking the -chair, "but it would not do, Wharton. Now, gentlemen, what are you -about? we will not interrupt business." - -"There are a good many cases down," said Mr. Wharton; "some of them -excise-cases, some of them under the poor-law, some of them--" - -"Well, let us get through them, let us get through them," cried Sir -John, interrupting him, "for we have business, too, which must be -done. - -"We must take things in their order," said Mr. Wittingham, drily. - -"Oh, yes, according to the ledger," cried Sir John Slingsby, laughing; -"every thing in the regular way of trade, Wittingham, eh? Who's this? -James Jackson, the publican," he continued, looking at the paper; -"well, Wittingham, how does the debtor and creditor account stand with -him?" - -Mr. Wittingham winced, but replied nothing; and the case was regularly -taken up. Some nine or ten others followed; and certainly every thing -was done by the two magistrates who had been found sitting, and their -exceedingly excellent clerk to tire out Sir John Slingsby and Dr. -Miles, by protracting the investigation as long as possible. The poor -persons, however, who had been compelled by the power of paper or -parchment to appear in the awful presence of justice, had reason to -thank their stars and did so most devoutly, that the number of -magistrates was increased to four. A number of cases were dismissed as -frivolous; very lenient penalties were inflicted in other instances; -and, if the real truth were told, the person who suffered the severest -punishment under the proceedings of that day was no other than Mr. -Wittingham, upon whom Sir John Slingsby continued to pour for two long -hours all the stores of sarcasm which had accumulated in his bosom -during the last fortnight. At length the magistrates' paper was over, -and worthy Mr. Wittingham showed an inclination to depart; but Sir -John Slingsby stopped him, exclaiming, - -"Stay a bit, Wittingham, stay a bit, my good Sir. The case with which -we have now to deal you have already nibbled at; so you must have your -share of it." - -"I am ill, Sir John," said Mr. Wittingham, "I am not fit." - -"Not fit I have long known you to be," rejoined Sir John, and then -added in a murmur, "for any thing but a tall stool at the back end of -a slopseller's shop; but as to being ill, Wittingham, you don't -pretend to be ill. Why your complexion is as ruddy as if you had -washed your face with guineas out of your strong box. However it is -this business of Captain Moreton and his falsification of the register -at Moreton church that we have to deal with." - -"I have already disposed of that," said Mr. Wittingham, sharply, "and -I am not disposed to go into it again." - -But it was now Mr. Wharton's turn to attack Mr. Wittingham. - -"You have disposed of it, Sir," he exclaimed, with all the blood in -his body rushing up into his face; "the falsification of the registers -of Moreton church! why, I never heard of this!" - -"There was no reason that you should," answered Mr. Wittingham, -tartly; "you are not a magistrate, I think, Mr. Wharton; and besides, -you might in some degree, be considered as a party interested. -Besides, you were absent, and so I sent for Bacon and dealt with the -matter myself." - -"Fried his bacon and deviled the attorney," said Sir John Slingsby, -with a roar, "you see he is such an active creature, Wharton, he must -be doing whether right or wrong. I declare he cuts out so much matter -for the bench in reversing all his sage decrees, that the rest of the -magistrates can scarcely manage it." - -"I did not come here to be insulted, Sir John Slingsby," said Mr. -Wittingham, the jaundiced yellow of his face gradually becoming of an -olive green, "I did not come here to be insulted, and will not stay -for such a purpose; I expect to be treated like a gentleman, Sir." - -"Wonderful are the expectations of man," exclaimed the baronet, "just -as much might a chimney-sweeper expect to be treated like an -archbishop, because he wears black--but let us to business, let us to -business, if we go on complimenting each other in this way we shall -not get through the affair to-night, especially with your lucid -assistance, Wittingham; for if there be a man in England who can so -stir a puddle that the sharpest eyes shall not be able to see a lost -half-crown at the bottom, you are the man." - -Up started the worthy magistrate, exclaiming in a weak voice and -bewildered air, - -"I will not stay, that man will drive me mad." - -"Impossible," shouted Sir John Slingsby, as Mr. Wittingham staggered -towards the door; and he then added in a lower tone, "fools never go -mad, they tell me;" but Doctor Miles, who saw that old Wittingham was -really ill, rose from his seat, and crossing the room, spoke a word or -two to the retreating magistrate, which he was not allowed to finish, -for old Wittingham pushed him rudely aside and darted out of the room. - -Before I proceed to give any account of the further inquiries of the -three magistrates who remained, I shall beg leave to follow Mr. -Wittingham to his own house. About two hundred yards' distance from -the justice-room he stopped, and leaned for a minute or two against a -post, and again paused at his own gate as if hardly able to proceed. -He reached his own dwelling, however, and after several attempts, with -a shaking hand, succeeded in thrusting his private key into the lock -and opening the door. The hall was vacant; the whole house still; -there was neither wife nor child to receive and welcome him; no -kindred affection, no friendly greeting to soothe and cheer the sick -old man, whose pursuits, whose hopes, whose tendencies through life -had been totally apart from the kindly sympathies of our nature. But -there are times, steel the heart how we may, when a yearning for those -very kindly sympathies will come over us; when the strong frame -broken, the eager energies quelled, the fierce passions dead and still -within us, the strong desires either disappointed or sated, leave us -alone in our weakness, to feel with bitter regret that there are -better things and more enduring than those which we have pursued; and -when the great moral lessons, taught by decay, are heard and listened -to for the first time, when perhaps it is too late to practise them. -That lonely house, that silent hall, the absence of every trace of -warm life and pleasant social companionship, the dull, dead stillness -that pervaded every thing had their effect upon Mr. Wittingham, and a -sad effect it was. All was so quiet and so still; all was so solemn -and so voiceless; he felt as if he were entering his tomb. The very -sunshine, the bright sunshine that, streaming through the fanlight -over the door, fell in long rays upon the marble-floor, had something -melancholy in it, and he thought "It will soon shine so upon my -grave." What was to him then the satisfaction of the greedy love of -gold, that creeping ivy of the heart, that slowly growing, day by day, -chokes every softer and gentler offspring of that on which it rests? -What was to him the gratification of that vanity, which was all that -the acquisition of wealth had satisfied? Nothing, all nothing. He -stood there friendless, childless, companionless, alone; sick at -heart, disappointed in all those expectations he had formed, having -reaped bitterness from the very success of his labours, and finding no -medicine either for the heart or the body in the gold he had -accumulated or the station he had gained. - -He paused there for a moment, whilst a deep and bitter anguish of the -regret of a whole life took possession of him, and then staggering on -into the trim, well-arranged, cold and orderly library, he sunk into -one of the arm-chairs by the side of the fireless hearth and rang the -bell sharply. For two or three minutes no one appeared, and then he -rang again, saying to himself, - -"There never were such bad servants as mine; ay, ay, it wants a -mistress of a house," and he rang again furiously. - -In about a minute after the door opened, and Mrs. Billiter appeared, -and Mr. Wittingham inquired, angrily, why nobody came at his summons? -The housekeeper replied, - -"That she thought the footman had come, but finding the bell ring -again she had hastened up herself." - -Mr. Wittingham's rage was then turned upon the footman, and after -denouncing him in very vehement terms and condemning him to expulsion -from his household, his anger either worked itself off, or his -strength became exhausted, and he sat for a moment or two in silence, -till Mrs. Billiter quietly began to move towards the door. - -"Stay, Billiter," he cried; "what are you going for? I tell you I am -ill, woman, very ill." - -"I was going to send for Mr. Slattery," said Billiter, in a cold tone; -"I saw you were ill, Sir." - -"Send for the devil!" exclaimed Mr. Wittingham, "that fellow Slattery -is no good at all. Here have I been taking his soap-pills and his -cordial-boluses for these three weeks, and am no better but rather -worse. I will go to bed, Billiter--get me a cup of hot coffee--I feel -very ill indeed." - -"You had better see some one," said Mrs. Billiter, "for you don't look -right at all, and it would take some hours to get another doctor." - -"Well, well, send for the man if it must be so," said Mr. Wittingham, -"but he does nothing but cram one with potions and pills just to make -up a long bill. Here, help me upstairs, I will go to bed, and bring -me a cup of strong coffee--I declare I can scarcely stand." - -As soon as Mr. Wittingham was safely deposited in his room, Mrs. -Billiter descended to the kitchen, and sent the housemaid at once for -Mr. Slattery, taking care to spend as much time as possible on the -preparation of the coffee, not judging it by any means a good beverage -for her master, in which she was probably, right. The surgeon, -however, was so long ere he appeared, that she was obliged to carry up -the coffee to Mr. Wittingham, whom she found retching violently, and -complaining of violent pains. He nevertheless drank the coffee to the -last drop, in the more haste as Mrs. Billiter expressed an opinion it -would do him harm; after having accomplished which he sank back upon -his pillow exhausted, and closed his eyes. The colour of his skin was -now of a shade of deep green, approaching to black under his eyes, and -the housekeeper, as she stood by his bedside and gazed at him, thought -to herself that it would not last long. It must not be pretended that -she was in any degree greatly affected at the prospect of her master's -speedy demise, though she had lived in his service very many years, -for he was not one to conciliate affection in any one, and her -meditations were more of how she could best serve the graceless lad, -whose disposition she had assisted to ruin, than of his father's -probable fate. - -While she thus paused and reflected, the quick, creaky step of Mr. -Slattery was on the stairs, and the moment after he entered the room, -rubbing gently together a pair of hands, the fingers of which were fat -and somewhat red, though very soft and shapeless, presenting the -appearance of four long sausages and a short one. He had always a -cheerful air, Mr. Slattery, for he fancied it comforted his patients, -kept up their spirits, and prevented them from sending for other -advice. Thus he would stand and smile upon a dying man, as if he had a -real and sincere pleasure in his friend's exit from a world of woe; -and very few people could discover from the worthy gentleman's -countenance whether a relation was advancing quietly towards recovery -or the tomb. Thus with a jaunty step he approached Mr. Wittingham's -bedside, sat down, and as the sick man opened his eyes, laughed -benignantly, saying, - -"Why, my dear Sir, what is all this? You must have been agitating -yourself," and at the same time he put his fingers on the pulse. - -"Agitated myself!" cried Mr. Wittingham, "it is that old bankrupt -brute, Sir John Slingsby, has nearly driven me mad, and I believe -these servants will finish it. Why the devil do you leave my wig -there, Billiter? Put it upon the block; don't you see Mr. Slattery is -sitting upon it?" - -"Well, I declare," cried the surgeon, "I thought I felt as if I were -sitting upon a cat or something of that kind. But, my dear Sir, you -must really keep yourself quiet or you will bring yourself into a -feverish state. The pulse is hard and quick now, and your skin is very -hot and dry. We must make a little addition to the soap pill, and I -will send you directly a stomachic cordial-draught, combined with a -little narcotic, to produce comfortable sleep." - -He still kept his fingers on the pulse, gazing into the sick man's -eyes, till Mr. Wittingham could have boxed his ears, and at length he -said, - -"The draught must be repeated every two hours if you do not sleep, so -that you had better have somebody sit up with you to give it you." - -"I will have no such thing," said Mr. Wittingham, "I can't bear to -have people pottering about in my room all night; I can take the -draughts very well myself if they are put down by me." - -"But they must be shaken before taken," said Mr. Slattery. - -"Well, then, I can shake them," said Mr. Wittingham; and the worthy -surgeon, finding his patient obstinate, gave up the point. He -proceeded to ask a variety of questions, however, to which he received -nothing but gruff and grumbling replies, the worthy gentleman -principally insisting upon receiving something which would relieve the -great pain he felt in his side. Thereupon Mr. Slattery undertook to -explain to him all the various causes which might produce that pain; -but the confused crowd of gall-bladders and gall-stones, and indurated -livers, and kidneys, and ducts, and glands, conveyed very little -tangible information to the mind of his hearer, and only served to -puzzle, alarm, and irritate him. At length, however, the surgeon -promised and vowed that he would send him all manner of remedies for -his evils, and spoke in such a confident tone of his being better on -the next day, or the day after, that he left him more composed. The -housekeeper followed Mr. Slattery out of the room, but did not think -fit to make any observation till they reached the foot of the stairs, -when she touched Mr. Slattery gently on the arm and beckoned him into -the dining-room, "He seems in a bad way, Sir," said the housekeeper. - -"A case of jaundice, Mrs. Billiter," replied the surgeon, raising his -eyebrows, "which is never very pleasant." - -"But I want to know if there is any danger, Mr. Slattery," continued -Mrs. Billiter, "it is very necessary that people should be aware." - -"Why, there is always danger in every disease," answered the surgeon, -who abominated a straightforward answer to such questions; but then, -bethinking himself, and seeing that it might be better to be a little -more explicit, he added, "Jaundice, even the green, or black jaundice, -as it is sometimes called, which your master has, is not in itself by -any means a dangerous disease; but there are accidents, which occur in -the progress of an illness, that may produce very fatal results, -sometimes in a moment. This is by no means uncommon in jaundice. You -see the cause of that yellow, or green tint of the skin and eyes is -this, either in consequence of biliary calculi, or the construction -of the ducts leading from the gall-bladder, or pressure upon the -gall-bladder itself. The bile is prevented from flowing, as it -naturally does, into the intestinal canal." - -"Lord 'a mercy," cried Mrs. Billiter, "what do I know of all such -stuff? I never heard of people having canals in their inside before, -or ducks either, except when they had eaten them roasted; and that -I'll swear my master hasn't for the last two months. Gall he has, sure -enough, and bitterness too, as the scripture says." - -"Wait a moment, wait a moment, and you will see it all clearly -directly," said the worthy surgeon. "As I have said, the bile being -thus prevented from flowing in its natural course is absorbed into the -vascular system; and, as long as it is deposited merely on the mucous -membrane, showing itself, as we see, in the discolouration of the -cuticle, no harm ensues; but the deposition of the smallest drop of -bile on the membranes of the brain acts as the most virulent poison on -the whole nervous system, and sudden death very frequently follows, -sometimes in five minutes, sometimes in an hour or two. Now this was -the reason why I wished you to sit up with him to-night; but, as he -wont hear of it, it can't be helped; and one thing is certain, that -even if you were there, you could do no good, should such a thing -occur; for I know no remedial means any more than for the bite of a -rattlesnake." - -"I wish he would see his son," said Mrs. Billiter, "but you told him -he would be better to-morrow or the next day, and so there is no hope -of it; for, unless he is frightened out of his wits, he would fly into -a fury at the very name of the thing." - -"Well, wait till to-morrow, wait till to-morrow," said Mr. Slattery, -"and if I see that it won't hurt him, I will frighten him a bit. I -don't see that there is any danger just at present, if he keeps -himself quiet; and he must not be irritated on any account. However, -if I were you, I would be ready to go to him directly, if he rings his -bell; and in the meantime I'll send him the composing draught." - -Notwithstanding Mr. Slattery's composing draughts, Mr. Wittingham -passed a wretched night. He was feverish, heated, full of dark and -horrible fancies, hearing the blood going in his head like a mill, and -thinking of every thing that was miserable within the whole range of a -not very extensive imagination. He bore it obstinately, however, for -some hours, taking the potions by his bedside, within even less than -the prescribed intervals, but finding no relief. At length he began to -wonder, if people would hear him when he rang. He found himself -growing weaker and more weak; and he suffered exceeding pain, till -darkness and the torture of his own thoughts became intolerable; and, -stretching out his hand, he rang the bell about three o'clock in the -morning. The old housekeeper, who had remained dressed close at hand, -was in his room in a moment; and Mr. Wittingham felt as much pleased -and grateful, as it was in his nature to feel. She did her best to -soothe and comfort him; and, just as the light was coming in, the -sedative medicines, which he had taken, began to produce some effect; -and he fell into a heavy sleep. Nevertheless, when Mr. Slattery -visited him, he found no great improvement; but a warm bath produced -some relief. The worthy surgeon began to fancy, however, from all the -symptoms that he saw, that he was likely to lose a patient of some -importance; and he judged that it might be as well to establish a -claim upon that patient's successor. He therefore determined to take -the advocacy of Harry Wittingham's cause upon himself; and, in order -to prepare the way for what he had to say in the evening, he gave the -worthy gentleman under his hands a significant hint, that he was in a -good deal of danger. - -Mr. Wittingham heard the announcement in silence, closed his eyes, -compressed his lips, and seemed more terribly affected than the worthy -surgeon had at all expected. He therefore judged it best to throw in a -little consolation before he proceeded further, and he continued in a -soothing and cajoling tone: - -"I know you to be a man of strong mind, my dear Sir, and not likely to -be depressed at the thought of a little peril. Therefore, if I had -thought the case hopeless, I should have told you so at once. It is -not so, however, at all; and I only wished to warn you, that there was -some danger, in order to show you the necessity of keeping yourself -quite quiet and taking great care." - -Mr. Wittingham answered not a word; and, after a very unpleasant -pause, the surgeon took his leave, promising to come again in the -evening. - -When he did return, Mr. Slattery found his patient wonderfully -composed as he thought. Nevertheless, there was an awkward something -about the pulse, a sort of heavy suppressed jar, which did not make -him augur very favourably of his prospects. As he sat by the bedside -with his fingers upon the wrist and his eyes half shut, as if -considering all the slightest indications which might be afforded by -that small agitated current that beat and quivered beneath his touch, -what was Mr. Slattery reflecting upon? Not Mr. Wittingham's state, -except as far as it was to influence his conduct in a non-medical -capacity. He said to himself--or thought, which is the same thing, -"This old gentleman will go. He has not stamina to struggle with such -a disease. As I can do little for the Wittingham present, I way as -well do what I can for the Wittingham to come. If I show myself his -friend, he may show himself mine; and though perhaps the discussion -may make life's feeble tide ebb a little faster, it is not much matter -whether it be low water half an hour sooner or later." - -Mrs. Billiter, however, did not happen to be in the room at the -moment, and Mr. Slattery resolved to have a witness to his benevolent -proceedings. He therefore asked numerous questions, and discussed -various important points affecting the sick man's health till the good -housekeeper appeared. He then gradually led the conversation round to -young Harry Wittingham, remarking that he had had a long drive since -the morning, and speaking of Buxton's Inn, as one of the places at -which he had called. - -"By the way, I did not see your son, my dear Sir," he added, "he was -out. Indeed he may be considered as quite well now, and only requires -care of himself, kind attention from others, and a mind quiet and at -ease." - -Mr. Wittingham said not a word, and Mr. Slattery mistook his silence -entirely. "I now think, my dear Sir," he continued, "that it would be -a great comfort to you if you would have him home. Under present -circumstances it would be advisable, I think, I do indeed." - -Then the storm burst, then the smothered rage broke forth with fearful -violence. I will not repeat all Mr. Wittingham said, for a great deal -was unfit for repetition. He cursed, he swore, he gave Mr. Slattery -over to perdition, he declared that he would never let his son darken -his doors again, that he had cast him off, disinherited him, trusted -he might come to beg his bread. He told the surgeon to get out of his -house and never to let him see him again; he vowed that he was glad he -was dying, for then that scoundrel, his son, would soon find out what -it was to offend a father, and would understand that he could not make -his peace whenever he pleased by sending any pitiful little pimping -apothecary to try and frighten him into forgiveness. In vain Mr. -Slattery strove to speak, in vain he endeavoured to excuse himself, in -vain he took a tone of authority, and told his patient he would kill -himself, if he gave way to such frantic rage. Again and again Mr. -Wittingham, sitting bolt upright in bed, with a face black and green -with wrath and jaundice, told him to get out of the house, to quit the -room, to close the books and strike a balance; and at length the -surgeon was fairly driven forth, remonstrating and protesting, unheard -amidst the storm of his patient's words. - -Mrs. Billiter did not think fit to follow him, for she knew her master -well, and that his ever ready suspicions would be excited by the least -sign of collusion. Besides, she was not altogether well pleased that -Mr. Slattery had thought fit to take the business out of her hands -without consulting her, and made as she termed it, a fine kettle of -fish of the whole affair. Thus she acted perfectly honestly, when Mr. -Wittingham turned upon her as soon as the surgeon was gone, -exclaiming, - -"What do you think of all this, woman? What do you think of his -impertinence?" - -And she replied, "I think him a meddling little fool, Sir." - -"Ay, that he is, Billiter, that he is!" answered Mr. Wittingham, "and -I believe he has tried to frighten me, just to serve his own purposes. -But he shall find himself mistaken, that he shall.--He has done me -harm enough, though--putting me in such a passion. My head aches as if -it would split," and Mr. Wittingham pressed his hand upon his -forehead, and sunk back upon his pillow. - -By this time night was falling fast; and Mrs. Billiter retired to -obtain lights; when she returned, Mr. Wittingham seemed dozing, -exhausted, as she thought, by the fit of passion, to which he had -given way. Sitting down, therefore, at a distance, she took up a book -and began to read. It was one of those strange, mystical compositions, -the product of a fanatical spirit, carried away into wild and daring -theories regarding things wisely hidden from the eyes of man, in -which, sometimes, by one of the strange contrarieties of human nature, -the most selfish, material, and unintellectual persons take great -delight. It was called the "Invisible World Displayed," and it had -been lately bought by Mr. Wittingham, since he had fallen into the -melancholy and desponding state, which usually accompanies the disease -he laboured under. For more than an hour Mrs. Billiter went on reading -of ghosts, and spirits, and phantoms, and devils, till her hair began -to stand erect under a thick cushion-cap. But still there was a sort -of fascination about the book which carried her on. She heard her -master breathing hard close by; and more than once she said to -herself, "He's getting a good sleep now, at all events." At length she -began to think the sleep lasted somewhat long; and, laying down the -book, she went and looked in between the curtains. He had not moved at -all, and was snoring aloud; so, as the clock had struck eleven she -thought she might as well send the other servants to bed, resolving to -sit up in his room and sleep in the great chair. About a quarter of an -hour was occupied in this proceeding, and in getting some refreshment; -and, when she returned, opening the door gently, she heard the same -sonorous breathing; and, seating herself again, she took up the book -once more, thinking: "I dare say he will wake soon; so I had better -not go to sleep, ere I have given him the other draught." Wonderful -were the tales that she there read, of people possessed of miraculous -warnings, and of voices heard, and of apparitions seen in the dead -hour of night. Tarningham clock struck twelve, whilst she was still -poring over the pages; but, though she was a good deal excited by what -she read, fatigue and watching would have their effect; and her eyes -became somewhat heavy. To cast off this drowsiness, she rose and -quietly put the room in order; then sat down again, and had her hand -once more upon the book, when suddenly the heavy breathing stopped for -a minute. "He is going to wake now," said Mrs. Billiter to herself; -but scarcely had the thought passed through her mind, when she heard a -sudden sort of rattling and snorting noise from the bed; and, jumping -up in alarm, she ran forward, and drew back the curtain. The light -fell straight upon the face of the sick man; and a horrible sight it -presented. The features were all in motion; the eyes rolling in the -head; the teeth gnashing together; foam issuing from the mouth; and -the whole limbs agitated, so that the bed-clothes were drawn into a -knot around him. Mr. Wittingham, in short, was in strong convulsions. -Mrs. Billiter was, naturally, greatly alarmed; and her first impulse -was to run to the door to call for help; but suddenly a new view of -the case seemed to strike her: "No, I won't," she said, and, going -back, she got some hartshorn, and applied it to Mr. Wittingham's -nostrils, sprinkled some water on his face, wet his temples, and did -every thing she could think of to put an end to the fit. It continued -violently for several minutes, however; and she thought, "Perhaps he -ought to be bled; I ought to send for Slattery, I do believe;" but at -that moment the spasm seemed relaxed; the contorted limbs fell -languid; a calm expression spread over the features; the eyelids fell -heavily, rose, and fell again; and though the fingers continued to -grasp the bed-clothes, it was with no violence. "He is getting -better," said the housekeeper to herself. The next moment the motions -of the hands ceased; a sharp shudder passed over the whole frame; the -chest heaved and fell; then came a deep sigh; and the eyes opened; the -jaw dropped; all became motionless; there was not a sound. Mrs. -Billiter listened. Not the rustle of the lightest breath could be -heard. She held the candle close to his eyes; the eyelids quivered -not; the pupil did not contract. A cold, damp dew stood upon the -sunken temples; and all was still but the silence of death. She set -down the candle on the chair, and gazed at him for two or three -minutes, almost as motionless as the dead body before her; then, -suddenly starting, she said in a low tone: "There is no time to be -lost; I must think of the poor boy; for he was a hard-hearted old man; -and there is no knowing what he may have done. She pressed her hand -upon her forehead tight for a minute or two, in deep thought; then -putting the candle on the table at a distance from the bed-curtains, -she went out, ran up stairs, and called up the footman, waiting at his -door till he came out. - -"Master is very ill, John," said Mrs. Billiter; "I don't think he will -get through the night, so you must run up--" - -"And bring down Mr. Slattery," said the footman, interrupting her. - -"No," answered the housekeeper, "Slattery said he could do no good; -and master and he had a sad quarrel, but you must go and call Mr. -Harry. Tell him to come down directly, and not to lose a minute." - -"I had better take the horse," said the man, "for Buxton's Inn is a -good bit of a way." - -"He is not at Buxton's Inn," answered Mrs. Billiter, "but at Morris's -little cottage on Chandleigh-heath. You can take the horse if you -like, but be quick about it for Heaven's sake. It is a clear, -moonlight night, and you can gallop all the way." - -"That I will," said the man, and ran down stairs. - -Without calling any one else, Mrs. Billiter returned to the chamber of -death, looked into the bed for a moment or two and saw that all was -still. She knew he was dead right well, but yet it seemed strange to -her that he had not moved. There was something awful in it, and she -sat down upon a chair and wept. She had not loved him; she had not -esteemed or respected him; she had known him to be harsh, cruel, and -unkind, but yet there was something in seeing the life of the old man -go out solitary, untended by kindred hands, without a friend, without -a relation near, with bitterness in his spirit and enmity between him -and his only child, that moved the secret sources of deep emotion in -the woman's heart and opened the fountain of tears. - -While she yet wept, she heard the horse's feet pass by towards -Chandleigh-heath, and then for about an hour all was silent. Buried in -deep sleep, the inhabitants of the little town knew not, cared not, -thought not of all that was passing in the dwelling of their rich -neighbour. At length a distant sound was heard of hoofs beating fast -the hard road; it came nearer and nearer; and starting up, Mrs. -Billiter ran down stairs with a light in her hand and opened the -hall-door. The next moment she heard the garden-gate opened, and a -figure came forward leading a horse. - -Casting the rein over the beast's neck and giving it a cut with the -whip to send it towards the stables, Harry Wittingham sprang forward, -ran up the steps, and entered the house. His face was not pale but -flushed, and his eyes fiery. - -"Ah, Master Harry," said Mrs. Billiter, as soon as she saw him, "he is -gone." - -"Gone!" exclaimed Harry Wittingham, "do you mean he is dead?" - -"Yes," answered the old woman; "but come up, Sir, come up, there is -much to be thought of." - -Without a word the young man stood beside her, whilst she closed and -locked the door, and then followed her up stairs to his dead father's -room. She suffered him to gaze into the bed for a minute or two, with -haggard eyes and heavy brow, but then she touched his arm, saying, - -"Master Harry, Master Harry, you had better think of other things just -now; he was very hard upon you, and I can't help thinking tried to do -you wrong. Four or five days ago he wrote a great deal one afternoon, -and then told me afterwards 'he had remembered me in his will.' You -had better see what that will is--he kept all the papers he cared most -about in that table-drawer--the key hangs upon his watch-chain." - -With shaking hands Harry Wittingham took up the watch, approached the -table and opened the drawer with the key. There were several papers -within and different note-books, but one document lay at the top with -a few words written on the outside, and the young man instantly took -it up, opened and began to read it. Mrs. Billiter gazed at him, -standing at a distance, with a look of anxiety and apprehension. When -he had read about a dozen lines his face assumed a look of terrible -distress he dropped the paper from his hand, and sinking into a chair, -exclaimed, - -"Good God, he thought I shot at him!" - -"But you didn't? you didn't, Master Harry?" - -"I?--I never thought of it!" exclaimed Harry Wittingham. - -Mrs. Billiter ran forward, picked up the paper, and put it in his hand -again. - -"There's a large fire in the kitchen to keep water hot," she said in a -whisper; "all the maids are in bed, and the man has not come back yet, -but he won't be long--be quick, Master Harry, be quick." - -The young man paused, gazed thoughtfully at the paper for a moment or -two, then took up the light and hurried out of the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. - - -We must go back to an early hour of that same Sunday morning, and to -the cottage of Stephen Gimlet, near the little church. Both Stephen -himself and his mother-in-law had risen betimes; and the boy was still -sleeping in his bed. The old lady spent three-quarters of an hour in -writing an epistle, with her spectacles on her nose; while her -son-in-law ate his breakfast; and when the act of composition was -over, she folded up in the letter an old piece of paper, partly -printed, partly written, the very same in fact, which had flown out of -her family Bible one morning, when poor Billy Lamb, coming in, had -found the book in the hands of Stephen Gimlet's little boy. She then -added thereto an old, somewhat crumpled, and well-worn letter, first -reading over the address attentively, got a light and a small piece of -red sealing-wax, sealed the letter, and stamped it with the end of her -thimble. - -"There, Stephen," she said, giving the letter to her son-in-law, "he -is back now, that's certain; take that up to him, and tell him, that -if he wants to hear any more about it, I can give him information of -the whole. I know all the names, and I believe the minister is alive -still.--I would not go out of the house, if I were you, till I saw -him; and, if by any chance he should not be come down yet, I would -hang about and catch him, when he arrives; for it is only just right -he should know how the whole matter stands, before he goes any -further." - -"I won't miss him this time, goody," said Ste Gimlet; "so you and the -boy get your dinner, if I should not come back in time. I am very -uneasy at its not having been done before; for we poor people cannot -tell what may become of such things with great folks, and after all -you tell me, I am very sure, that blackguard fellow Moreton is not -hanging about here for any good." - -Thus saying, Stephen Gimlet put the letter carefully up, and went -away, as usual, with his gun in his hand, and his dog following. It -was not yet more than half-past five o'clock; and, recollecting that -the servants of Sir John Slingsby were not very matutinal in their -habits, the gamekeeper thought he might as well go upon one of his -rounds, which led him near to Chandleigh Heath, and see if he could -get any inkling of Captain Moreton's proceedings. He walked slowly -along up the lane from his own house, crossed the high-road from -Tarningham to London, and then taking a path across the fields, soon -came to another lane, which led him to a sandy way, having a high -hedge with elm-trees on the left, and Chandleigh Heath on the right. -It was sunk down some way beneath the rest of the country, so as to -give no prospect over the common; but, a couple of hundred yards -further on, a footpath went up over the bank and divided into two, -something after the fashion of a bird's merrythought, one branch -leading to an old tumulus, topped with firs, and the other, which was -much shorter, running down to the cottage inhabited by Captain -Moreton. About twenty yards before he reached this turning, the dog, -which followed at Stephen Gimlet's heels, began to growl in a somewhat -angry manner; and the gamekeeper turned round to look in what -direction the beast's eyes were bent. Before he could ascertain, -however, a man suddenly sprang over the hedge, and cast himself upon -him, seizing the barrel of his gun with both hands. A fierce struggle -ensued; for Stephen Gimlet at once perceived who his adversary was; -and the gamekeeper, though taken unawares, was decidedly getting the -better, when he suddenly found his arms seized from behind, and a cord -passed quickly round them. The next instant the cord was drawn tight -in spite of all his efforts; but at the same moment he had the -satisfaction of hearing the voice of Harry Wittingham exclaim: "Damn -the dog, he has bit me to the bone;" and, as his legs were free, he -made so strenuous an application of his thick-nailed shoes to the -shins of Captain Moreton, that the respectable gentleman let go his -hold; and, darting away, Stephen Gimlet ran forward, as fast as he -could, in the hope of meeting some one, who would render him -assistance. I have said, that his assailants sprang upon him from -behind; and, consequently, the only paths open for the fugitive were -those which led towards the cottage or to the tumulus on the heath. In -the latter direction he was not likely to find any one to help him; -but down the lane, which passed close by the cottage, were a number of -poor men's houses, the inhabitants of which usually went out to work -about that hour. It is a pity that Stephen Gimlet did not recollect -that it was Sunday; but so it was; and the good labourers were taking -an additional nap to refresh them after the toils of the week. No one -knows how much one limb aids another, even in the peculiar functions -of the latter, till some deprivation has taken place. Now, at the -first consideration, we should say, that a man did not run with his -arms; but yet the arms help a man very much in running; and Stephen -Gimlet soon found to his cost, that he could not run as he was -accustomed to do, without them. He was much swifter of foot than -either of those who followed; but yet, by the time that he had got -three hundred yards down the lane, they had recovered their hold of -him and thrown him down. In fact, it was a great convenience to them, -that he had run; for every step that he had taken was in the direction -which they had intended to carry him; and when they overtook him, he -was not thirty yards from the garden-gate of the cottage. He was -easily dragged along for that distance, brought into the house, and -put into a room, which had been constructed by the retired hosier for -what he called the butler's-pantry, though it is by no means to be -understood that he ever had, or expected to have, such a thing as a -butler, or any thing the least like it. Nevertheless, as the room was -destined to contain a certain amount of silver spoons, tea-pots, and -other little pieces of the precious metal, strong bars had been put up -to the windows; and the butler's-pantry now formed a very convenient -little cage for the bird, which the two gentlemen had caught out upon -the common. - -Before they shut the door upon him, Mr. Henry Wittingham made some -proposal to Captain Moreton in a low voice, to which the other -replied: - -"No, no; he'll make an outcry and wake the women; and then we shall -have it all over the place. You can lick him well before we let him -out, if you like. Let us attend to the main business first, and, -having got him in, keep him in; nobody knowing any thing about -it.--Good morning, Master Wolf; you shall have some bread-and-water, -if you like, but nothing else for the next four-and-twenty hours." - -Stephen Gimlet answered not; and it is to be remarked, that--whether, -because he thought that shouting would be of no use, or that he chose -to imitate the beast, whose name he had acquired, in its taciturn -habits under adversity--not a word had he uttered from the beginning -of the fray until the end. He suffered the door to be shut upon him in -silence; and while he remained revolving what was to be done, or -whether any thing could be done, his two captors retired to the little -drawing-room, where they sat down and laughed for a moment at the -success of their scheme. Their first merriment, however, soon gave way -to some uneasy sensations. Captain Moreton rubbed his shins, which had -suffered considerably from the contact with Stephen Gimlet's shoes. -Harry Wittingham unceremoniously pulled off his boot, and found his -whole stocking stained with blood, and the marks of four large fangs -very apparent in the heel and tendon. - -"Come along with me," said Captain Moreton, when he saw his -companion's state; "we'll get a little salt and water; you shall wash -your heel with it, and I will wash my shins, for that d--d fellow has -kicked all the skin off--salt and water is the best thing in the -world." - -While they go to perform the part of surgeons upon themselves, I will, -with the reader's leave, return to speak of one of the actors in the -scene of Stephen Gimlet's capture, who has not had as much notice as -he deserves. The dog, who had followed him from his own cottage, after -having paid due attention to the heel of Mr. Wittingham, and received -a severe kick for his pains, gave chase to the pursuers of his master -down the lane, tore Captain Moreton's coat with a spring and a snap; -but then suddenly, as if he saw that his own unassisted efforts could -do little, and judged, that it might be right to seek assistance, he -darted off at a right angle across the common, with his head hanging -down, his tongue out, and some angry foam dropping from his mouth. He -ran straight through a farm-yard on the opposite side of the heath, -bit at a woman who was going to milk the cows, but only tore her -apron, wounded the farmer's dog with a sharp snap, went clear over the -wall and straight on toward Tarningham, biting at every living thing -that came in his way, but never stopping to ascertain whether he had -inflicted much or little evil. This misanthropical spirit soon called -the attention of the people, and excited their indignation. They gave -the poor dog a bad name; and, though no one could be found to -undertake the exact task of hanging him, they followed with -pitchforks, sticks, shovels, stones, and a very miscellaneous -assortment of other weapons, such as pokers, tongs, &c.; and, driving -him into the court-yard of the mayor's house at Tarningham, succeeded -in killing him without doing any other further mischief. - -Such is the tragic history of Stephen Gimlet's poor dog; but of none -of the particulars were Captain Moreton and Harry Wittingham made -acquainted at the time; for both those gentlemen thought fit to keep -themselves strictly to the house during the whole morning. Of much and -many things did they talk; they comforted the outward man, as had been -proposed, with salt and water; they comforted the inner man with -toast, coffee, eggs, and broiled ham. The broiled ham left them -thirsty; and at twelve o'clock they tried to assuage such unpleasant -sensations by a glass of cold brandy-and-water; and, finding that not -succeed according to their expectation, they tried another glass hot. -After that, Harry Wittingham declared he felt tired and sleepy with -getting up so early, and retired to lie down for a time; but he -continued sleeping in a broken sort of confused slumber for between -three and four hours, when he was roused by hearing some very high -tones, and apparently sharp words proceeding from the neighbouring -room. Without difficulty he recognised the voices of Captain Moreton -and his fair companion, who had seemed in no very good humour when he -supped with him the night before; but he could not distinguish the -subject of dispute on the present occasion; and, looking at his watch, -he found that it was past four o'clock. Knowing that the dinner-hour -at the cottage was five, he washed his face and hands, arranged his -hair, as best he might, and went down to the drawing-room, still -hearing the strife of tongues raging in the adjoining room. - -It was some quarter of an hour before Captain Moreton joined him; and -he was then informed by his worthy friend, that dinner would be half -an hour later that day, as the maid had been sent to Buxton's Inn, for -the purpose of ordering a chaise to be at the door at nightfall. - -This announcement startled Harry Wittingham a good deal. - -"But where the devil are you going to, Moreton?" he inquired; "you are -not going to leave me alone with this fellow, are you?" - -"Only for a short time, Mr. Wittingham," answered Captain Moreton, in -his easy, nonchalant way, "not long enough for him to eat you, or for -you to eat him. You know what obstinate devils these women are; and I -have got to do with the most pigheaded of the whole race. The fact is, -Wittingham, we have got in our hands, if we do but use it properly, -the means of having full revenge upon one or two good friends of ours; -amongst the rest, that fellow, who, as you ought to remember, was -second to Captain Hayward in his duel with you, Mr. Beauchamp, he -calls himself." - -"Why, I hear he has turned out a Lord Lenham, and is going to marry -old Sir John's pretty daughter." - -"Exactly so," answered Captain Moreton, drily; "but if he doesn't -mind, his wedding tour will be a different one to what he expects; -however, I have the greatest difficulty in preventing my fair friend -Charlotte from spoiling the whole business; for she is in one of her -violent fits, and then she gets as mad as a March hare. She and I must -act together; but I must not appear in the business; for you see there -are two or three little things that the people might bring against me. -I have resolved, therefore, to get over to Winterton, till to-morrow's -work is blown over; for she will be present to witness the marriage, -do what I can to stop her. As the mischief would have it, however, I -threatened to blow the whole matter up, if she would not submit to -management; and so she will not let me out of her sight, threatening -at the same time to cut my throat, or some pretty little thing of that -kind by way of making herself a pleasant companion. However, she must -go with me, that's clear, and come over in a chaise tomorrow to the -wedding. If she does not spoil all, and this man here can be kept in, -we have got them completely in our power." - -"Why, what in fortune's name can he have to do with Lord Lenham's -marriage?" asked Harry Wittingham. - -"I don't know, exactly," answered Captain Moreton, musing gravely; -"but I have a good many suspicions about him, which it won't do to -mention just yet. All I ask, is to have him kept in here, till after -the marriage is over; and you will have nothing further to do with it, -than to keep the key of the room and prevent any of the girls from -going in. By so doing you will punish him ten times more than if you -licked him for an hour. I know you are not given to be afraid of any -thing; but, if people should make a fuss about it, it is very easy to -say you did it, to punish him for knocking you down the way he did." - -Harry Wittingham smiled; and the moment after Captain Moreton -continued: "Here she comes, by Jove; I'll get out of the way for the -present, and cram some meat down that fellow's throat without untying -him. You'll stay, Wittingham, won't you? I shall be back to-morrow -night." - -"Why, I must stay, I suppose," said Harry Wittingham; "for good old -Dame Billiter thinks I shall be here till to-morrow night; and I -expect her to send me up some money, if she can get it." - -Captain Moreton did not wait for any thing further than this assent, -but disappeared by the right-hand door; and the moment after, the fair -lady, whom I have so often mentioned, entered by the other. Her face -was somewhat redder than usual; but that was the only sign of -agitating passions that could be discovered in her demeanour. Her step -was calm, stealthy, and cat-like; her eyes looked cold and flat, with -a meaningless sort of glassy glare about them, as if purposely covered -by a semi-opaque film to veil what was passing beneath. She looked -slowly round the room, without taking any notice of Mr. Wittingham, -though she had not seen him that day; and, walking round to the -mock-rosewood sofa, she sat down in silence and took some papers out -of the drawer of the table. Harry Wittingham wished her good morning, -and addressed to her some commonplace observation, to which she -replied with a forced smile, and then busied herself with her papers -again. When Captain Moreton re-entered the room about a quarter of an -hour afterwards, a sudden fierce gleam came into her eyes and passed -away again; but she uttered not a word; and, dinner being announced -soon after, she took Mr. Wittingham's arm and walked into the small -dining-room. When the meal was over, and she left the gentlemen to -their wine, she passed by Captain Moreton's chair, and bending down -her head, she said in a low voice, but loud enough for Mr. Wittingham -to hear: - -"Remember, Moreton, remember! You know me!" - -Captain Moreton only laughed, though the words were said with a -threatening manner; and, as soon as she was gone, he plied Harry -Wittingham with wine, which was followed by brandy-and-water; and in -the pleasant occupation thus provided, the two worthy compeers -continued to exercise themselves, till the sky grew grey, and the roll -of a chaise was heard before the garden. - -"There, Wittingham," cried Captain Moreton, starting up, "there's the -key of the little cellar--small enough, but there's sufficient in it -to lay you dead-drunk for a fortnight. There's the key of the cage, -too; keep the bird safe till ten or eleven o'clock to-morrow. I will -try to keep my grey mare in hand; and, if we can manage both, -you will hear some news tomorrow night, that will make you laugh -heartily--Farewell, my good fellow," and going to the door, he shouted -aloud, "Where's the portmanteau?" - -"I put it in the shay, Sir," said the girl; and, turning once more to -Harry Wittingham, Captain Moreton told him that he should see him -before ten the following night, and went to seek his fair companion. - -In a few minutes more they were gone; but the gentleman they left -behind did not see any reason why he should not finish the bottle of -wine on the table, "just to take the taste of the brandy out of his -mouth." After that he fell asleep in an armchair; and so sound was his -slumber, that the maid came in twice and looked at him; but seeing -that there was no probability of his waking for some hours, she put a -fresh pair of candles on the table, and went to bed. - -Harry Wittingham slept and dreamed: He thought he had committed some -horrible act, that the hue and cry was raised, the whole county in -pursuit, and that he could hear the galloping of horses coming close -after him. He struggled to spur his own beast forward, but its legs -would not move; and, looking down with horror and consternation, he -found it was a rocking-horse with little bells at its ears and its -tail. Suddenly a constable seemed to grasp him by the shoulder; and, -starting up in agony, he found the servant-girl shaking him. - -"Please, Sir," she said, "Mrs. Billiter has sent up the man to say, -that your father is dying, and you must go down directly." - -Without a moment's thought or consideration, Harry Wittingham ran out, -snatched up his hat in the passage; and, telling the man to follow on -foot, mounted the horse and rode away to Tarningham. - - - - -CHAPTER XL. - - -The sun shone bright in Stephen Gimlet's cottage for a couple of hours -after dawn, till about an hour before evening's close. For the first -three or four hours the same sunshine seemed to pervade the interior -house, that glowed without. Widow Lamb seemed contented with what she -had done; her meek face wore as warm a smile as ever now shone upon -it; and she busied herself during the morning in all the little -household arrangements, and in teaching the boy his letters. The boy -himself played about merrily, whilst she was occupied with the -inanimate things of the place, and then came and said his letters, -infamously ill, indeed, but still somewhat better than usual. When the -sun got round to his southern-most point, Widow Lamb, not at all -surprised at her son-in-law's absence, as its probability had been -announced beforehand, gave the boy his dinner, and took a very -moderate portion of food herself; but, when the day had three or four -hours declined from its prime, she wondered that Stephen had not come -back, and, at the end of an hour, grew somewhat uneasy. She consoled -herself, however, by supposing, that Lord Lenham had not yet returned -from London, and that Stephen was waiting for his arrival; but another -hour passed, and another; and at length her son, Billy Lamb, made his -appearance, inquiring somewhat anxiously for his brother-in-law. - -Mrs. Lamb simply told him, that Stephen was out, adding that he had -been away all day. - -"It is droll I haven't seen him," said the boy, "but I dare say he is -vexed about his dog." - -"Why, what has happened to the dog?" asked Widow Lamb. "He took it out -with him this morning early." - -"Ay, but the people of Tarningham killed it for a mad dog," said Billy -Lamb, "I dare say the poor beast was not mad at all. I saw it -afterwards and knew it directly; but I have seen nothing of Stephen." - -"He is up at Sir John's," said Widow Lamb, "and I dare say is waiting -till the young lord comes down from London." - -"No, that can't be, mother," replied her son, "for the gentleman came -down yesterday evening; one of our post-boys drove him." - -"That's very odd," said Widow Lamb, "I wonder Stephen has not come -back then. I hope nothing's the matter." - -"Oh, dear no," replied the deformed lad; "you know Ste was always fond -of wandering about, and would, at times, be out for a couple of days -together; but I wanted to tell him that I have found out nothing about -that Captain Moreton, except that he is going away from the cottage -somewhere to-night. I did not see him myself, when I took up the -letters to him to-day; but the servant-girl told she had been sent up -to Buxton's Inn to order a chaise, and that it was to be down there -just at nightfall." - -"Ay, ill birds fly at night," said Widow Lamb; "but I wish Stephen -would come home, for he has been now gone well-nigh twelve hours." - -"Oh, he is safe enough, mother," reiterated her son, "it is not like -if it were night-time, or winter either--but I must get back; for -there will be all the supper-beer to carry out;" and, after a few more -words, he departed. - -Hour after hour, however, went by; and Stephen Gimlet did not appear, -till the good old lady's apprehensions increased every minute. She put -the boy to bed and sat up and watched; but eight, nine, ten o'clock -came, and no one approached the cottage-door. A terribly anxious night -was that which followed; and, though about midnight Widow Lamb went to -bed, sleep did not visit her eyes for some hours. She lay and revolved -all, that could have happened. She was anxious for her son-in-law; -anxious for the result of his mission to Beauchamp; and she had -resolved to set off early on the morrow morning for Tarningham Park, -taking the boy with her. At about half-past three, however, weariness -overpowered the old woman, and she slept. Her frame was not very -strong; and, exhausted with both watching and anxiety, the slumber -that fell upon her was profound and long. The first thing that awoke -her was the little boy pulling her by the arm and saying, "Granny, -granny, you are a sluggard now, as you called me the other day. I am -very hungry, I want my breakfast." - -Widow Lamb started up, and looking at her old round watch in its -tortoiseshell-case, she saw that it was half-past seven o'clock. Vexed -and angry with herself, she hurried on her clothes, and proceeded to -give the boy some food, urging him to hasten his meal, as she was -going to take him a walk. The temptation was strong, and at about a -quarter past eight they were out of the cottage, and on the way to -Tarningham Park. She heard village-bells ringing merrily, as on a day -of festival; but Widow Lamb's heart was sad. The whole country was -smiling in the morning light; but, though to a fine mind the beauties -of nature never lose their charm, yet to the old there is, at all -times, a melancholy mingled with the pleasure they produce; and to the -spirit cast down with apprehension, or affliction, the very loveliness -becomes a load. The boy lingered, and would fain have played by the -way; but his grandmother hurried him forward as fast as his little -legs could carry him; and they reached the mansion of Sir John -Slingsby a few minutes before nine. There were carriages already at -the door. Servants were seen bustling about; but all were too busy to -take notice of the old widow and the little boy, till, going into the -court-yard, she addressed herself to one of the helpers in the stable, -whom she had seen and known, and told him her apprehensions about her -son-in-law. - -The man kindly undertook to make inquiries, and let her know the -result; and leaving her there for some minutes, he came back shortly -after with the butler, who told her, that Stephen Gimlet had certainly -not been there the day before. "I can't stop to talk with you, goody," -he said, in an important tone; "for you see Miss Slingsby is just -going to set out, to be married to Lord Lenham; but, as soon as they -come back from church, I will tell Sir John; and depend upon it he -will have Stephen sought for." - -"If I could speak with Lord Lenham for one minute," said Widow Lamb; -but the man interrupted her, laughing. "You must go down to -Tarningham, then, goody," he said, "for his lordship slept there last -night; or else you can go down to the church of Little Tarningham, -where, I dare say, he is waiting by this time; or, what is better than -all, wait here till they come back; and I'll give Ste Gimlet's little -boy a bit of bride-cake." - -As he spoke, he hurried back again into the house; and Widow Lamb -paused and thought, with the tears in her eyes; but at length she said -aloud, "I will go down to the church;" and, taking the little boy by -the hand, who did not at all like the idea of losing the bride-cake, -she hurried out of the gates of the court, and pursued one of the -small footpaths leading towards Little Tarningham. She was within -fifty yards from the park paling, when Sir John Slingsby's carriages -drove past at a quick rate; and Widow Lamb, though little able from -much exertion, hurried her pace, till the boy was forced to run, to -keep up with her. The church, as the reader knows, was at the distance -of somewhat less than half a mile; and, when Widow Lamb reached it, -there stood before the gates of the little churchyard, two or three -handsome carriages and one post-chaise. Passing quickly along the path -through the cemetery, the old woman approached the door, which was -ajar, and heard the full sonorous voice of Dr. Miles reading the -marriage-service. She pushed open the door gently and went in. There -were a great number of people in the church, collected from Tarningham -and the neighbourhood, some in the little gallery, where they could -see best; some in pews in the body of the church; and one or two in -the aisle. The latter, however, did not prevent the old lady from -seeing straight up to the altar, around which was congregated the -bridal party, with Beauchamp and Captain Hayward on the one side, and -Sir John Slingsby with his family on the other. Just as Widow Lamb -entered, Dr. Miles, standing before the altar, was saying aloud, "I -pronounce that they be man and wife together." - -It was evident the ceremony was nearly over; the marriage in fact -completed. The benediction was then given, and the psalm said; and, -after all those parts of the service, which are usually read, -Beauchamp drew the arm of Isabella through his own and led her down -the aisle towards the little vestry which stood on the right hand side -of the church. The people in the pews rose up to look over; but, to -the surprise of many, one of the pew-doors opened, before the -newly-married couple had taken two steps; and a lady issued forth, -and, turning her face towards the altar, stood right in the way of the -advancing party. Her eye fixed straight upon Lord Lenham, flashing and -fierce; her lip curled with a smile of contemptuous triumph, while her -brow appeared knit with a heavy frown. At the same moment a voice, -which some persons near recognised as that of Mr. Wharton, the -attorney, exclaimed from the pew which the lady had just left, "Now -she has spoiled it all." - -But what was the effect of this apparition upon those in whose -presence it so suddenly appeared? Beauchamp staggered and turned -deadly pale; and Isabella recoiled in alarm from that menacing look -and flashing eye, saying in a low tone, "Good Heaven, who is this?" - -"Who am I, girl?" said the lady, aloud, "I will tell you who I am, and -let him deny it if he can. I am this man's lawful wife whom you have -just married--look at his face, pale, dastard conscience is upon it. -He is well aware of the truth that I speak and the crime that he has -committed." - -But Beauchamp instantly recovered himself, and while a dead silence -prevailed in the whole church, he put Isabella's hand into her -father's, advanced a step towards the person before him, and fixing -his eyes firmly upon her, he said, - -"Charlotte Hay, you have laid once more a dark and horrible scheme to -injure me. By cunning artifices and long concealment you have taught -me to believe you were dead for some years, and have waited for this -moment for your revenge--you know it, you dare not deny it--but you -may yet find yourself deceived. In one point you are already deceived; -for, doubtless, judging from your own heart, you imagine I have -concealed previous events from this lady and her family. Such is not -the case; and now you force upon me that which I have always avoided, -the trial whether there ever was any marriage at all between myself -and you." - -"Avoided it, because you knew it could not be questioned," answered -the lady, scornfully. "Your father and yourself took lawyers' opinion -enough, and the reply of every one was that the marriage was perfectly -good and valid." - -"Not worth a straw," said a voice behind her, and turning round with -the look of a demon the eyes of Charlotte Hay lighted on Widow Lamb, -who had walked quietly up the aisle at the commencement of this scene. -For a moment or two she gazed at her as if striving to recall her -face, and then gave a short scream, muttering afterwards to herself, - -"I know who has done this, I know who has done this!" - -"What is this, my good woman?" cried Mr. Wharton, stepping out of the -pew, and putting himself at the side of Charlotte Hay. - -Sir John Slingsby was darting forward towards him with wrath in his -countenance, but Doctor Miles held him by the arm, and Widow Lamb -replied boldly, - -"What I said, Mr. Wharton, was that this lady's pretended marriage -with Lord Lenham, then Mr. St. Leger, was no marriage at all." - -"But why? were you present? what can you know about it? are you one of -the judges of the ecclesiastical court?" asked Mr. Wharton, with -amazing volubility. - -"I am no judge, and was not present though I was in the house," -answered Widow Lamb; "but it was no marriage at all, and I can prove -it, so you need not be terrified, dear young lady, for you are his -lawful wife at this very moment." - -Charlotte Hay turned towards Isabella with a look of withering scorn, -and exclaimed, - -"You may be his concubine, girl, if you like, but you can never be his -wife as long as I live." - -"I say she is his wife," cried Widow Lamb, indignantly, "just as much -as you are the wife of Archibald Graham, the minister of Blackford, my -husband David Lamb's first cousin. You thought all trace of that -marriage was removed; you knew not that there are people living who -witnessed the marriage; you knew not that I had your marriage lines -now in my possession, and a letter from your real husband written long -after Captain Moreton took you away from him, and after your pretended -marriage with this gentleman." - -"Produce them, produce them," cried Mr. Wharton, "let us see what -these wonderful documents are. Such papers often turn out mere -moon-shine in a court of law." - -"At all events, Sir, this church is not a court of law," said Dr. -Miles, advancing, "such matters must not be argued here, and I must -remark that if this lady had any just cause to oppose this marriage -she was bound to state it when called upon in the solemn manner which -the ritual prescribes. How the fact of her not having done so may -affect the legal questions implicated is not for me to say, but I must -declare that her not having tendered her opposition at the proper -moment was highly wrong, and does not give a favourable impression of -her case." - -The lady turned her fierce eyes upon the rector, and then glared over -the rest of the party, but seemed without a reply, for she made none. -Mr. Wharton came to her assistance with a falsehood, however. - -"The lady was too much overpowered, Sir, to speak," he said, "and I -was not formally authorised by her to do so. But as to this old woman, -I demand that the documents she mentions be produced, for I have every -reason to believe that this is a mere pretext, in fact a case of fraud -originating in conspiracy, and I shall not scruple to give the good -lady into custody if I can find a constable, unless she instantly -produces the documents." He looked full at Widow Lamb while he spoke, -and then added, "Have you got them? can you produce them?" - -"I have not got them here," answered the old woman in a faltering -tone, somewhat alarmed at the threat of a man who had ruined her -husband, "but they are safe enough, I am sure, and they shall be -produced whenever there is a trial." - -"Oh, oh!" cried Mr. Wharton, "what time to manufacture them! But I -will take care of you, my good lady. I will see for a constable -directly, and--" - -"Nonsense, you rogue!" cried Sir John Slingsby, "you know very well -that such a thing is out of the question. You can manufacture no -charge upon such a ground, whatever others may manufacture." - -"Rogue, Sir John," cried Mr. Wharton, furiously, "that man is the -rogue who does not pay his just debts, and you know whether the name -applies best to me or to you." - -"To you, lawyer Wharton," said Stephen Gimlet, coming up the aisle, -"there, hold your tongue, for I heard all your talk with Captain -Moreton this morning, and how you settled all your differences upon -his promising you what you called a _post obit bond_, to pay you five -thousand pounds upon the death of Lord Harcourt Lenham. There, Goody -Lamb, there is the letter you gave me yesterday; I'll tell you how it -all happened that I could not deliver it by-and-by." - -"Here are the papers, here are the papers!" cried the widow, tearing -open the letter; "here are the marriage lines, as the people call them -in Scotland, between Charlotte Hay and Archibald Graham, and here is -poor Archy's letter to my husband written long after." - -"You had better get into the chaise and go," whispered Mr. Wharton to -the lady, who now stood pale and trembling beside him, and then -raising his voice as if to cover her retreat, he continued: "take -notice, Sir John Slingsby and all persons here present, that I charge -the noble lord there with the crime of bigamy in having intermarried -with Isabella Slingsby, his wife Charlotte Hay being still living, and -that I at once pronounce these things in the old woman's hands merely -forgeries got up between her and Viscount Lenham while he was staying -at the cottage of her son-in-law Stephen Gimlet, _alias_ Wolf. You -will act as you like, Sir John, but it is only a friendly part to say -that if you have any regard for your daughter you will separate her at -once from one who is not and cannot be her husband." - -Thus saying he walked with a well-assured air to the door of the -church, neither turning to the right nor to the left, but the moment -he turned away Ned Hayward quitted the side of Mary Clifford, and -with a quick step followed the lawyer. He let him pass through the -churchyard and open the gate, but then going up to one of the -post-boys standing by Beauchamp's carriage, the young officer said, - -"Lend me your whip one moment." - -The man at once put it in his hand, and the next instant it was laid -over Mr. Wharton's shoulders some five or six times with rapid and -vigorous reiteration. - -"I think the price is five pounds," said Ned Hayward, nodding his head -to the smarting and astounded attorney; "it is cheap, Mr. Wharton, and -perhaps I may require a little more at the same price. Good morning," -and he re-entered the church, while the servants and post-boys gave a -grand shout, and Mr. Wharton sneaked away vowing vengeance for a -future day. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. - - -"Come into the vestry," said Dr. Miles, in a low tone to Beauchamp, -"you have many things, my lord, to consider; and we have here the eyes -of a multitude upon us, the ears of a multitude around us." - -"You had better go back to the park," said Sir John Slingsby, who had -overheard the good old rector's words, "there we can talk the matter -over at leisure." - -"The register must first be signed," said Dr. Miles, gravely, "for -whatever be the result, the ceremony has been fully performed--come, -my lord. The circumstances are, undoubtedly, very painful; but it -seems to me they might have been much worse." - -With slow steps and sad hearts the whole party followed; Isabella, -pale as death, looking down upon the ground, and Beauchamp with his -lip quivering and his brow contracted, but his step firm and regular, -as if the very intensity of his feelings had, after the first moment, -restored him all his energies. As they passed through the vestry-door -Isabella raised her eyes for an instant to his, and saw the deep -dejection which was written on his countenance. She touched his arm -gently to call his attention, and said, as he bent down his head, - -"Do not be so sad, you have nothing to reproach yourself with." - -"That is some consolation, dear girl," replied Beauchamp, in a low -voice, "but still I must be sad. How can it be otherwise, when I have -to part with you for a time even at the very moment I call you my -own?" - -Isabella did not reply, but her cheek varied, first glowing warmly, -then becoming deadly pale again. - -"Where is Ned Hayward?" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, looking round, -"where the devil have you been, Ned?" he continued, seeing his young -friend coming in at the vestry-door. - -"I have been horsewhipping Wharton," answered Ned Hayward, in an -indifferent tone; "but now, Lenham, what are you going to do in this -business?" - -"To go to London directly," answered Beauchamp, "and bring this matter -to an issue at once." - -"Pooh, the woman is not married to you at all!" cried Sir John -Slingsby, "the whole thing is a farce; still I think you are right." - -"I am quite sure you are," said Ned Hayward, "and I will go with you, -if you will let me, Lenham. But first we must talk with good Widow -Lamb; examine these papers of hers accurately; ascertain exactly all -the circumstances and be prepared with every sort of evidence and -information. Cheer up, cheer up, my dear lord. Honour and -straightforward dealing always set these things right at last. Shall I -call in the old woman? she is standing out there by the vestry-door." - -"By all means," said Dr. Miles, "it may be as well to make all these -inquiries here, and determine at once what is to be done. The crowd of -gaping idlers from Tarningham will disperse in the meantime--sit down -here, Isabella, and be firm, my child, God does not desert those who -trust and serve him." - -While he was speaking, Ned Hayward had beckoned Widow Lamb and Stephen -Gimlet into the vestry, and Dr. Miles, taking the papers from the old -woman's hands, examined them carefully. - -"The very appearance of these documents," he said, at length, "puts -the idea of forgery, or at least, recent forgery, quite out of the -question. No art could give all the marks of age which they present. -But we can have another and a better assurance, I believe, than the -mere look of the papers--" - -"But what are they, what are they, doctor?" asked Sir John Slingsby, -"I have not yet heard the exact import of either." - -Isabella moved nearer to the clergyman while he explained, and all -other eyes were fixed eagerly upon him. - -"This first and most important document," he said, "purports to be -what is called in Scotland the marriage lines of Archibald Graham, -student in divinity, and Charlotte Hay, the daughter of Thomas Hay, of -Green-bank, deceased, within the precincts of Holyrood--which means, I -suppose, that he died in debt. The paper--I have seen such before--is -tantamount to a marriage-certificate in England. The marriage appears -to have been celebrated in one of the parishes of Edinburgh, and I -have lately had cause to know that very accurate registers are kept in -that city, so that the authenticity of the document can be ascertained -beyond all doubt." - -"But the date, the date?" cried Beauchamp. - -"The date is the 4th February, 18--," said Dr. Miles, "just thirteen -years ago last February." - -"Nearly two years before the execution of their villanous scheme -against me," said the young nobleman; "so far, at least, all is -satisfactory, but what is the other paper?" - -"Hardly less important," replied Dr. Miles, whose eye had been running -over the contents while he conversed, "but it will require some -explanation. I would read it aloud, but that some of the terms are -more plain and straightforward than ladies' ears are accustomed to -hear. It is signed Archibald Graham, however, dated five years ago, -and addressed to David Lamb, who died in Tarningham some two years -back. He speaks of his wife Charlotte, and tells his cousin that he -hears she is still living in adultery with Captain Moreton. He says -that as her seducer's property is somewhere in this neighbourhood she -is most likely not far distant, and begs David Lamb to seek her out, -and beseech her, upon Christian principles, to quit her abandoned -course of life. The good man--and he seems a really good man--says -further, that although he can never receive or see her again, he is -ready to share his small stipend with her in order that she may not be -driven by poverty to a continuance in vice; but he seems to have been -ignorant of her pretended marriage with Lord Lenham--at least, he -makes no allusion to it." - -"That was because he never knew it, Sir," said Widow Lamb; "I beg -pardon for speaking, but the way it all happened was this. Old Mr. Hay -had spent all he had and had taken to Holyrood to avoid his creditors. -Archy Graham, who was then studying divinity in Edinburgh, had been -born not far from Green-bank, and finding out Mr. Hay, was very kind -to him and his daughter. Though he was not very rich himself--for he -was only the son of a farmer well to do--he often gave the old laird -and the young lady a dinner when they could have got one nowhere else, -and when Mr. Hay was taken ill and dying, he was with him every day -comforting him. He paid the doctors, and found them food and every -thing. When the old man died the young lady was left without any means -of support. At first she thought of teaching, for she had learned all -kinds of things in other times, but people were not very fond of her, -for she had always been too gay for the Scotch folks, and there was -something flighty in her way that was not liked. It was need, not love -or gratitude either, I believe, that made her marry poor Archy Graham. -Soon after he got the parish of Blackford, and went there to have the -manse ready, leaving his wife in Edinburgh. He was only gone six -weeks, but he never saw her again, for when he came back to take her -to her new home, he found that she had been receiving the visits of a -very gay gentleman for some time, and had, in the end, gone away with -him in a phæton about a week before he arrived. Eight or nine months -after that a gay young lady came to stay on a visit at old Miss -Moreton's, with whom my poor husband David Lamb was greeve, or what -you call steward in England. I had gone down with her as her maid, and -had married the steward about eight years before, for my poor girl -Mary was then about seven years old. We saw this Miss Hay, as she -called herself, very often, but never thought she was the runaway wife -of my husband's cousin. Indeed, we knew little of the story till long -after. Captain Moreton was generally at his aunt's house, though he -often went away to England, and we all said he was going to marry the -pretty young lady, if they were not married already, as some thought. -But then he brought down his cousin Mr. St. Leger with him, and soon -after we heard of the marriage by consent when Mr. St. Leger had drank -too much, and about his going away in haste to England, and we all -said that it was a great shame, though we did not know it was as bad -as it was. About four months after old Miss Moreton died, and one day -the captain came down in great haste to my husband and told him a long -story about his being on the point of selling the property; but that -he would take good care, he said, that David Lamb should not be out of -employment, for his father, the Honourable Mr. Moreton, would take him -as steward if he would go up to Turningham directly. My husband said -it would be better for him to stay on the ground till Miss Moreton's -estate was sold, but the captain seemed in a great hurry to get us -off, for he said that his father was very anxious to have a Scotch -bailiff as they farmed so well, and he promised all kinds of things, -so that what with one persuasion or another we were away in a week to -Edinburgh, to take ship there for England. There we met with Archy -Graham, who afterwards came to visit us, and he and my husband had a -long talk about his unfortunate marriage, all of which I heard -afterwards; but David Lamb was a man of very few words, and he did not -mention to his cousin any thing about our having seen his wife at old -Miss Moreton's, though it seems the minister was even then going down -there to try and separate her from Captain Moreton, for he had found -by that time who it was that took her away, and it was because he had -written, several letters to the gentleman, and threatened to come -himself directly, that the captain was in such a hurry to get us away -to England." - -"I do not understand why your husband did not tell the whole truth," -said Dr. Miles, gravely, "it might have saved great mischief, Mrs. -Lamb." - -"I know that, Sir," replied the widow, "but there are great -differences in the way men think of such things. I asked my husband -afterwards why he did not mention all about the marriage with Mr. St. -Leger, but he said he wanted to hear more about it before he opened -his mouth to any one; that he was not sure they had set up this law -marriage as a real marriage at all; and that it might be only a sort -of joke, so that if he spoke he might do more mischief than was -already done. I knew him to be a very prudent, thoughtful man, very -sparing, too, of his words, and it was not for me to blame or oppose -him." - -"Very true, Mrs. Lamb, very true," said Dr. Miles. - -"Well, your reverence," continued the widow, "he did try to hear more -of the business as soon as he had time to think of any thing but -himself and his own affairs; for, poor man, when he came here he found -that old Mr. Moreton had no occasion for a bailiff at all; and knew -nothing at all about him. We were going back to Scotland, again, after -having spent a mint of money in coming up to London and then down -here; but my husband fell ill of rheumatic fever, and for six months -was confined nearly to his bed. All--or almost all that we had saved -was gone, and we had to try for a livelihood here as we best could. We -did better than might have been expected for some time, and David made -many inquiries in regard to his cousin's wife and her second marriage -with Mr. St. Leger; but he only heard that the young gentleman was -travelling, and that they had certainly never lived together. Then -came the letter from Archy Graham; and my husband, whose health was -failing, consulted me about it, and I said, that at all events, it was -a pity Mr. St. Leger or Lord Lenham, as he was by that time, should -not know all the truth, for no one could tell how needful it might be -for him to prove that he was never really married to Charlotte Hay, -and David wrote back to his cousin, asking him to send him up proofs -of his marriage with the lady. So that brought up the marriage lines, -and I have kept them and the first letter ever since my husband's -death." - -"And is Archibald Graham still living?" asked Beauchamp, who had been -listening with painful attention. - -"He was living not two years ago," answered Widow Lamb; "for he wrote -to me at the time of my husband's death, and sent me up ten pounds to -help me. Poor David had not neglected what he thought of doing, when -he asked for the proofs; but we could hear nothing of you, my lord. -You had been very kind to my poor boy, and I always put my husband in -mind of the business, so that he wrote to you once, I know, saying -that he had important information for you if you could come to -Tarningham." - -"I recollect," said Lord Lenham, "such a letter followed me into -Italy; but I did not recollect the name, and thought it but a trick of -that unhappy woman." - -"Well, my lord, the case seems very clear," said Doctor Miles; "but -your immediate conduct in this business may require some -consideration. Perhaps we had better all go up to the park and talk -the matter over with Sir John at leisure." - -"No, my dear Sir," answered Beauchamp in a firm tone, "my conduct is -already decided. If you please, we will just walk to your house for a -few minutes, I dare say all the people are gone by this time. Come, -Isabella, there will be peace for us yet, dear one;" and he gave his -arm to his bride, who drew down her veil to hide the tears that were -in her eyes. - -All the party moved forward but Sir John Slingsby, who lingered for a -moment, and laid his hand kindly upon the widow's arm. "You are a good -woman, Mrs. Lamb," said the old baronet, "a very good woman; and I am -much obliged to you. Go up to the park, Mrs. Lamb, and take the little -boy with you. I'll come up and talk to you by-and-by; but mind you -tell the housekeeper to take good care of the little man, and give him -a hunch of bride-cake. I don't think there will be much eaten in the -house by any one else. You go up too, Ste, and wait till I come." - -When Sir John followed to the rectory, which was somewhat slowly, he -found the rest of the party in the rector's drawing-room. Now the -house was built upon a plan not uncommon, and very convenient for -studious bachelors like Dr. Miles. The drawing-room on the right side -of the entrance hall opened by folding doors into a library, which -formed a right angle with it running along the back front of the -house--for houses have contradictions as well as human beings, and I -may add many a man has a back front to his character as well as many a -house. The library occupied one-half of that side, the dining-room the -other half; the offices all the left of the entrance hall and the -staircase the centre. - -Beauchamp, at the moment of the baronet's entrance, was speaking to -Dr. Miles and Ned Hayward in the bay window, Isabella was seated at -some distance, with her hand in her aunt's, and Mary Clifford was -leaning tenderly over her. But the position of all parties was soon -changed. - -"The sooner the better, then," said Dr. Miles, in answer to something -Beauchamp had said, and turning away, the young nobleman approached -Isabella, and took her hand, saying, "Speak with me one moment, love." - -Isabella rose, and her husband led her into the library, and thence to -the dinning-room, leaving the doors open behind him. "Dearest -Isabella," he said, "forgive me for all the terrible pain I have -caused you--but you know it was that I was deceived, and that for the -world I would not have inflicted such distress upon you -intentionally." - -"Oh, I know it, I know it," said the poor girl, her tears flowing -fast. - -"But out of evil springs good, dear Isabel," continued Beauchamp, "by -this day's misery and anxiety, I trust we have purchased peace and -happiness for the future. Yet for me, my beloved, remains one more -painful effort. Till the decision of the law is pronounced upon all -the circumstances of this case, I must leave you, dear girl. No -happiness that your society can give me must induce me to place you in -a doubtful position. I must leave you, then, my dear Isabella, my -bride, my wife, even here almost at the steps of the altar; but I go -to remove every obstacle to our permanent reunion, and I trust in a -very few weeks to clasp you to my heart again, mine beyond all -doubt--mine for ever. I knew not, dear girl--I hardly knew till now, -how dearly, how passionately, I loved you, but I find from the -difficulty of parting with you, from the agony of this moment, what it -is to love with the whole heart. That very love, however, requires me -to go. Therefore, for a short, a very short, time, farewell, my love;" -and he threw his arms around her, and pressed one kiss upon her lips. - -"Oh, do not go, do not go yet," said Isabella, clinging to him. "Oh, I -was so happy this morning, Henry, I felt quite oppressed with it. I am -sure there is a dizziness of the heart as well as of the brain--but -now I shall go home and weep all day!" - -"Nay, do not do that, dear girl," said Beauchamp, "for our parting is -but for a short time, beloved. Every one judges that I am right in -going. Do not let me think my Isabella thinks otherwise, do not render -more bitter what is bitter enough already, by a knowledge that you are -suffering more than is needful. Cheer thee, my Isabella, cheer thee, -and do not give way to grief and apprehension, when our fate is -lightened of half of its weight, by the certainty, the positive -certainty, that there is no serious barrier between us." - -"I will try," said Isabella, "I will try; and I believe you are right, -but still this is all very sad," and the tears poured down her face -afresh. - -When Beauchamp came forth, however, Isabella came with him, and was -calmer; but she would not trust herself to speak till he was gone. The -parting was then soon over. Ned Hayward, called up the carriage, gave -some directions regarding his own baggage to Sir John Slingsby's -servants, and bade farewell to Mary Clifford and the rest. Beauchamp -once more pressed Isabella's hand in his, and hurrying out sprang into -his carriage, Ned Hayward followed, and one of the post-boys, -approaching the side after a servant had shut the door, touched his -hat, and asked, "Will you go by Winterton or Buxton's inn, my lord?" - -"By Winterton," answered Beauchamp, mechanically, and in another -minute the carriage was rolling on. - -For about twenty minutes Sir John Slingsby remained talking with Dr. -Miles, and then the party which had set out from Tarningham Park, so -happy and so gay, not two hours before, returned sad and desolate. -Even the old baronet's good spirits failed him, but his good humour -did not; and while Isabella retired with Mary to her own room, he -called Widow Lamb and Stephen Gimlet into his library, after having -assured himself that the little boy was taken good care of by the -housekeeper, he repeated his sage commendation of the old woman's -conduct, saying "You are a good woman, Widow Lamb, a very good woman, -and you have rendered very excellent service to us all this day. Now I -am not so rich as I could wish to be just now; but I can tell you what -I can do, and what I will do, Widow Lamb. Stephen, here, has his -cottage as keeper. It is a part of his wages at present; but I might -die, you know, or the property might be sold, Widow Lamb, and then -those who came in might turn him out. Now I'll give you a lease of the -cottage and the little garden, and the small field at the side--they -call it the six acres field, though there are but five acres and two -roods, and the lease shall run for your two lives. You may put in the -little man's life too, if you like; and the rent shall be crown a -year, Widow Lamb. I'll have it done directly. I'll write to Bacon to -draw the lease this minute," and down sat Sir John Slingsby to his -library table. - -"I beg your pardon, Sir," said Stephen Gimlet, approaching with a -respectful bow, "but I think it would be better not to give the lease -just yet, though I am sure both I and Goody Lamb are very much -obliged; but you recollect what that bad fellow, attorney Wharton, -said about the papers being forged, and if you were to give us any -thing just now, he would declare we were bribed; for he is a great -rascal, Sir, as I heard this morning." - -"You are right, yon are quite right, Stephen," replied Sir John -Slingsby; "and Wharton is a great rascal. I am glad that Ned Hayward -horsewhipped him; I dare say he did it well, for he is a capital -fellow, Ned Hayward, and always liked horsewhipping a scoundrel from a -boy. But what was it you overheard this morning, Stephen? I hope you -were not eavesdropping, Ste. That is not right, you know." - -"Not I, Sir John," answered the gamekeeper, "but I could not help -hearing. I'll tell you how it all was in a minute. Yesterday morning I -was coming over here with the papers which Goody Lamb gave me for Lord -Lenham; but I took a bit of a stroll first, and just when I was close -upon Chandleigh Heath, Captain Moreton jumped out of a hedge upon me -in front, and young Harry Wittingham pinioned my arms behind, and -before I could do any thing for myself, they had a rope tight round my -elbows, and got me away to the lone cottage, where they shut me up in -a room with bars to the windows, and kept me there all day and all -last night. I did not sleep much, and I did not eat much, though the -captain crammed some bread into my mouth, and gave me a pail of water, -out of which I was obliged to drink like a horse; but they never -untied my arms. However, I heard a good deal of going about, and a -carriage-wheels, and some time after--it must have been twelve or one -o'clock at night--there was a great ringing at the bell, and people -talking, and I heard young Wittingham's voice, and then some one -galloped away on horseback. But nobody came to let me out, and I sat -and looked at the day dawning, wondering when all this would come to -an end. I looked long enough, however, before I saw a living soul, -though about six I heard people moving in the house. About an hour -after I saw poor Billy Lamb out of the window, creeping about in the -garden as if he was on the look out for something, and I put my foot -to one of the panes of glass, and started it in a minute. That was -signal enough for the good lad, and he ran up and put his face to the -window, whispering to me to make no noise, for Captain Moreton had -just come in in a gig, and had met Mr. Wharton at the door, and they -were both in the drawing-room together. I was not going to stay there, -however, like a rat in a trap a minute longer than needful; so as soon -as I found that Bill had his knife in his pocket, I made him put his -arm through the broken pane, and cut the cords round my elbows. I then -got his knife to open the door, but the one I came in by was bolted as -well as locked, so I couldn't get out that way. But there was another -door at the side, and I forced the lock back there soon enough. That -let me into the dining-room which had two doors too. Through one of -them I could hear people talking loud, and the other was locked. I -could not manage to open it, and though I had a great longing to go in -and give Captain Moreton a good hiding, yet as they were two to one, -and I was half-starved, I thought it might not turn out well, and -stayed quiet where I was. Then I heard them talking, and Wharton said -he could hang the captain; and I thought it very likely. But the -captain said to do that would put nothing in Wharton's pocket, and he -had better take his _post obit_, as he called it, for five thousand -pounds, which would give him a chance of something, and come over with -him to Winterton, and keep the lady quiet if she would go to the -church. There was a good deal of dirty haggling about it, but I made -out that the woman whom he called Charlotte was going to be at the -wedding, and that she had a great spite at his lordship, and I guessed -all about the rest from what Goody Lamb had told me. So as soon as -they had gone off in the gig together, which was not more than two or -three minutes after, I walked out through the drawing-room, -half-scared the servant girl into fits, and came away to little -Tarningham church, sending Billy Lamb up to my cottage. That is the -whole story, Sir." - -The old baronet commended his keeper highly, and vaticinated that -attorney Wharton would be hanged some day, in which, however, he was -mistaken, for that gentleman lived and prospered; and his tombstone -assures the passer by that he died universally regretted and -respected! - -The day passed heavily at Tarningham Park, and Isabella remained all -the morning in her own room. It was a very bitter cup that she had to -drink; for to apprehension and disappointment was added another -painful sensation. To her it was inexpressibly distressing to be made -the talk of the common public, She had felt that the very announcement -of her marriage in the public newspapers, the gazing crowd in the -church, the spectacle and the rumour in fact which attend such events, -were any thing but pleasant. But now to be the topic of conversation, -the object of tales and rumours, to be pitied, commiserated, perhaps -triumphed over--be even slandered, added deeply to all she suffered -both on Beauchamp's account and her own. However, she made a great -effort to conquer at least the natural expression of her feelings. She -knew that her father, her aunt, her cousin, all felt deeply for her, -and she was resolved to cause them as little pain as possible by the -sight of her own. She washed away all traces of tears, she calmed her -look, she strove not to think of her mortification, and at the -dinner-hour she went down with a tranquil air. Her room was on the -side of the house opposite to the terrace, and the principal entrance, -but she had to pass the latter in her way to the drawing-room. As she -did so, she saw a carriage and post-horses at the door, and as she -approached the drawing-room she heard a voice loved and well-known. -She darted forward and entered the room. Beauchamp and Captain Hayward -were both there, as well as her father and Mary Clifford. The very -effort to conquer her own feelings had exhausted her strength, and joy -did what sorrow had not been able to do. Ere she had taken two steps -forward she wavered, and ere Beauchamp could reach her, had fallen -fainting to the ground. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. - - -With bitter disappointment at his heart, with the dark shadow which -had hung so long over his existence, turning all the rosy hopes of -life to the leaden gray of the grave, now returned after a brief -period of brighter expectations; with the cup of joy snatched from his -hand at the very moment he was raising it to his lips, Beauchamp -leaned back in his carriage, and gave himself up for a few minutes to -deep and sorrowful meditation. He remembered well when first the -feeling of love was springing up in his heart towards Isabella -Slingsby; that upon mature consideration of his fate he had determined -to crush it in the bud, to batter down the fountain of sweet waters, -which he feared some malific power would turn to poison, and never -attempt to link the fate of that dear girl to his sorrowful one, even -by the gentle tie of mutual affection; and now he almost regretted -that he had not kept his resolution. It is true, circumstances had -changed; it is true, there were good hopes that the evil star of his -destiny seemed likely to sink, and a brighter one rise; but yet a mind -long accustomed to disappointment and sorrow, can with difficulty be -brought to listen to the voice of hope without having the warning -tongue of fear at the same time. All seemed to promise well; for the -removal of that heavy weight which had oppressed his heart, kept down -his energies, crushed love and joy, and left him nought in life but -solitude and disappointment, and despair. But still his experience of -the past taught him to expect so little from the future, that he dared -not indulge in one vision of relief, and although he had used the -words of hope to Isabella, he could not apply the balm to his own -wound. - -Ned Hayward sat beside him quietly, and let him think for about ten -minutes; and he did so for two reasons. In the first place, he knew -that it was very vain to offer consolation so soon after a bitter -mortification had been received; and, in the next place, he did not -wish to rouse his companion from the reverie till they had passed -Tarningham Park; for he judged that the sight of scenes, associated in -memory with happy hopes now removed afar, would only add poignancy to -disappointment. However, when the park was passed (and the four horses -went at a very rapid rate), he commenced the conversation in a way the -most likely to lead Beauchamp's mind from the more painful points of -his situation, to fix them upon those more favourable. - -"Of course, Lenham," he said, with an abruptness that made his -companion start, "before you act even in the slightest particular, you -will consult some counsel learned in the law. This seems a case in -which, with management, you have the complete command over your own -fate; but proper where a few false steps might be very detrimental, so -far, at least, as delay in the determination of the affair for some -months." - -"I know not, my dear Hayward," answered Lord Lenham, "how this may -turn out; but circumstances have rendered me, once the most hopeful -and light-hearted of human beings, the most desponding. I have a sort -of impression upon me, that the result will not be so favourable as -you anticipate. I have to oppose long practised cunning and the most -unscrupulous use of every means, however base and wrong. I must -remember, too, that this business has been long plotting, and, depend -upon it, that nothing which a perverted human mind could do to -obliterate every trace of this former marriage, has been left undone. -Depend upon it the conspiracy has been going on for some time, and -that the concealment of this woman's existence has been intentional -and systematic. In fact nothing could be more artful, nothing more -base, but nothing more evidently pre-arranged than all the steps which -they have taken within the last two or three months. Even on the very -sale of her goods, which took place in Paris about a month ago, it was -announced by public advertisement that they had been the property of -the late Charlotte Hay, Lady Lenham. I am afraid neither I nor any -lawyer, however shrewd, will be found equal to encounter this woman, -whose cunning and determination I never knew matched." - -"She seems a precious virago indeed," said Ned Hayward; "but never you -fear, my dear lord. I don't setup to be a Solomon, but there's a maxim -which I established when I was very young, and which I have seen break -down very much less frequently than most of his proverbs that will go -in your favour, if we but manage properly. It is this: 'Rogues always -forget something.' Depend upon it it will hold good in this instance. -Indeed we see that it has; for these good folks forget completely the -marriage certificate in the hands of Goody Lamb. Doubtless that -certificate will be easily verified, so as to put its authenticity -beyond all doubt; then nothing will remain but to prove the existence -of your predecessor in the fair lady's affections at a period -subsequent to her pretended marriage with yourself." - -"That may be difficult to do," said Beauchamp. - -"Not in the least," cried Ned Hayward. "He has written to the good old -widow within two years, it seems. Of course they will try to shake her -testimony, and, though I don't think that can be done, we must be -prepared with other witnesses. Now you and I don't in the least doubt -the old woman's story, and if that story is true, her husband's -cousin, this fair lady's husband, was living, and the clergyman of a -place called Blackford, not two years ago. Every body in his parish -will know whether this is true or not, and a Scotch minister's life is -not usually so full of vicissitudes as to admit the possibility of a -difficulty in identifying that Archibald Graham, of Blackford, was the -husband of Charlotte Hay." - -"You should have been a lawyer, Hayward," said Beauchamp, with a faint -smile, "at all events, you prove a very excellent counsellor for my -hopes against my fears." - -"A lawyer! Heaven forefend!" exclaimed Ned Hayward, laughing; "a -soldier is a much better thing, Lenham; aye, and I believe when he -knows his profession, more fit to cope with a lawyer than almost any -one else. It is always his business to mark well every point of his -position, to guard well every weak part; and then, having taken all -his precautions, he advances straightforward at the enemy's works, -looking sharp about him that he be not taken in flank, and he is -almost sure to carry the field if his cause be good, his heart strong, -and his army true." - -Such conversation was not without its effect upon Beauchamp's mind. -Hope is the next thing to happiness, and hope returned, becoming every -moment more and more vigorous from the cheerful and sanguine character -of his companion. At length Ned Hayward looked out at the window, -exclaiming, - -"Here we are coming to Winterton, I suppose, where we change horses. -Devil take those post-boys, if they go at that rate through the crowd -they will be over some fellow or another." - -"Crowd," said Beauchamp, and he too put his head to the window. - -The little solitary inn at Winterton-cum-Snowblast was on the side of -the road next to Ned Hayward, but when Lord Lenham, leaning forward, -looked out, he saw some forty or fifty people, principally country -folks, ostlers, and post-boys collected round the door of the house. -There was a sprinkling of women amongst the various groups, into which -they had fallen, and in the midst appeared a common post-chaise with -the horses out, while a man on horseback was seen riding away at a -jolting canter. - -"There's something the matter here," said Beauchamp, "I will tell one -of the servants to ask." - -As he spoke the chaise dashed on towards the inn-door, and Ned -Hayward's prediction of the consequences likely to ensue had nearly -been verified, for so eagerly were many persons in the crowd engaged -in conversation, that they did not change their position until the -last moment, and then a general scattering took place, which in its -haste and confusion had well-nigh brought more than one man or woman -under the feet of the leaders. - -"Horses on," cried the wheel post-boy, as he drove up, speaking to the -ostler of the inn, whose natural predilection for post-horses called -his attention to the carriage sooner than that of any other person in -the crowd. - -"We ha'n't got two pair in," he said, in reply, "without that pair -which is just off the shay; we been obliged to send off one this -minute to the magistrates about all this here business." - -"What is the matter, my man?" said Ned Hayward, out of the -carriage-window, "what business is it you are talking of?" - -"I had better call master, Sir," said the ostler, pulling the brim of -his old hat with a somewhat renitent look, as if he did not like to -answer the question; "he'll be here in a minute." - -"This seems something strange," said Beauchamp, "we had better get out -and see. Open the door, Harrison." - -The servant, who was standing with his hand upon the silver knob of -the carriage-door, instantly did as he was ordered, and threw down the -steps with a degree of vehemence customary to lackeys and serviceable -to coach makers. Ned Hayward being next to the door got out first, and -as he put his right foot to the ground, the landlord of the inn came -up, bowing low to the first occupant of a carriage which had two -servants behind and a coronet on the panel. The bow would have been -much more moderate to a simple yellow post-chaise. - -"What is the matter here, landlord? Has any accident happened?" - -"Why, yes, my lord," replied the landlord, supposing our friend to be -the proprietor of the vehicle, "a terrible accident, too--that is to -say not exactly, either--for it is clear enough the thing was done on -purpose by some one, who, it is not for me to say till the magistrates -come." - -"But what is it? what is it?" said Beauchamp, who followed; "you seem -to be very mysterious." - -"Why, you see, my lord," replied the landlord, who thought he could -not be far wrong in honouring both gentlemen with the same title, -"it's an awkward business, and one does not like to say much, but the -gentleman's got his throat cut that's certain, and whether he did it -himself or whether the lady did it for him seems a question. All I can -say is, I saw him sound asleep on the sofa five minutes before she -came back. He had a glass of brandy-and-water and two fried eggs just -after she went away with attorney Wharton, and seemed quite in his -right mind then, only a little tired with sitting up so late last -night and getting up so early this morning--but you don't seem well, -Sir," he continued, seeing Beauchamp turn a look to the countenance of -Ned Hayward, with a cheek that had become as pale as death--"had not -you better come in and take something?" - -"Presently, presently," said Beauchamp, "go on--what were you saying?" - -"Nothing, Sir, but that the lady seems dreadfully wild, and I can't -help thinking she's out of her mind--I always did for that matter." - -"Is the gentleman dead?" asked Beauchamp, in a low tone. - -"No, Sir, not quite dead," said the landlord, "and the surgeon is a -sewing up of his throat, but it is no good I'm sure, for the room is -all in a slop of blood." - -"Do you know his name?" said Beauchamp. - -"Why, Captain Moreton, I believe, Sir," said the landlord; "I've heard -so, I don't know it for certain." - -"I will go in and see him," said the young nobleman, and he added, -seeing a look of hesitation on the landlord's countenance, "I am his -first cousin, Sir, my name is Lord Lenham." - -The announcement removed all doubt upon the good man's mind, and -Beauchamp and Ned Hayward walked forward into the inn guided by the -landlord. He conducted them at once upstairs to the rooms which had -been occupied by Captain Moreton and Charlotte Hay. At one of the -doors on the landing-place they saw a man standing with his arms -folded on his chest, but the landlord led them past to the room in -front of the house, first entering quietly himself. It was a ghastly -and horrible scene which presented itself when Beauchamp and Ned -Hayward could see into the room. The floor, the carpet, the sofa, were -literally drenched with gore, and even the white window-curtains were -spotted with dark-red drops. On the sofa, with an old white-headed man -and a younger one leaning over him, was the tall, powerful frame of -Captain Moreton. His face was as pale as death, his eyes sunk in his -head, with a livid-blue colour spreading all round them. His temples -seemed as if they had been driven in; the features were pinched and -sharp; the eyelids closed; and the only sign of life apparent was a -slight spasmodic movement of the muscles of the face, when the hand of -the surgeon gave him pain in the operation he was busily performing. -Two or three other persons were in the room, amongst whom was the -landlord's wife, but they all kept at a distance, and the man himself -advanced to the surgeon's side, and whispered a word in his ear. - -"Presently, presently," said the old gentleman, "it will be done in a -minute," but Captain Moreton opened his eyes and turned them round in -the direction of the door. It is probable that he did not see his -cousin for they closed again immediately, but nevertheless his lips -moved as if he fain would have said something. Beauchamp did not -advance till the old surgeon raised his head, and the young man who -was assisting him took his hands from the patient's arms. Then, -however, Lord Lenham moved forward, and in a low tone asked the -medical man the extent of the injury. At the same moment Ned Hayward, -judging that his presence there was useless if not inconvenient, -advanced to a door at the further side of the room, saying to a person -whom he instantly judged to be the mistress of the house, - -"I think we had all better go in here for a minute or two." - -"The lady is in there, Sir," said the landlady, "we have put somebody -in to watch her, for Heaven knows what she may do next." - -Nevertheless, Ned Hayward, who thought that perhaps some information -valuable to his friend might be obtained, opened the door to go in; -but the sight he beheld made him suddenly pause, though it had none of -those very striking and horrible objects which were presented by the -chamber he was just quitting. Yet there was something still, quiet, -and awful about its dark features, which perhaps affected the mind -still more. The room was a bedroom with one window and a door, which -Captain Hayward easily distinguished as that at which he had seen a -man standing on the outside. On the end of the bed sat Charlotte Hay, -dressed exactly as he had seen her in the church, and nearer to him -appeared a strong dull-looking young man seated in a chair with a -constable's staff in his hand. The unhappy woman's position was calm -and easy, and she sat perfectly motionless, with her high colour -unchanged, her hands resting clasped together on her knee, her head -slightly bent forward, and her eye with the peculiar dull glassy film -over it, which we have already mentioned more than once, fixed -earnestly upon the floor. She seemed in deep thought but yet not the -thought of intelligence, but rather the dreamy, idle, vacant pondering -of mental imbecility. There was an indefinable something that to the -eye at once distinguished her state from that of deep reflection, and -a curl of the lip, not quite a smile, yet resembling one, seemed to -mark out the idiot. The shutters of one of the two windows were -closed, so that the room was in a sort of half-light, yet on the spot -to which the gaze of Charlotte Hay seemed attached the sunshine was -streaming gaily, and the contrast between her fate, her prospects, her -history, and the warm, pure light of Heaven, was more painful than the -harmonising gloom of the dungeon could have been. - -When the door was opened by Ned Hayward, though it creaked as -inn-doors will do, upon its hinges, she took not the slightest notice; -indeed, she seemed unconscious of every thing, but the constable who -had been placed to watch her rose and advanced towards the door to say -that nobody could have admission there. - -"When the justices come, Sir," he said, addressing the young officer -in a low tone, "they can do as they like, but nobody shall speak with -her till then." - -As he uttered these words he heard a slight sound and turned his head, -but he turned it too late. Charlotte Hay had instantly taken advantage -of his eyes being withdrawn. She was already near the window, which -was partly open, and as he darted across to lay hold of her she threw -it up and with one leap sprang out. Ned Hayward instantly closed the -door that no sound might reach the other room, and ran forward to the -young man's side, who stood with his head leaning out and his eyes -gazing down below. The house was built on a slight slope, so that the -back was a story higher than the front, yet the height from the window -to the stable-yard could not be more than twenty feet. But the court -was paved with large irregular stones, and there lay the form of -Charlotte Hay still, motionless, and silent. No groan reached the ears -of those who looked down from above--not even a quiver of the limbs -was to be seen. Some of the men in the yard were running up in haste, -and the young officer and the constable hurried down. It mattered -little, however, whether they went fast or slow, for when they reached -the yard they found three men lifting a corpse. Ned Hayward gazed upon -that countenance where fierce and untameable passions had nearly -obliterated mere beauty of feature, but no trace of passion was there -now. All was mournfully calm, and though the eyelids moved once up and -down, there was nought in the eyes when they were for an instant -displayed but the glassy stare of death. The bonnet, which was still -upon her head, was dented in at the top, and a small red stain in the -white silk showed where the blood was issuing slowly forth from some -hidden wound received in the fall. - -They carried her slowly into the house, and placed her on a sofa in -what was called the parlour, while Ned Hayward ran up stairs to call -down the surgeon. When he opened the door, the elderly man whom we -have mentioned was washing his hands at the table, and Beauchamp was -seated by the sofa on which his cousin lay, bending down his ear to -catch the faint words of the wounded man, who seemed speaking to him -eagerly. - -The surgeon raised his eyes as the door opened, and perceiving the -sign which Ned Hayward made him to come out, dried his hands in haste -and went to the door. - -"You must come down directly," said the young officer, "the unhappy -woman has thrown herself out of the window, and though I believe all -human aid is vain, yet it is necessary that some surgeon should see -her at once." - -The old man nodded his head with a grave look, returned for his -instruments which were on the table, and then followed down to the -parlour. He paused a moment by the side of the sofa, and gazed upon -the face of Charlotte Hay with a thoughtful air, then placed his hand -upon the wrist for a few seconds, withdrew it, and said aloud, - -"I can be of no use here--life is extinct. I will examine the head, -however," and taking off the bonnet and cap he pointed with his finger -to a spot on the back of the skull, where the dark brown hair was -matted and dabbled, saying, "Look there! I cannot make a new brain!" - -Ned Hayward turned away with a slight shudder, for though he had faced -death many a time himself, and had seen men fall dead or wounded by -his side, he had never beheld a woman subject to the fate which man is -accustomed to brave. - -"This is a terrible business altogether, Sir," said the surgeon, -following the young officer to the window, "do you know any thing of -it?" - -"Nothing," replied Captain Hayward, "except that I believe the unhappy -woman was mad, for her conduct through life was that of a person -hardly sane. Do you think Captain Moreton likely to live?" - -"Three or four hours, perhaps," replied the surgeon, "certainly not -more. She did her work very resolutely and with a strong hand. The -hemorrhage cannot be entirely stopped; he has already lost an awful -quantity of blood, and he will sink gradually." - -"Then yon think that there is no doubt of her hand having done the -deed?" asked Ned Hayward. - -But the surgeon would not exactly commit himself as far as that. - -"He did not do it himself," was the reply, "that is quite impossible. -The wound is from left to right, and drawn so far round that he could -not have inflicted it with his own hand. He must have been lying on -the sofa, too, when it was done--probably asleep, for the stroke of -the razor was carried beyond the neck of the victim, and cut the -horse-hair cover through and through. The gentleman upstairs with him -is his cousin, I believe?" - -"I believe so," answered Ned Hayward, "but I am not acquainted with -your patient, and therefore cannot say exactly." - -The next moment steps were heard coming down, and Beauchamp and the -landlord entered the parlour. - -"Will you have the goodness to go up to Captain Moreton, Sir," said -the young nobleman, addressing the surgeon, before he saw what the -room contained, "the bleeding from the throat has recommenced and -nearly suffocates him. Hayward, I must stay till this is over," he -continued, as the old gentleman hurried away, but then his eyes fell -upon the sofa, and he caught Ned Hayward's arm and grasped it tight -without uttering a word. For a moment or two he stood motionless as if -turned into stone by the sight before him, and then walking slowly up -to the side of the corpse, he gazed long and earnestly upon the face. -His feelings must have been strange during that long, silent pause. -There before him lay the being who had been the bane of his peace -during all the early brighter years of life; the woman who, without -ever having obtained the slightest hold of those affections by which -the heart when they are misplaced is usually most terribly tortured, -had by one infamous and daring act acquired the power of embittering -every moment of his existence. The long, dreadful consequences of one -youthful error were at end, the dark cloud was wafted away, the heavy -chain broken. He was free! but by what horrible events was his -liberation accomplished! What a price of blood and guilt had they who -had enthralled him paid for their temporary triumph ending in complete -defeat! He could not but feel that by the death of that woman sunshine -was restored to his path, and yet pain and horror at the means of his -restoration to light and happiness quelled every sensation of -rejoicing. Mingled as almost all human feelings are, perhaps never did -man's heart experience such mixed emotions. - -After what seemed a long time to give to any contemplation, he turned -towards Captain Hayward, inquiring in a low tone, - -"How did this happen, Hayward, and when?" - -"A few minutes ago," replied his friend; "the constable who was -watching her came to the door to speak with me, and taking advantage -of his back being turned she threw herself out of the window. Perhaps, -Lenham," he continued, with that good feeling which always in matters -of deep interest sprang up through the lighter things of Ned Hayward's -character--"perhaps it is better that this is as it is. The act was -undoubtedly committed in a state of mind which rendered her -irresponsible for her own conduct. Had she survived, her fate might -have been more terrible, considering another deed in regard to which -it might have been difficult to prove her insanity." - -"God's will be done," said Beauchamp, "that unhappy man is in no fit -state to die, and yet I fear death is rapidly approaching. All his -hatred of myself seems to have given place to the implacable desire of -vengeance against this poor tool of his own schemes. He says that -there is no doubt that she committed the act; that he was sleeping on -the sofa, having sat up late last night and risen early this morning, -and suddenly found a hand pressed upon his eyes and a sharp instrument -drawn furiously across his throat. He started up crying for help, and -beheld the wretched woman with the razor in her hand, laughing, and -asking if he would ever betray her secret again. It is, in truth, a -terrible affair; but I fear his deposition must be taken, and if he is -to be believed she must have been perfectly sane." - -"I wonder if she was ever perfectly sane?" said Ned Hayward, "from all -I have heard I should doubt it--but here comes one of the magistrates, -I suppose, or the coroner." - -It proved to be the former, and the worthy justice first entered the -parlour and examined the corpse of Charlotte Hay as it still remained -stretched upon the sofa. Country justices will have their jests upon -almost all subjects, and though he did it quietly, the gentleman in -question could not refrain from saying, after looking at the body for -a moment, - -"Well, we are not likely to obtain any information from this lady, so -we had better see the other person, who is capable of being more -communicative. Which is the way, landlord? Have this room cleared and -the door locked till the coroner can come, he will take the evidence -in this case. I must get, if possible, the deposition of the gentleman -whom you say is dying." - -Thus saying, with the landlord leading the way and Beauchamp, Ned -Hayward, and one or two others following, he walked slowly upstairs -and entered the room where Captain Moreton lay. The surgeon was -bending over him and holding his head up on his left-arm. But the -moment the old man heard the bustle of many feet, he waved his -right-hand as if to forbid any one to approach. Every body paused for -an instant, and in the midst of the silence that ensued an awful and -very peculiar sound was heard, something like that made by a horse -taking a draught of water, but not so long and regular. It ceased, -began again, ceased; and the surgeon laid Captain Moreton's hand down -upon the sofa-cushion and looked round. - -The magistrate instantly advanced, saying, - -"I must take the gentleman's deposition, Mr. Abbot." - -"You come a little too late, Sir," said the surgeon, "he will make no -more depositions now." - -It was, indeed, as he said. Captain Moreton had just expired, and all -that remained for the magistrate, who was soon joined by one of his -worshipful brethren, was to gain all the information that could be -obtained from the persons in the house regarding the deaths of -Charlotte Hay and her paramour. Beauchamp and Ned Hayward answered the -questions which were addressed to them, but entered into no -unnecessary details. The rest of those who were called upon to give -evidence or volunteered it, were much more garrulous, and as the two -gentlemen remained to hear the whole depositions they were detained -for some hours at Winterton. - -When all was at length over, and Lord Lenham and Ned Hayward stood -before the inn-door, they gazed at each other for a moment or two -without speaking. At length Beauchamp's servant came up from the side -of the carriage, which was ordered some time before, was already -before the house, and inquired, in a commonplace tone, - -"Where shall I tell them to drive, my lord?" - -There was a momentary look of hesitation in the young nobleman's face, -but the next instant he answered in a decided tone, - -"To Tarningham Park," and turning to his friend as soon as they were -once more in the vehicle, he said with a sigh, - -"I will at least carry her the tidings, Hayward, and then--" - -He paused, and Ned Hayward asked, in his usual cheerful tone, - -"And what then, Lenham?" - -"Once more on the way to London," said Beauchamp, adding gravely but -firmly, "there must not be a doubt in her mind as to the validity of -her marriage. I know how one drop of such bitterness can poison the -whole cup of joy; but tell me, Hayward," he continued, in a more -cheerful tone, "when is your own marriage to take place? You have told -me nothing of it yet, but you must not suppose that my eyes have been -shut either yesterday or this morning." - -"I did not mention it because I imagined that you had enough to think -of, Lenham," answered Ned Hayward, "not from either want of frankness -or want of regard, believe me. But to answer your question--the day is -not yet fixed. Mrs. Clifford has consented much more readily than I -expected, Sir John when he heard of it was over-joyous, and Mary's two -guardians, knowing that their power is soon coming to an end, have -determined to use it leniently. Heaven only knows when we first became -acquainted, about three months ago by the side of Mrs. Clifford's -carriage, I little thought therein was my future bride. Had I known -that I stood in peril of love, and that with an heiress, too, I -believe I should have turned my horse's head and galloped all -the way back to London. Nay more, there has not been a day -during the last month, till about a fortnight ago, that finding -myself in imminent danger, I have not been ready to depart, but -circumstances--circumstances, my dear Lenham, those chains of adamant -kept me here, till one day, without at all intending it. I told the -dear girl I loved her, and she bade me stay, so I had nothing to do -but to obey, und now I think in three weeks more, thoughtless Ned -Hayward will be the husband of the sweetest and loveliest girl in the -world." - -"With one exception," said Beauchamp, smiling; "and one of the best -husbands in the world will he make her. But one thing more let me say, -Hayward; as little as you thought of finding marriage on your onward -path when first we met, so little did I think of finding friendship, -as little did I hope for or even wish it; and yet there is nought on -earth I value more than yours except the love of her I love best. -Should the sage lawyers have a doubt as to the validity of my marriage -with Isabella, should they even think it better that the ceremony be -repeated, with the fair lady's leave we will choose the same day, and -stand at the altar like brothers as we have been to one another for -some time past." - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. -Sweeping out the Ball-room. - - -Beauchamp and Isabella were left alone together for a few minutes -before dinner, for Sir John Slingsby and the rest of the party were -considerate. She lay upon the sofa still weak from the effects of the -fainting fit, into which she had fallen, and Beauchamp sat beside her, -holding her hand in his. He had told her all that had happened, gently -and kindly, not dwelling upon dark and horrible particulars, but -showing her simply that the aspect of their fate was altered. He then -went on to tell her his plans, informing her that it was his intention -that night to set off once more for London, in order to ascertain by -the best legal opinions he could obtain, whether their marriage was -really valid, and, in case of finding, that there was even a doubt on -the subject, to have the ceremony performed again; but Isabella -changed all his purposes. - -"Beauchamp," she said, for thus she still always called him, "I think -I know you love me, and will not refuse me a request. It is this: Do -not go to London at all; do not make any inquiries about the validity -of our marriage. Look upon it as invalid, and let it be renewed. In a -few weeks, a very few weeks, Mary is going to give her hand to your -friend Captain Hayward. Let us wait till then, and go with them to the -altar. There may be some painful circumstances to me, some painful -memories. I do not love to be made the subject of conversation and -gossip, and in the church the scene of this morning will come terribly -back to my mind; but in the meantime you will be with me everyday, and -that will compensate for a great deal." - -So it was arranged, and in six weeks from that time the two cousins -were united to the men whom they loved. Difficulties and dangers have -their interest in telling; calm and tranquil happiness has too few -incidents for record. Ned Hayward and Mary took up their abode with -Mrs. Clifford, and the fair bride had never any cause to repent that -she had discovered in her husband something deeper, finer, nobler than -those who had given him the name of thoughtless Ned Hayward. Certainly -there were some changes came over him. He was as cheerful, as -sunshiny, as frank and ready as ever; but he was not quite so fond of -fishing, shooting, and hunting. He liked a quiet walk or ride with -Mary better. He found out for himself a new employment also, and -devoted a great part of his time to the regulation of Sir John -Slingsby's affairs, easily gaining his old friend's consent, upon the -plea that he wanted occupation. His rapid perception of the bearings -of all things submitted to him, his strong good sense and quick -resolute decision, soon brought those affairs into a very different -condition from that in which he found them; and Sir John Slingsby -found, that by proper regulation, with an income diminished by the -careless extravagance of many years, he had really more to spend than -when his revenue was nominally much larger. - -Isabella and Beauchamp were as happy as the reader has already judged -they would be. He was looked upon by his acquaintances as a grave and -somewhat stern man; but Isabella had reason to know, that in domestic -life he was cheerful, gentle, and kind; for it was only in the -heartless bustle and senseless chatter of ordinary society that there -came over him a shadow from the long consequences of one only error. - -We have but few other characters to dispose of. Mr. Wharton's history -has already been told. Mr. Bacon did much better in life than might -have been expected. Although he was an honest man, he met with a -tolerable degree of success, strange to say. Aiding Ned Hayward in the -regulation of Sir John Slingsby's affairs, he became in the end a sort -of agent or law-steward to the baronet. Beauchamp, who bought the -Moreton property in the end, employed him in the same capacity; and -two other gentlemen in the country finding that matters throve in his -hands, made him their agent also. He never gave them any cause to -complain, and derived a very comfortable income from the exercise of -this branch of his profession; but, what is far more extraordinary, in -no instance did the property of his employers pass from them to him. - -Stephen Gimlet in course of time became the head keeper to Sir John -Slingsby, was well to do in the world, and gave his boy a very good -education. Widow Lamb lived for nearly ten years after the events -which have been lately detailed, and she had the happiness of seeing -her poor boy William, by kind assistance given when most needed, and -judiciously directed when given, rise from the station in which we -first found him to be, at six-and-twenty years of age, the landlord of -the White Hart at Tarningham; and often on a summer's evening, when -there was not much to do in the place, he would stand at his inn-door, -and thinking over all the strange events he had seen in his youth with -a melancholy feeling of the difference between himself and other men, -he would whistle the plaintive melodies of which he was so fond in -boyhood, as if imagination carried him altogether away into the realms -of memory. - -There is but one other character, perhaps, that deserves any mention; -and, though his career was brief, we may speak of it more at large. -Harry Wittingham took possession of his father's large property with -title undisputed. A pompous funeral excited half-an-hour's wondering -admiration in the people of Tarningham when the old gentleman was -committed to the grave; and for some short time hopes were entertained -even by wise and experienced persons, that young Wittingham would -change his mode of life, become more regular and careful in his -conduct, and cast away the vices and follies that had disgraced him. -For a fortnight he remained almost entirely at home examining papers, -looking into affairs, and showing no small talents for business. A -number of small sums, lent out by Mr. Wittingham on interest, were -called in rather sharply, and some considerable purchases of land were -made, showing a disposition on the part of the young gentleman to -become a county proprietor. His reputed wealth, as is always the case -in England, whatever a man's character may be, procured him a good -deal of attention. People of high respectability and good fortune, -especially where there were two or three unmarried daughters, called -and left their cards; but Harry Wittingham's chief visitor and -companion was his friend Mr. Granty, and two or three county gentlemen -of the same stamp, who wore leather breeches and top-boots, rode -handsome horses, and sported a red coat in the hunting season. The -establishment kept up by old Mr. Wittingham was greatly increased, -even within a month after his death. There were two more grooms in the -stables, two more footmen in the hall, but this was no sign of -extravagance, for the property could well afford it, or even more; but -yet there was a sort of apparent uneasiness of manner, an occasional -gloom, an irritability upon very slight occasions, upon which neither -prosperity nor the indulgence of long thwarted tastes had any effect; -and Mr. Granty himself, in conversation with a friend, thought fit to -wonder what the devil Harry Wittingham would have, for he seemed never -contented, although he possessed as good a fortune as any man in the -county. - -At length Harry Wittingham gave a dinner party, and fixed it, without -any knowledge of the coincidence, upon the very same day when Mary -Clifford bestowed her hand upon Ned Hayward. When he discovered that -such was the case some short time before the party met, he became very -much irritated and excited, but pride would not permit him to put the -dinner off, and his friends assembled at the hour named. Seven persons -appeared punctually as the clock struck the hour, and shortly after -descended to the dining-room, where delicacies and even rarities were -provided in abundance, with the choicest wines that could be procured -from any quarter. The soup was turtle, brought expressly from London; -but Harry Wittingham himself did not taste it. He ate a good deal of -fish, however, and asked several persons to drink wine, but it -appeared as if he determined to keep his head cool, for he merely -bowed over his glass and put it down. Mr. Granty, who well knew his -old habits, was surprised at his abstemiousness, and thought it hardly -fair, for he had himself determined to have a glorious night of it at -the expense of Harry Wittingham's cellar, and such conduct in the host -seemed likely to chill the drinking propensities of his guests. - -"Come, Wittingham," he cried at length, "let us have a glass of -champagne together." - -"With all my heart," answered his entertainer, and the champagne was -poured out. - -"Now, Wittingham, drink fair," said Mr. Granty, laughing; "for hang -me, if you have tasted a drop to-day--this way, at one draught." - -"With all my heart," answered Harry Wittingham, and raised his glass. -He held it to his lips for a moment, and then with a sudden and very -apparent effort, drank the wine, but a sort, of convulsive spasm -instantly spread over his whole face; it was gone in a moment however, -and as if to conceal it, he said something sharply to his butler about -the wine not being good. "It was corked," he said; and Mr. Granty -laughing, cried, - -"Try another bottle." - -Another bottle was brought, and the glasses filled all round. Harry -Wittingham raised his with the rest, but instantly set it down again, -and pushed it away from him, murmuring with a haggard look, "I can't!" - -As may be easily expected, this very peculiar conduct had its effect -upon his guests. The party was a dull one, and broke up early, every -one remarking, that Mr. Wittingham tasted not one drop of all the many -wines that circulated round his table. - -When every one was gone, he rang the bell sharply, and told the -servant to go for Mr. Slattery. - -"Tell him to come directly, I do not feel well." - -In ten minutes more the surgeon was in the house, felt his pulse, -looked at his tongue, asked a few questions, and then said with a -smile, - -"A little fever!--a little fever! I will send you a cooling draught, -and all will be quite right to-morrow, I dare say." - -"Don't send me a draught," said Harry Wittingham, "I can't drink it." - -"Oh, it shall be as good as wine," said Mr. Slattery. - -"Good or bad, it does not matter," answered the young gentleman, -staring somewhat wildly in his face; "I tell you I can't drink it--I -drink not at all--I hate the very thought of drinking." - -Another quick, short spasm crossed his countenance as he spoke; and -Mr. Slattery, sitting down beside him with a somewhat dubious -expression of countenance, hemmed for a moment or two, and then said, - -"Why, what can one give you then? But tell me a little more of the -symptoms you feel," and he put his hand upon the pulse again. "Have -you any headache?" - -"No," answered Harry Wittingham, "I have a sort of burning in my -throat." - -"Great irritation of stomach?" said Mr. Slattery, in a solemn tone. -"Have you met with any accident lately? Run a nail into your hand or -foot, or any thing of that kind?" - -"No," answered Harry Wittingham, "but a damned dog bit me just above -the heel six weeks ago, and it is not quite well yet." - -"Let me look at the wound," said Mr. Slattery, "it may be producing -irritation." - -The shoe and stocking were soon removed, and Mr. Slattery perceived -four distinct marks of a dog's fangs in the tendon and muscles of -Harry Wittingham's leg. At each there was a round lump raised above -the skin, and from two of them a small, sharply-defined red line was -running up the leg towards the body. - -Mr. Slattery bled him largely immediately, and telling him he dared -say he would be quite well in two or three days, returned home, and -sent off a man on horseback to the county town for a bottle of the -Ormskirk medicine. The Ormskirk medicine arrived; but instead of being -well in two or three days, in not much more than a week after Harry -Wittingham was in his grave. - - - -THE END. - - - - ---------------------------------- -PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER. - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Beauchamp, by -G. P. R. 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P. R. (George Payne Rainsford) James"> - -<meta name="Publisher" content="Bernhard Tauchnitz"> -<meta name="Date" content="1846"> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> -<style type="text/css"> -body {margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF;} - - -p.normal {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} -.center {margin: auto; text-align:center; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} - - - -p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:20%;} - -p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} -.text10 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:10%; margin-right:0px; font-size:90%;} -.text20 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:20%; margin-right:0px; font-size:90%;} - - - -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} - -span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} -span.sc2 {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:90%;} - -hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt} - -hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} - -hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} -hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} - -p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} -p.hang2 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:0em;} - - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's Beauchamp, by G. P. R. (George Payne Rainford) 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: Beauchamp - or, The Error. - -Author: G. P. R. (George Payne Rainford) James - -Release Date: April 30, 2016 [EBook #51898] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEAUCHAMP *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided from -Google Books (Harvard University) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> -1. Page scan source: Google Books<br> -https://books.google.com/books?id=32oWAAAAYAAJ<br> -(Harvard University)</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>COLLECTION</h4> -<h5>OF</h5> -<h3>BRITISH AUTHORS.</h3> -<h4>VOL. CVII.</h4> - -<hr class="W20"> - -<h4>BEAUCHAMP BY G. P. R. JAMES.<br> -<span style="font-size: smaller">IN ONE VOLUME</span>.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<table style="margin-left:10%; width:80%;"> -<tr> -<td colspan="2"><h3>TAUCHNITZ EDITION.</h3> - -<h5>By the same Author.</h5></td> -</tr><tr> -<td>MORLEY ERNSTEIN (WITH PORTRAIT)</td> -<td>1 vol.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>FOREST DAYS</td> -<td>1 vol.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>THE FALSE HEIR</td> -<td>1 vol.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>ARABELLA STUART</td> -<td>1 vol.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>ROSE D'ALBRET</td> -<td>1 vol.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>ARRAH NEIL</td> -<td>1 vol.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>AGINCOURT</td> -<td>1 vol.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>THE SMUGGLER</td> -<td>1 vol.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>THE STEP-MOTHER</td> -<td>2 vols.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>HEIDELBERG</td> -<td>1 vol.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>THE GIPSY</td> -<td>1 vol.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>THE CASTLE OF EHRENSTEIN</td> -<td>1 vol.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>DARNLEY</td> -<td>1 vol.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>RUSSELL</td> -<td>2 vols.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>THE CONVICT</td> -<td>2 vols.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>SIR THEODORE BROUGHTON</td> -<td>2 vols.</td></tr> -</table> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>BEAUCHAMP;</h3> - -<h5>OR,</h5> - -<h4>THE ERROR.</h4> -<br> -<h5>BY</h5> -<h4>G. P. R. JAMES.</h4> - -<br> -<h4><i>COPYRIGHT EDITION</i>.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<h4>LEIPZIG<br> -BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ<br> -1846.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>BEAUCHAMP;</h3> -<h5>OR,</h5> -<h4>THE ERROR.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER I.</h4> -<h5>The Attack and the Rescue.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was in the reign of one of the Georges--it does not matter which, -though perhaps the reader may discover in the course of this history. -After all, what does it signify in what king's reign an event -happened, for although there may be something in giving to any -particular story "a local habitation and a name," yet there is -nothing, strange to say, which gives one--I speak from my own -experience--a greater perception of the delusiveness of every thing on -earth, than the study of, and deep acquaintance with the annals of a -many-lined monarchy. To see how these spoilt children of fortune have -fought and struggled, coveted and endeavoured, obtained or have been -disappointed, hoped, feared, joyed, and passed away--ay, passed, so -that the monumental stone and a few historic lines from friend and -foe, as dry as doubtful, are all that remains of them--it gives us a -sensation that all on earth is a delusion, that history is but the -pages of a dream-book, the truest chronicle, but a record of the -unreal pageants that are gone.</p> - -<p class="normal">However that may be, it was in the reign of one of the Georges--I wont -be particular as to the date, for Heaven knows I am likely to be -mistaken in the curl of a whig, or the fashion of a sleeve-button, and -then what would the antiquaries say?</p> - -<p class="normal">It was in the reign of one of the Georges--thank Heaven, there were -four of them, in long and even succession, so that I may do any thing -I like with the coats, waistcoats, and breeches, and have a vast range -through a wilderness of petticoats (hooped and unhooped, tight, loose, -long, short, flowing, tucked up), to say nothing of flounces and -furbelows, besides head-dresses, in endless variety, patches, powder, -and pomatum, fans, gloves, and high-heeled shoes. Heaven and earth -what a scope!--but I am determined to write this work just as it suits -me. I have written enough as it suits the public, and I am very happy -to find that I have suited them, but in this, I hope and trust, both -to please my public and myself too. Thus I wish to secure myself a -clear field, and therefore do declare, in the first instance, that I -will stand upon no unities of time or place, but will indulge in all -the vagaries that I please, will wander hither and thither at my own -discretion, will dwell upon those points that please myself as long as -I can find pleasure therein, and will leap over every unsafe or -disagreeable place with the bound of a kangaroo. That being settled, -and perfectly agreed upon between the reader and myself, we will go on -if you please.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was in the reign of one of the Georges--I have a great mind to dart -away again, but I wont, for it is well to be compassionate--when a -gentleman of six or seven-and-twenty years of age, rode along a -pleasant country road, somewhere in the west of England. It was -eventide, when the sun, tired with his long race, slowly wends -downward to the place of his repose, looking back with a beaming -glance of satisfaction on the bright things he has seen, and like a -benevolent heart, smiling at the blessings and the benefits he has -left behind him.</p> - -<p class="normal">The season of the year was one that has served poets and -romance-writers a great deal, and which with very becoming, but -somewhat dishonest gratitude, they have praised ten times more than it -deserves. It was, in short, spring--that season when we are often -enticed to wander forth by a bright sky, as if for the express purpose -of being wet to the skin by a drenching shower, or cut to the heart by -the piercing east wind--that coquettish season that is never for ten -minutes in the same mind, which delights in disappointing -expectations, and in frowning as soon as she has smiled. Let those who -love coquettes sing of spring, for my part, I abhor the whole race of -them. Nevertheless, there is something very engaging in that first -youth of the year. We may be cross with its wild tricks and sportive -mischief, we may be vexed at its whims and caprices as with those of -an untamed boy or girl, but yet there is a grace in its waywardness, a -softness in its blue violet eyes, a brightness in its uncontaminated -smile, a lustre even in the penitential tears, dried up as soon as -shed, that has a charm we cannot, if we would, shake off. Oh yes, -youth and spring speak to every heart of hope, and hope is the magic -of life! Do you not see the glorious promise of great things to be -done in that wild and wayward boy? Do you not see the bright assurance -of warmer and mellower days to come in that chequered April sky? -Youth, and spring, and hope, they are a glad triad, inseparable in -essence, and all aspiring towards the everlasting goal of thought--the -Future.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was the month of May--now if poets and romance-writers, as we have -before said, have done injustice, or more than justice to spring, as a -whole, never were two poor months so scandalously overpraised as April -and May. The good old Scotch poet declares that in April,</p> - -<pre> - Primroses paint the sweet plain, - And summer returning rejoices the swain, -</pre> - -<p class="continue">but rarely, oh, how rarely, do we ever see primroses busy at such -artistical work; and as for summer, if he is returning at all, it is -like a boy going back to school, and lingering sadly by the way. Such, -at least, is the case now-a-days, and if the advice of another old -poet, who tells us,</p> -<pre> - Stir not a clout, - Till May be out, -</pre> -<p class="continue">would seem to prove that in ancient times, as well as at present, May -was by no means so genial a month, as it has pleased certain -personages to represent it. Nevertheless, we know that every now and -then in May, comes in a warm and summer-like day, bright, and soft, -and beautiful, full of a tempered sunshine, appearing after the cold -days of winter, like joy succeeding sorrow, and entendered by the -memories of the past, such was the sort of day upon which the -traveller we have spoken of rode on upon his way through a very fair -and smiling country. The season had been somewhat early in its -expansion; the weather had been unusually mild in March; frequent and -heavy showers had succeeded in April, and pouring through the veins of -the earth the bountiful libation of the sky, had warmed the bosom of -our common mother to a rich and lovely glow. The trees were all out in -leaf, but yet not sufficiently unclosed to have lost the rich variety -of hues, displayed by the early buds. The colouring would have been -almost that of autumn, so bright and manifold were the tints upon the -wood, had it not been for a certain tenderness of aspect which spoke -of youth and not decay. There was the oak in its red and brown, here -and there mingled with the verdant hue of summer, but beside it waved -the beech, with its long arms robed in the gentlest and the softest -green, the ash pointed its taper fingers in the direction where the -wind was going, and the larch lifted up its graceful spire, fringed -with its grass-like filaments, while its beautiful cones, full of -their coral studs, afforded ornaments, that queens might be proud to -wear. The fields were spangled with a thousand flowers, and every bank -and hedge was jewelled with vegetable stars; not only the pale violet, -and the yellow primrose, but the purple columbine and the white -hawthorn, even the odorous-breathed cowslip, the wild geranium, and a -long list beside, were all spreading their beauty in the evening air, -and glittering with the drops of a shower not long passed by. -Overhead, too, the sky was full of radiance, warm yet soft, deep in -the azure, yet tinted with the evening light, as if the sunbeams were -the threads of a crimson woof woven in with the blue warp of the sky.</p> - -<p class="normal">But enough of this, it was a very fine evening, of a very fine day, of -a very fine season, and that surely was enough to make any man happy -who had good health, a guinea in his purse, and had not committed -either murder or bigamy. The horseman seemed to feel the influence of -the scene as much as could be expected of any man. When he was in a -green bowery lane, with the wild plants trailing up and down the red -banks, and he could neither look to the right nor to the left, he -whistled snatches of a popular song, when he rose the side of the -hill, and could gaze over the world around, he looked at the green -fields, or the clear stream, or the woody coverts with searching and -yet well satisfied eyes, and murmured to himself, "Capital sport here, -I dare say."</p> - -<p class="normal">He seemed to be fond of variety, for sometimes he trotted his horse, -sometimes made him canter, sometimes brought him into a walk, but it -would appear that there was a certain portion of humanity mingling -with the latent motives for these proceedings, inasmuch as the walk -was either up or down a steep hill, the canter over a soft piece of -turf wherever it could be found, and the trot, where the road was -tolerably level. Ever and anon, too, he patted the beast's neck, and -talked to him quite friendly, and the horse would have answered him in -the same tone, beyond doubt, if horses' throats and tongues had been -formed by nature with the design of holding long conversations. Such -not being the case, however, all the beast could do to express his -satisfaction at his master's commendations, was to arch his neck and -bend down his under lip till it touched his chest, and put his -quivering ears backwards and forwards in a very significant manner. It -was a handsome animal, of a bright bay colour, about fifteen hands and -a half high, strongly built, yet showing a good deal of blood, and its -coat was as soft and shining as satin. There was a good deal of red -dust about its feet and legs however, which showed that it had made a -somewhat long journey, but yet it displayed no signs of weariness, its -head had no drowsy droop, like that of a county member on the back -benches at three o'clock in the morning after a long debate. Oh no, -there was muscle and courage for forty miles more, had it been -necessary, and the noble beast would have done it right willingly. The -horseman rode him well--that is to say, lightly, and though he was -tall, muscular, and powerful in frame, many a man of less weight would -have wearied his horse much more. His hand was light and easy, his -seat was light and easy, and his very look was light and easy. There -was no black care sat behind that horseman, so that the burden was not -burdensome, and the pair went on together with alacrity and good -fellowship. The gentleman's dress was in very good taste, neither too -smart nor too plain, well fitted for a journey, yet not unfitted for a -drawing-room in the morning. This is enough upon that subject, and I -will not say another word about it, but as to his face, I must have a -word or two more--it was gay and good-humoured, and though it might be -called somewhat thoughtless in expression, yet somehow--I know not -very well from what cause--when one examined it one was convinced that -the thoughtless look was more a matter of habit than of nature. He was -dark in complexion, but with a healthy glow in his cheeks, and though -certainly his face was not as perfect as that of the Apollo of -Belvidere, yet few would have scrupled to pronounce him a good-looking -man. There was also an easy, almost careless swinging, rapid air about -him, which generally engages kindly feelings, if it cannot secure much -respect; and one could not watch him come cantering over the lea, with -his open, smiling face, without judging he would make an entertaining, -good-humoured companion, with whom any body might pass a few hours -very pleasantly.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus he rode along, blithe as a lark, till the sun went down in glory, -showing at the distance of about a couple of miles, the spire of a -small church in a small town--or perhaps I had better call it a -village, for I am not sure that it had grown up to townhood in those -days.</p> - -<p class="normal">The hint I have given that he could see the spire of the church must -have shown the reader, that at the moment of the sun's setting he was -on the brow of a hill, for there are no plains in that part of the -country, and it was well wooded also. Down from the spot at which he -had then arrived, in a line very nearly direct towards the spire, -descended the road, crossing first a small patch of common, perhaps -not twenty acres in extent, and then entering between deep, shady -banks, as it went down the hill, not only arched over with shrubs, but -canopied by the branches of tall trees. There was quite sufficient -light in the sky to show him the entrance of this green avenue, and he -said to himself, as he looked on, "Wat a pretty approach to the -village; how peaceful and quiet every thing looks."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was not aware that he had work to do in that quiet road, nor that -it was to be of anything but a peaceful character, but so it is with -us in life, we never know what is before us at the next step. We may -scheme, and we may calculate; we may devise, and we may expect, but, -after all, we are but blind men, led we know not whither by a dog, and -the dog's name is, Fate.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he saw that he was so near the village, he slackened his pace, -and proceeded at a walk, wishing, like a wise and experienced -equestrian, to bring his horse in cool. At the first trees of the road -a deeper shade came into the twilight. About half a mile farther it -became quite dark under the boughs, whatever it might be in the open -fields; the darkness did not make him quicken his pace, but the minute -after he heard some sounds before him which did. It is not very easy -to explain what those sounds were, or by what process it was, that -striking upon the tympanum of his ear, the two or three air-waves -conveyed to his brain a notion that there were people in danger or -distress at no great distance. There was a word spoken in a sudden and -imperative tone, and that was the first sound he heard, and then there -was a voice of remonstrance and entreaty, a woman's voice, and then -something like a shriek, not loud and prolonged, but uttered as if the -person from whose lips it came caught it as it was issuing forth, and -strove to stifle it in the birth; some loud swearing and oaths were -next heard, mingled with the noise of quick footfalls, as if some one -were running fast towards the spot from the side of the village, and -the next moment the horseman perceived, at the first indistinctly, and -then clearly, a number of objects on the road before him, the largest, -if not the most important of which was a carriage. At the head of the -horses which had drawn it stood a man with something in his hand which -might be a pistol. At the side of the vehicle were two more, with a -saddled horse standing by, and they were apparently dragging out of -the carriage a lady who seemed very unwilling to come forth, but from -the other side was hurrying up, as hard as he could run, another -personage of very different appearance from the three other men. By -this time he was within ten yards of them, and our horseman, from his -elevation on his beast's back, could see the head and shoulders of him -who was approaching, and judged at once that he was a gentleman.</p> - -<p class="normal">I have said that under the trees it was quite dark, and yet that he -could see all this, but neither of these is a mistake, whatever the -reader may think, for just at that part of the highway where the -carriage stood, it was crossed by another road which let in all that -remained of the western light, and there the whole scene was before -his eyes, as a picture, even while he himself was in comparative -darkness. Impulse is an excellent thing, and a great deal more -frequently leads us right than reason, which in cases of emergency, is -a very unserviceable commodity. It is only necessary to have a clever -impulse, and things go wonderfully well. The horseman stuck his spurs -into his horse's sides: previously he had been going at a trot, since -the first sounds struck his ear, now it became a canter, and two or -three springs brought him up to the carriage. He was making straight -for the side, but the man who was at the horses' heads seemed to -regard his coming as unpleasant, and shouting to him in a thundering -voice to keep back, he presented a pistol straight at him with a -sharp, disagreeable, clicking sound, which, under various -circumstances, is peculiarly ungrateful to the human ear, especially -when the muzzle of the instrument is towards us, for there is no -knowing what may come out of the mouth at the next minute. But the -horseman was quick, active, and not accustomed to be daunted by a -little thing like a pistol, and therefore, holding his heavy -riding-whip by the wrong end, though in this instance it proved the -right one, he struck the personage opposite to him a thundering blow -over the arm. That limb instantly dropped powerless by his side, and -the pistol went off under the horse's feet, causing the animal to rear -a little, but hurting no one. In an instant the horse was turned, and -amongst the party by the carriage; but that party was by this time -increased in number, though not fortified by unanimity, for the person -who had been seen running up, was by this time engaged in fierce -struggle with one of the original possessors of the ground, while the -other kept a tight grasp upon the lady who had just been dragged out -of the carriage. With the two combatants our horseman thought it best -not to meddle in the first instance, though he saw that the object of -one of them was to get a pistol at the head of the other, who seemed -neither unwilling nor unable to prevent him from accomplishing that -object, but they were grappling so closely, that it was difficult to -strike one without hitting the other, especially in the twilight; and -therefore, before he interfered in their concerns, he bestowed another -blow, with the full sweep of his arm, upon the head of the man who was -holding the lady, and who seemed to take so deep an interest in what -was going on between the other two, as not to perceive that any one -was coming up behind him. He instantly staggered back, and would have -fallen, had not the wheel of the carriage stopped him, but then -turning fiercely round, he stretched out his arm, and a flash and -report followed, while a ball whistled past the horseman's cheek, went -through his hair, and grazed his hat.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Missed, on my life," cried the horseman; "take that for your pains, -you clumsy hound." And he again struck him, though, on this occasion -the person's head was defended by his arm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"H--l and d--n," cried the other, seizing his horse's bridle and -trying to force him back upon his haunches, but another blow, that -made him stagger again, showed him that the combat was not likely to -end in his favour, and darting past, he exclaimed, "Run, Wolf, run. -Harry is off!" And before our friend on the bay horse could strike -another blow at him, he had sprung upon the back of the beast that -stood near, and without waiting to put his feet into the stirrups, -galloped off as hard as he could go. In regard to the other two who -were wrestling, as we have said, in deadly strife, the game they were -playing had just reached a critical point, for the gentleman who had -come up, had contrived to get hold of the barrel of the pistol, and at -the very instant the other galloped away, the respectable person he -called Wolf received a straightforward blow in the face, which made -him stagger back, leaving his weapon in the hand of his opponent. -Finding that his only advantage was gone, he instantly darted round -the back of the carriage to make his escape up the other road.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Jump down and stop him, post-boy," cried the horseman, pursuing him -at the same time without a moment's pause, but the post-boy's legs, -though cased in leather, seemed to be made of wood, if one might judge -by the stiff slowness with which they moved, and before he had got his -feet to the ground, and his whip deliberately laid over the horse's -back, the fugitive finding that the horseman had cut him off from the -road, caught the stem of a young ash, swung himself up to the top of -the bank, and disappeared amongst the trees.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hark, there is a carriage coming," said the horseman, addressing the -stranger, who had followed him as fast as two legs could follow four. -They both paused for an instant and listened, but to their surprise -the sound of rolling wheels, which they both distinctly heard, -diminished instead of increasing, and it became evident that some -vehicle was driving away from a spot at no great distance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That's droll," said the horseman, dismounting; "but we had better see -after the ladies, for I dare say they are frightened."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No doubt they are," replied the other, in a mild and musical voice, -leading the way round the carriage again. "Do you know who they are?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not I," answered the horseman, "don't you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I am a stranger here," answered the other, approaching the side -of the carriage, to which the lady who had been dragged out had now -returned.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was seated with her hands over her eyes, as if either crying with -agitation or in deep thought; but the moment the gentleman who had -come up on foot addressed her, expressing a hope that she had not been -much alarmed, she replied, "Oh, yes, I could not help it, but my -mother has fainted. We must go back, I fear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not far, I think, to the village, Madam," said our friend the -horseman, "and we will easily bring the lady to herself again; but it -is a pity she fainted too. These things will happen, and if they have -not got your money there is no great harm done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am better, Mary," said a voice from the other side of the carriage, -faint and low, yet sweet and harmonious. "Are they gone--are you quite -sure they are gone?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, dear, yes, Madam," replied the horseman, while the lady next him -laid her hand tenderly upon her mother's. "One of the worthies -scampered off on horseback after he had fired at me, and the other was -too quick for us all, thanks to your stiff-jointed driver. What became -of the other fellow I don't know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are not hurt, Sir, I hope," said the younger of the two ladies, -gazing timidly at him through the half light.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not in the least," he replied. "The man missed me, though it wasn't a -bad shot after all, for I felt it go through my hair--but an inch one -side or the other makes a wonderful difference--and now, ladies, what -will you do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">A. murmured consultation took place between the two tenants of the -carriage, while a whispered conference was held by the gentlemen who -came to their assistance. It is wonderful how often in this world -several parties of the good folks of which it is composed, are all -thinking, ay, and even talking, of the same thing, without any one -group knowing what the other is about.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'm doubtful of that post-boy," said the gentleman on foot to the -gentleman who had been on horseback.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, and so am I," replied the other. "He's in league with them, -depend upon it. All post-boys are so. Their conscience is like the inn -leather breeches, wide enough to fit any thing. I wonder how far these -two ladies are going?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot tell," answered the other, "but it will be hardly safe for -them to go alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can I speak to you, Sir, for a moment," said the voice of the younger -lady from the carriage, and the horseman advancing a step, leaned -against the doorway, and put his head partly in, bending down his ear, -as if he were perfectly certain that he was going to hear a secret.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My mother thinks, and so do I," continued the younger lady, "that the -man who drives us must have been bribed by those people who attacked -us, for he drove very slowly as soon as ever he came near this spot. -He stopped, too, the moment they called to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps not bribed, my dear Madam," replied the gentleman, "all these -post-boys, as they are called, favour your honest highwaymen, either -in hopes of a part of the booty, or merely out of fellow feeling. They -are every one of them amateurs, and some of them connoisseurs of the -arts of the road. You must have some protection, that's certain, and I -think it would be better for you to turn back and get some people from -the village to accompany the carriage."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'm afraid that can hardly be," said the elder lady. "We are already -very late, and this has delayed us. My brother may be dead ere we -arrive, for I'm going on a sad errand, Sir, he having been suddenly -seized with gout in the stomach, and sent to call me to him in his -last moments; however, it is not very far, and I trust that nothing -more will happen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, Madam, you must not go without protection," replied the -gentleman in a good-humoured tone. "I will ride with you and see you -safe--how far is it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"About five miles, I am afraid," answered the lady.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, that's nothing, that's nothing," cried their companion. "It will -but make me an hour later at supper." And turning to the other -gentleman, he continued, "I wish, Sir, if you pass the inn called the -White Hart--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I lodge there myself," returned the stranger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then pray tell the people there to have me a chicken ready in an -hour. It will be roasting while I am riding, so that will be one way -of killing time, and not losing patience."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, with a gay laugh, he sprang upon his horse's back, and -addressing the post-boy, exclaimed, while the other gentleman shut the -door, and bade the ladies adieu, "Now, boy, into the saddle, and -remember, if these ladies are interrupted again, the first head that -is broken shall be yours."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man made no reply, but got up with more alacrity than he had got -down, and was soon trotting along the road at a rapid rate.</p> - -<p class="normal">The horseman kept close to the carriage all the way, and after a ride -of about five-and-thirty minutes, through pleasant lanes and fields, -they came to what seemed the gates of a park, but the porter's lodge -was dim and unlighted, and the post-boy gave the horseman a -significant hint that he had better get down and open the gates, as -there was nobody there to do it for him. The gentleman, however, -managed the feat dexterously without dismounting, and the carriage -rolled through and entered a long avenue of magnificent chesnuts. -Between the boughs of the trees, every here and there, were to be seen -glimpses of soft green slopes, studded with wild hawthorns, and masses -of dark wood beyond, and at the end of about three quarters of a mile -more, appeared a fine old stone house, with a somewhat flat but -imposing-looking face, like that of an old country gentleman, with a -great idea of his own importance.</p> - -<p class="normal">As the horseman looked up to the house, however, which was raised upon -a little terrace, and approached by a gentle rise, he could not help -thinking, "That does not look very much like the dwelling of a man -dying of gout in the stomach; it looks more like that of one getting -up a good fit;" for three windows on the ground floor, having very -much of a dining-room aspect about them, were thrown up to admit the -air, and in addition to a blaze of light, there came forth the sounds -of merry laughter, and several persons talking.</p> - -<p class="normal">The post-boy drove up to the great door, however, and the horseman, -springing to the ground, rang the bell, after which, returning to the -side of the carriage, he leaned against it, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust your relation is better, Madam, for the house does not seem -to be one of mourning."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady did not reply directly to his words, but she said, "I hope if -you remain in this part of the country, Sir, you will give me an -opportunity of thanking you, either here, or at my own house, for the -great service you have rendered me. The people of the inn will direct -you, for it is only ten miles on the other side of Tarningham."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall certainly have the honour of waiting on you to inquire how -you do," replied the horseman, and then adding, "these people do not -seem inclined to come," he returned to the bell, and rang it -vigorously.</p> - -<p class="normal">The next moment the door was opened, and a capacious butler appeared, -and the stranger, without more ado, assisted the ladies to alight, -remarking as he did so, that the younger of the two was a very pretty -girl, some nineteen or twenty years of age.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How is my brother now?" demanded the elder lady, who wore a widow's -dress.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite well, Ma'am, thank you," answered the butler, in the most -commonplace tone possible, and before she had time to make any more -inquiries, the stranger who had come to her rescue, wished her and her -daughter good night, and mounting his horse, rode down the avenue -again.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER II.</h4> -<h5>The Supper at the White Hart.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The White Hart of Tarningham was a neat little country inn, such as -was commonly found in most of the small towns of England at the period -of my tale. They are rapidly being brushed off the face of the earth -by the great broom of the steam-engine, and very soon the "pleasures -of an inn" will be no longer known but by the records of history, -while men run through the world at the rate of a hundred miles an -hour, finding nothing on their way but stations and "hotels." I hate -the very name hotel. It is unEnglish, uncomfortable, unsatisfactory, a -combination, I suppose, of host and hell, the one the recipient of -perturbed spirits, and the other their tormentor. But the word inn, -how comfortable it is in all its significations. We have only retained -the double <i>n</i> in it that we may "wear our rue with a difference," and -whether we think of being <i>in</i> place, or <i>in</i> power, or <i>in</i> the -hearts of those we love, or <i>in</i> the house during a storm, how -pleasant is the feeling it produces. It has a home-like and British -sound, and I do with all my heart wish that my fellow-countrymen would -neither change their words nor their manners for worse things of -foreign parentage. An inn, in the days I speak of, was a place famous -for white linen, broiled ham, and fresh eggs. I cannot say that the -beefsteaks were always tender, or the veal cutlets always done to a -turn, or the beds always the softest in the world, but then think of -the white dimity curtains, and the casements that rattled just enough -to let you know that it was blowing hard without, and the rosy -apple-faced chambermaid, and the host himself, round as his own butts, -ay, and as full of beer. An innkeeper of those days would have been -ashamed to show himself under nineteen stone. He was a part of his own -sign, the recommendation of his own ale. His very paunch seemed to say -"Look what it has done for me." It entered into his fat, it flowed -through his veins, it puffed out his cheeks, it ran out at his eyes, -and malt and hops was heard in every accent of his tongue. You had no -lean, wizen-faced, black-silk-stockinged innkeepers in those days, and -the very aspiring waiters imitated their landlords, and hourly grew -fat under the eye, that they might be in a fit condition to marry the -widow and take the business when the poor dear gentleman was swallowed -up in beer.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such an inn was the White Hart at Tarningham, and such a host was the -landlord, but he was a wise man, and loved not to look upon his -successors, for which cause, as well as on account of the trade not -being very brisk in that quarter, he maintained no regular waiter; he -had a tapster it is true, but the cloth in the neat little parlour on -the left hand was laid by a white-capped, black-eyed, blooming -maid-servant, and the landlord himself prepared to carry in the first -dish, and then leave his expected guest to the tendance of the same -fair damsel.</p> - -<p class="normal">The room was already occupied by one gentleman, the same who in taking -his evening walk had joined with our friend the horseman in the rescue -of the two ladies, and to say truth, it was owing to his courtesy that -the cloth was laid there at all, for he had prior possession, and on -communicating to the landlord the fact that a guest would soon arrive -who proposed to sup upon roast chicken, the worthy host had exclaimed -in a voice of consternation, "Good gracious me, what shall I do? I -must turn those fellows out of the tap-room and serve it there, for -there is old Mrs. Grover, the lawyer's widow, in the other parlour, -and ne'er a sitting-room else in the house!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You can make use of this, landlord," replied the stranger; "this -gentleman seems a very good-humoured person, and I do not think -will be inclined to find fault, although he may not have a whole -sitting-room to himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'd bet a quart," cried the landlord, as if a sudden thought struck -him, "I'd bet a quart that it's the gentleman whose portmanteau and a -whole bundle of fishing-rods came down this morning. I'll run and see -what's the name."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whatever he felt, the gentleman already in possession expressed no -curiosity, but in two minutes the host rolled back again--for to run, -as he threatened, was impossible, and informed his guest that the -things were addressed to "Edward Hayward, Esq., to be left at the -White Hart, Tarningham."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very well," said the guest, and without more ado, he took up a book -which had been lying on the mantelpiece since the morning, and putting -his feet upon another chair, began to read. The landlord bustled about -the room, and put the things in order. One of his fat sides knocked -his guest's chair, and he begged pardon, but the gentleman read on. He -took up the hat, which had been knocked off in the struggle with the -chaise, wiped off the red sand which it had gathered, and exclaimed, -"Lord bless me, Sir, your hat's all beaten about;" but his companion -merely gave a nod, and read on.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, when the table was laid, and mustard, pepper, salt, -vinegar, and bread had been brought in severally, when the maid had -re-arranged what the landlord had arranged before, smoothed what he -had smoothed, and brushed what he had brushed, a horse's feet trotting -past the window, were heard, and the minute after a voice exclaimed at -the door of the inn, "Here, ostler, take my horse, loose the girths, -but don't take off the saddle yet, sponge his mouth, and walk him up -and down for five minutes. Has his clothing come?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, dear, yes, Sir, come this morning," answered the landlord. "This -way, Sir, if you please. Sorry you did not let me know before, for -positively there is not a whole sitting-room in the house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, I will do with half of one," answered the stranger. "Why, -my friend, if you grow any more you must have the doors widened. You -are the man for defending a pass; for, upon my life, in default of -harder materials, you would block up Thermopylæ. Ale, ale, ale, it's -all ale, landlord, and if you don't mind, it will set you ailing. Have -my fishing-rods come down?--all safe I hope;" and by the time he had -run through these questions and observations, he was in the doorway of -the little parlour on the left-hand. He stared for a minute at the -previous tenant of the room, who rose to receive him with a smile, and -whose face he did not seem to have observed very accurately in the -semi-darkness of the road. But the height and general appearance of -the stranger soon showed him that they had met before, and with an -easy, good-humoured, dashing air, he went up and shook him by the -hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A strange means of making acquaintance, my dear Sir," he said, "but -I'm very happy to see you again, and safe and well, too, for I thought -at one time you were likely to get knocked on the head, and I scarcely -dared to interfere, lest I should do it for you myself in trying to -hit the other fellow. I hope you did not get any wounds or bruises in -the affray?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no," replied the stranger; "I was nearly strangled that is -certain, and shall not easily forget the grasp of that man's fingers -on my throat; but in regard to this way of making an acquaintance, no -two men, I should think, could desire a better than to be both -engaged, even accidentally, in rescuing two ladies from wrong."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite chivalrous!" exclaimed the horseman, laughing; "but two Don -Quixotes would never do in the world, so I'll acknowledge, at once, -that I've not the least spark of chivalry in my nature. If I see a -strong thing hurting a weak thing, I knock the strong thing down of -course. I can't bear to see a big dog worry a little one, and don't -much like to see a terrier catch a rat. But it's all impulse, my dear -Sir, all impulse. Thank Heaven I am totally destitute of any sort of -enthusiasm. I like every thing in the world well enough, but do not -wish to like any thing too much, except, indeed, a particularly good -bottle of claret--there, there, I am afraid I am weak. As to helping -two ladies, it is always a very pleasant thing, especially if one of -them be a particularly pretty girl, as is the case in this instance, I -can tell you--but we really should do something to have these fellows -caught, for they might have the decency to wait till it is quite dark, -and not begin their lawless avocations before the sun has been down an -hour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I went immediately to a magistrate," answered the stranger; "but as -in very many country places, I did not find the ornament of the bench -very highly enlightened. Because I was not the party actually -attacked, he demurred to taking any steps whatever, and though I shook -his resolution on that point, and he seemed inclined to accede to my -demand, yet as soon as he found that I could not even give him the -names of the two ladies, he went all the way back again, and would not -even take my deposition. Perhaps after supper we had better go to him -again together, for I dare say you can supply my deficiency by this -time, and tell him the name of your pretty lady and her mother."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No; 'pon my life I can't," rejoined his companion, "I quite forgot to -ask--a very beautiful girl, though, and I wonder I didn't inquire, for -I always like to ticket pretty faces. What is the name of your Midas, -we'll soon bring him to reason, I doubt not. A country magistrate not -take a deposition against a highwayman! By Heaven, he will make the -people think he goes shares in the booty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A highwayman!" exclaimed the landlord, who had been going in and out, -and listening to all that was said, whether he had roast chicken, or -boiled potatoes, or a jug of fresh drawn beer in his hand. "Why, Lord, -Mr. Beauchamp, you never told me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, my good friend," answered the other, "I did not, because to -spread such a tale through an inn, is the very best way I know of -insuring the highwayman's escape."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I dare say, my good round friend," exclaimed the horseman, whom -we shall hereafter call Hayward, or as almost all who knew him, had -it, Ned Hayward, "I dare say you can help us to the names of these two -ladies. Who was it one of your post-boys drove to-night, out there to -the westward, to a house in a park?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, to Sir John Slingsby's?" exclaimed the host; but before he -could proceed to answer the more immediate question, Ned Hayward gave -himself a knock on the forehead, exclaiming,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir John Slingsby's! why that's the very house I'm going to, and I -never thought to ask the name--what a fool I am! Well might they call -me, when I was in the 40th, thoughtless Ned Hayward. But come, 'mine -host of the garter'--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of the White Hart, your honour," replied the landlord, with as low a -bow as his stomach would permit.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, of the White Hart be it then," said Ned Hayward, "let us hear who -are these beautiful ladies whom your post-boy drove so slowly, and -stopped with so soon, at the bidding of three gentlemen of the road, -with pistols in their hands?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord a mercy!" cried the host, "and was it Mrs. Clifford and her -daughter that they stopped? Well, I shouldn't wonder--but mum's the -word--it's no affair of mine, and the least said is soonest mended."</p> - -<p class="normal">The host's countenance had assumed a mysterious look. His whole aspect -had an air of mystery. He laid his finger upon the side of his nose, -as men do for a practical exemplification of the process which is -taking place in their mind when they are putting "that and that" -together. He half closed one eye also, as if to give an indication to -the beholders that whatever might be the mental light in his own -brain, it should not escape for the illumination of those without. -There is a perversity in human nature which makes all men--saving the -exceptions that prove the general rule--anxious to discover any thing -that is hidden, and consequently both Mr. Hayward and Mr. Beauchamp -attacked the worthy landlord, <i>totis viribus</i>, and attempted to wrench -from him his secret. He held it fast, however, with both hands, -exclaiming,</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, gentlemen, I'll not say a word--it's no business of -mine--I've nothing to do with it--it's all guess work, and a man who -beers and horses all the neighbourhood, must keep a good tongue in his -head. But one thing I will say, just to give you two gentlemen a hint, -that perhaps you had better not meddle in this matter, or you may make -a mess of it. Sally, is not that chicken ready?" And he called from -the door of the room to the bar.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I certainly shall meddle with it, my good friend," said Ned Hayward, -in a determined tone, "and that very soon. I'm not the least afraid of -making a mess, as you call it, certain that none of it will fall upon -myself. So, as soon as we have got supper, which seems a devilish long -time coming, we will set off, Mr. Beauchamp, if you please, for this -good magistrate's and try--"</p> - -<p class="normal">He was interrupted in the midst of his speech, though it had by this -time nearly come to a conclusion, by a voice in the passage, -exclaiming, "Groomber, Mr. Groomber," and the host instantly -vociferated, "Coming, Sir, coming," and rushed out of the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">The voice was heard to demand, as soon as the landlord appeared -blocking up the way, "Have you a person by the name of Beauchamp -here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, your worship," replied the host, and after a few more words, in -a lower tone, the door of the room was thrown open, and Mr. Wittingham -was announced, just as Mr. Beauchamp was observing to his new-found -friend, Ned Hayward, that the voice was very like that of the worthy -magistrate to whom he had applied.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham was a tall and very respectable-looking gentleman, -somewhat past the middle age, and verging towards that decline of life -which is marked by protuberance of the stomach, and thinness of the -legs. But, nevertheless, Mr. Wittingham carried it off very well, for -his height diminished the appearance of that which is usually called a -corporation, and his legs were skilfully concealed in his top-boots. -He was exceedingly neat in his apparel, tolerably rosy in the gills, -and having a certain dogmatical peremptory expression, especially -about the thick eyebrows and hooknose, which he found wonderfully -efficacious in the decision of cases at petty sessions.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment he entered the room, he fixed his eyes somewhat sternly -upon Mr. Beauchamp (whom we have forgotten to describe as a very -gentlemanlike--even distinguished-looking person of about thirty -years of age), and addressing him in a rough, and rather uncivil tone, -said, "Your name, I think you told me, is Beauchamp, Sir, and you came -to lay an information before me against certain persons for stopping a -chaise upon the king's highway."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am, as you say, Sir, called Beauchamp," replied the other -gentleman, "and I waited upon you, as the nearest magistrate, to give -information of a crime which had been committed in your neighbourhood -which you refused to receive. Do me the honour of taking a seat."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And pray, Sir, if I may be so bold as to ask, who and what are you?" -inquired the magistrate, suffering himself to drop heavily into a -chair.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should conceive that had very little to do with the matter," -interposed Ned Hayward, before Mr. Beauchamp could answer. "The simple -question is, whether an attempt at highway robbery, or perhaps a worse -offence, has or has not been made this night, upon Mrs. and Miss -Clifford, as they were going over to my friend Sir John Slingsby's; -and allow me to say that any magistrate who refuses to take a -deposition on such a subject, and to employ the best means at his -command to apprehend the offenders, grossly neglects his duty."</p> - -<p class="normal">The host brought in the roast fowl, and stared at the dashing tone of -Ned Hayward's speech towards one of the magnates of the neighbourhood. -Some words in the commencement of that speech had caused Mr. -Wittingham's countenance to fall, but the attack upon himself in the -conclusion, roused him to indignant resistance, so that his reply was -an angry demand of "Who the devil are you, Sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am the devil of nobody, Mr. Wittington," answered Ned Hayward. "I -am my own devil, if any body's, and my name is Edward Hayward, -commonly called Captain Hayward, late of the 40th regiment, and now -unattached. But as my supper is ready, I will beg leave to eat my -chicken hot. Beauchamp, won't you join? Mr. Wittington, shall I give -you a wing? Odd name, Wittington. Descendant of the renowned Lord -Mayor of London, I presume?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Sir, no," answered the magistrate, while Beauchamp could scarcely -refrain from laughing. "What I want to know is, what you have to do -with this affair?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Every thing in the world," answered Ned Hayward, carving the chicken, -"as I and my friend Beauchamp here had equal shares in saving the -ladies from the clutches of these vagabonds. He came back here to give -information, while I rode on with the ladies to protect them. Bring me -a bottle of your best sherry, landlord. Now, I'll tell you what, Mr. -Wittington--haven't you got any ham that you could broil? I hate -chicken without ham, it's as insipid as a country magistrate.--I'll -tell you what, Mr. Wittington, this matter shall be investigated to -the bottom, whether you like it or not, and I have taken care to leave -such marks upon two of the vagabonds, that they'll be easily known for -the next month to come. One of them is devilish like you, by the way, -but younger. I hit him just over the eye, and down about the nose, so -that I'll answer for it I have lettered him in black and blue as well -as any sheep in your fields, and we'll catch him before we've done, -though we must insist upon having the assistance of the justices."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think, Sir, you intend to insult me," said the magistrate, rising -with a very angry air, and a blank and embarrassed countenance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not a whit, my dear Sir," answered Ned Hayward. "Pray sit down and -take a glass of wine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wont, Sir," exclaimed Mr. Wittingham, "and I shall leave the room. -If you have any thing to say to me, it must come before me in a formal -manner, and at a proper hour. To-morrow I shall be at the justice-room -till eleven, and I hope you will be then prepared to treat the bench -with respect."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The most profound, Sir," said Ned Hayward, rising and bowing till his -face almost touched the table before him, and then as Mr. Wittingham -walked away with an indignant toss of the head, and closed the door -behind him, our gay friend turned to his companion, saying, "There's -something under this, Beauchamp. We must find out what it is."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER III.</h4> -<h5>The Father and the Son.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">I Will have nothing to do with antecedents. The reader must find them -out if he can, as the book must explain what precedes the book.</p> - -<p class="normal">The past is a tomb. There let events, as well as men, sleep in peace. -Fate befal him who disturbs them; and indeed were there not even a -sort of profanation in raking up things done as well as in troubling -the ashes of the dead, what does man obtain by breaking into the grave -of the past? Nothing but dry bones, denuded of all that made the -living act interesting. History is but a great museum of osteology, -where the skeletons of great deeds are preserved without the -muscles--here a tall fact and there a short one; some sadly -dismembered, and all crumbling with age, and covered with dust and -cobwebs. Take up a skull, chapfallen as Yorick's. See how it grins at -you with its lank jaws and gumless teeth. See how the vacant sockets -of the eyes glare meaningless, and the brow, where high intelligence -sat throned, commanding veneration, looks little wiser than a dried -pumpkin. And thus--even thus, as insignificant of the living deeds -that have been, are the dry bones of history, needing the inductive -imagination of a Cuvier to clothe them again with the forms that once -they wore.</p> - -<p class="normal">No, no, I will have nothing to do with antecedents. They were past -before the Tale began, and let them rest.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, it is always well worth while, in order to avoid any -long journeys back, to keep every part of the story going at once, and -manfully to resist both our own inclination and the reader's, to -follow any particular character, or class of characters, or series of -events. Rather let us, going from scene to scene, and person to -person, as often as it may be necessary, bring them up from the rear. -It is likewise well worth while to pursue the career of such new -character that may be introduced, till those who are newly made -acquainted with him, have discovered a sufficient portion of his -peculiarities.</p> - -<p class="normal">I shall therefore beg leave to follow Mr. Wittingham on his way -homeward; but first I will ask the reader to remark him as he pauses -for a moment at the inn-door, with worthy Mr. Groomber a step behind. -See how the excellent magistrate rubs the little vacant spot between -the ear and the wig with the fore-finger of the right-hand, as if he -were a man amazingly puzzled, and then turns his head over his -shoulder to inquire of the landlord if he knows who the two guests -are, without obtaining any further information than that one of them -had been for some weeks in the house--which Mr. Wittingham well knew -before, he having the organ of Observation strongly developed--and -that the other had just arrived; a fact which was also within the -worthy magistrate's previous cognizance.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham rubs the organ above the ear again, gets the finger up -to Ideality, and rubs that, then round to Cautiousness, and having -slightly excited it with the extreme point of the index of the -right-hand, pauses there, as if afraid of stimulating it too strongly, -and unmanning his greater purposes. But it is a ticklish organ, soon -called into action, in some men, and see how easily Mr. Wittingham has -brought its functions into operation. He buttons his coat up to the -chin as if it were winter, and yet it is as mild an evening as one -could wish to take a walk in by the side of a clear stream, with the -fair moon for a companion, or something fairer still. It is evident -that Cautiousness is at work at a terrible rate, otherwise he would -never think of buttoning up his coat on such a night as that; and now -without another word to the landlord, he crosses the street, and bends -his steps homeward with a slow, thoughtful, vacillating step, -murmuring to himself two or three words which our friend Ned Hayward -had pronounced, as if they contained some spell which forced his -tongue to their repetition.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very like me," he said, "very like me? Hang the fellow! Very like me! -Why, what the devil--he can't mean to accuse me of robbing the -carriage. Very like me! Then, as the mischief must have it, that it -should be Mrs. Clifford too! I shall have roystering Sir John upon my -back--'pon my life, I do not know what to do. Perhaps it would be -better to be civil to these two young fellows, and ask them to dinner; -though I do not half like that Beauchamp--I always thought there was -something suspicious about him with his grave look, and his long -solitary walks, nobody knowing him, and he knowing nobody. Yet this -Captain Hayward seems a great friend of his, and he is a friend of Sir -John's--so he must be somebody--I wonder who the devil he is? -Beauchamp?--Beauchamp? I shouldn't wonder if he were some man -rusticated from Oxford. I'll write and ask Henry. He can most likely -tell."</p> - -<p class="normal">The distance which Mr. Wittingham had to go was by no means great, for -the little town contained only three streets--one long one, and two -others leading out of it. In one of the latter, or rather at the end -of one of the latter, for it verged upon the open country beyond the -town, was a large house, his own particular dwelling, built upon the -rise of the hill, with large gardens and pleasure-grounds surrounding -it, a new, well-constructed, neatly pointed, brick wall, two green -gates, and sundry conservatories. It had altogether an air of -freshness and comfort about it which was certainly pleasant to look -upon; but it had nothing venerable. It spoke of fortunes lately made, -and riches fully enjoyed, because they had not always been possessed. -It was too neat to be picturesque, too smart to be in good taste. I -was a bit of Clapham or Tooting transported a hundred or two miles -into the country--very suburban indeed!</p> - -<p class="normal">And yet it is possible that Mr. Wittingham had never seen Clapham in -his life, or Tooting either; for he had been born in the town where he -now lived, had accumulated wealth, as a merchant on a small scale, in -a sea-port town about fifty miles distant; had improved considerably, -by perseverance, a very limited stock of abilities; and, having done -all this in a short time, had returned at the age of fifty, to enact -the country gentleman in his native place. With the ordinary ambition -of low minds, however, he wished much that his origin, and the means -of his rise should be forgotten by those who knew them, concealed from -those who did not; and therefore he dressed like a country gentleman, -spoke like a country gentleman, hunted with the fox-hounds, and added -"J. P." to his "Esquire."</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, do what he would, there was something of his former -calling that still remained about him. It is a dirty world this we -live in, and every thing has its stain. A door is never painted five -minutes, but some indelible finger-mark is printed on it; a table is -never polished half an hour, but some drop of water falls and spots -it. Give either precisely the same colour again, if you can! Each -trade, each profession, from the shopkeeper to the prime minister, -marks its man more or less for life, and I am not quite sure that the -stamp of one is much fouler than that of another. There is great -vulgarity in all pride, and most of all in official pride, and the -difference between that vulgarity, and the vulgarity of inferior -education is not in favour of the former; for it affects the mind, -while the other principally affects the manner.</p> - -<p class="normal">Heaven and earth, what a ramble I have taken! but I will go back again -gently by a path across the fields. Something of the merchant, the -small merchant, still hung about Mr. Wittingham. It was not alone that -he kept all his books by double entry, and even in his magisterial -capacity, when dealing with rogues and vagabonds, had a sort of debtor -and creditor account with them, very curious in its items; neither was -it altogether that he had a vast idea of the importance of wealth, and -looked upon a good banker's book, with heavy balance in favour, as the -chief of the cardinal virtues; but there were various peculiarities of -manner and small traits of character, which displayed the habit of -mind to inquiring eyes very remarkably. His figures of speech, -whenever he forgot himself for a moment were all of the -counting-house: when on the bench he did not know what to do with his -legs for want of a high stool; but the trait with which we have most -to do was a certain propensity to inquire into the solidity and -monetary respectability of all men, whether they came into -relationship with himself or not. He looked upon them all as "Firms," -with whom at some time he might have to transact business; and I much -doubt whether he did not mentally put "and Co.," to the name of every -one of his acquaintances. Now Beauchamp and Co. puzzled him; he -doubted that the house was firm; he could make nothing out of their -affairs; he had not, since Mr. Beauchamp first appeared in the place, -been able even to get a glimpse of their transactions; and though it -was but a short distance, as I have said, from the inn to his own -dwelling, before he had reached the latter, he had asked himself at -least twenty times, "Who and what Mr. Beauchamp could be?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should like to look at his ledger," said Mr. Wittingham to himself -at length, as he opened his gate and went in; but there was a book -open for Mr. Wittingham in his own house, which was not likely to show -a very favourable account.</p> - -<p class="normal">Although the door of Mr. Wittingham's house, which was a glass door, -stood confidingly unlocked as long as the sun was above the horizon, -yet Mr. Wittingham had always a pass-key in his pocket, and when the -first marble step leading from the gravel walk up to the entrance was -found, the worthy magistrate's hand was always applied to an aperture -in his upper garment just upon the haunch, from which the key was sure -to issue forth, whether the door was open or not.</p> - -<p class="normal">The door, however, was now shut, and the pass-key proved serviceable; -but no sooner did Mr. Wittingham stand in the passage of his own -mansion than he stopped short in breathless and powerless -astonishment; for there before him stood two figures in close -confabulation, which he certainly did not expect to see in that place, -at that time, in such near proximity.</p> - -<p class="normal">The one was that of a woman, perhaps fifty-five years of age, but who -looked still older from the fact of being dressed in the mode of -thirty years before. Her garments might be those of an upper servant, -and indeed they were so; for the personage was neither more nor less -than the housekeeper; but to all appearance she was a resuscitated -housekeeper of a former age; for the gown padded in a long roll just -under the blade-bones, the straight cut bodice, the tall but -flat-crowned and wide-spreading cap, were not of the day in which she -lived, and her face too was as dry as the outer shell of a cocoa-nut. -The other figure had the back turned to the door, and was evidently -speaking earnestly to Mrs. Billiter; but it was that of a man, tall, -and though stiffly made, yet sinewy and strong.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham's breath came thick and short, but the noise of his -suddenly opening the door, and his step in the hall, made the -housekeeper utter a low cry of surprise, and her male companion turn -quickly round. Then Mr. Wittingham's worst apprehensions were -realised, for the face he saw before him was that of his own son, -though somewhat disfigured by an eye swollen and discoloured, and a -deep long cut just over it on the brow.</p> - -<p class="normal">The young man seemed surprised and confounded by the unexpected -apparition of his father, but it was too late to shirk the encounter, -though he well knew it would not be a pleasant one. He was accustomed, -too, to scenes of altercation with his parent, for Mr. Wittingham had -not proceeded wisely with his son, who was a mere boy when he himself -retired from business. He had not only alternately indulged him and -thwarted him; encouraged him to spend money largely, and to dazzle the -eyes of the neighbours by expense, at the same time limiting his means -and exacting a rigid account of his payments; but as the young man had -grown up he had continued sometimes to treat him as a boy, sometimes -as a man; and while he more than connived at his emulating the great -in those pleasures which approach vices, he denied him the sums by -which such a course could alone be carried out.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus a disposition, naturally vehement and passionate, had been -rendered irritable and reckless, and a character self-willed and -perverse had become obstinate and disobedient. Dispute after dispute -arose between father and son after the spoilt boy became the daring -and violent youth, till at length Mr. Wittingham, for the threefold -purpose of putting him under some sort of discipline, of removing him -from bad associates, and giving him the tone of a gentleman, had sent -him to Oxford. One year had passed over well enough, but at the -commencement of the second year, Mr. Wittingham found that his -notions of proper economy were very different from his son's, and that -Oxford was not likely to reconcile the difference. He heard of him -horse-racing, driving stagecoaches, betting on pugilists, gambling, -drinking, getting deeper and deeper in debt; and his letters of -remonstrance were either not answered at all, or answered with -contempt.</p> - -<p class="normal">A time had come, however, when the absolute necessity of recruiting -his finances from his father's purse had reduced the youth to promises -of amendment and a feigned repentance; and just at the time our tale -opens, the worthy magistrate was rocking himself in the cradle of -delusive expectations, and laying out many a plan for the future life -of his reformed son, when suddenly as we have seen, he found him -standing talking to the housekeeper in his own hall with the marks of -a recent scuffle very visible on his face.</p> - -<p class="normal">The consternation of Mr. Wittingham was terrible; for though by no -means a man of ready combinations in any other matter than pounds, -shillings and pence, his fancy was not so slow a beast as to fail in -joining together the description which Ned Hayward had given of the -marks he had set upon one of the worthy gentlemen who had been found -attacking Mrs. Clifford's carriage, and the cuts and bruises upon the -fair face of his gentle offspring. He had also various private reasons -of his own for supposing that such an enterprise as that which had -been interrupted in Tarningham-lane, as the place was called, might -very well come within the sphere of his son's energies, and for a -moment he gave himself up to a sort of apathetic despair, seeing all -his fond hopes of rustic rule and provincial importance dashed to the -ground by the conduct of his own child.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was reserved for that child to rouse him from his stupor, however; -for, though undoubtedly the apparition of his father was any thing but -pleasant to Henry Wittingham, at that particular moment, when he was -arranging with the housekeeper (who had aided to spoil him with all -her energies) that he was to have secret board and lodging in the -house for a couple of days, without his parent's knowledge, yet his -was a bold spirit, not easily cowed, and much accustomed to outface -circumstances however disagreeable they might be. Marching straight up -to his father then, without a blush, as soon as he had recovered from -the first surprise, he said, "So, you see I have come back, Sir, for a -day or two to worship my household gods, as we say at Oxford, and to -get a little more money; for you did not send me enough. However, it -may be as well, for various reasons, not to let people know that I am -here. Our old dons do not like us to be absent without leave, and may -think that I ought to have notified to them my intention of giving you -such an agreeable surprise."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such overpowering impudence was too much for Mr. Wittingham's -patience, the stock of which was somewhat restricted; and he first -swore a loud and very unmagisterial oath; then, however, recollecting -himself, without abating one particle of his wrath, he said in a stern -tone, and with a frowning brow, "Be so good as to walk into that room -for five minutes, Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord, Sir, don't be angry," exclaimed the housekeeper, who did not at -all like the look of her master's face, "it is only a frolic, Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold your tongue, Billiter! you are a fool," thundered Mr. -Wittingham. "Walk in there, Sir, and you shall soon hear my mind as to -your frolics."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, certainly, I will walk in," replied his son, not appearing in the -least alarmed, though there was something in the expression of his -father's countenance that did frighten him a little, because he had -never seen that something before--something difficult to describe--a -struggle as it were with himself, which showed the anger he felt to be -more profound than he thought it right to show all at once. "I -certainly will walk in and take a cup of tea if you will give me one," -and as he spoke he passed the door into the library.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will neither eat nor drink in this house more, till your conduct -is wholly changed, Sir," said Mr. Wittingham, shutting the door behind -him, "the books are closed, Sir--there is a large balance against you, -and that must be liquidated before they can be opened again. What -brought you here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What I have said," answered the young man, beginning to feel that his -situation was not a very good one, but still keeping up his affected -composure, "the yearnings of filial affection and a lack of -pocket-money."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, you can lie too, to your father," said Mr. Wittingham, bitterly. -"You will find that I can tell the truth however, and to begin, I will -inform you of what brought you hither--but no, it would take too much -time to do that; for the sooner you are gone the better for yourself -and all concerned--you must go, Sir, I tell you--you must go -directly."</p> - -<p class="normal">A hesitation had come upon Mr. Wittingham while he spoke; his voice -shook, his lip quivered, his tall frame was terribly agitated; and his -son attributed all these external signs of emotion to a very different -cause from the real one. He thought he saw in them the symptoms of a -relenting parent, or at least of an irresolute one, and he prepared to -act accordingly; while his father thought of nothing but the danger of -having him found in his house, after the commission of such an outrage -as that which he had perpetrated that night; but the very thought made -him tremble in every limb--not so much for his son indeed, as for -himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I beg pardon, my dear Sir," replied the young man, recovering all his -own impudence at the sight of his father's agitation; "but it would -not be quite convenient for me to go to-night. It is late, I am tired; -my purse is very empty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pray how did you get that cut upon your head?" demanded the -magistrate, abruptly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, a little accident," replied his son; "it is a mere -scratch--nothing at all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It looks very much like a blow from the butt-end of a heavy -horsewhip," said his father, sternly; "just such as a man who had -stopped two ladies in a carriage, might receive from a strong arm come -to their rescue. You do not propose to go then? Well, if that be the -case, I must send for the constable and give you into his hands, for -there is an information laid against you for felony, and witnesses -ready to swear to your person. Shall I ring the bell, or do you go?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The young man's face had turned deadly pale, and he crushed the two -sides of his hat together between his hands. He uttered but one word, -however, and that was, "Money."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not a penny," answered Mr. Wittingham, turning his shoulder, "not one -penny, you have had too much already--you would make me bankrupt and -yourself too." The next moment, however, he continued, "Stay; on one -condition, I will give you twenty pounds."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it?" asked the son, eagerly, but somewhat fiercely too, for -he suspected that the condition would be hard.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is that you instantly go back to Oxford, and swear by all you hold -sacred--if you hold any thing sacred at all--not to quit it for twelve -months, or till Mary Clifford is married."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You ask what I cannot do," said the son, in a tone of deep and bitter -despondency, contrasting strangely with that which he had previously -used; "I cannot go back to Oxford. You must know all in time, and may -as well know it now--I am expelled from Oxford; and you had your share -in it, for had you sent me what I asked, I should not have been driven -to do what I have done. I cannot go back; and as to abandoning my -pursuit of Mary Clifford, I will not do that either. I love her, and -she shall be mine, sooner or later, let who will say no."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Expelled from Oxford!" cried Mr. Wittingham, with his eyes almost -starting from their sockets. "Get out of my sight, and out of my -house; go where you will---do what you will--you are no son of mine -any more. Away with you, or I will myself give you into custody, and -sign the warrant for your committal. Not a word more, Sir, begone; you -may take your clothes, if you will, but let me see no more of you. I -cast you off; begone, I say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I go," answered his son, "but one day you will repent of this, and -wish me back, when perhaps you will not be able to find me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No fear of that," answered Mr. Wittingham, "if you do not return till -I seek you, the house will be long free from your presence. Away with -you at once, and no more words."</p> - -<p class="normal">Without reply, Henry Wittingham quitted the room, and hurried up to -the bed-chamber, which he inhabited when he was at home, opened -several drawers, and took out various articles of dress, and some -valuable trinkets--a gold chain, a diamond brooch, two or three -jewelled pins and rings. He lingered a little, perhaps fancying that -his father might relent, perhaps calculating what his own conduct -should be when he was summoned back to the library. But when he had -been about five minutes in his chamber, there was a tap at the door; -and the housekeeper came in.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is no use, Billiter," said the young man, "I am going. My father -has treated me shamefully."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is no use indeed, Master Harry," replied the good woman, "he is as -hard as stone. I have said every thing he would let me say, but he -drove me out of the room like a wild beast. But don't give it up, -Master Harry. Go away for a day or two to Burton's inn, by -Chandleigh--he'll come round in time, and you can very well spend a -week or so there, and be very comfortable."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But money, Billiter, money!" exclaimed the young man, whose heart had -sunk again to find that all his expectations of his father's -resolution giving way were vain. "What shall I do for money?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay a bit, stay a bit," said the good woman; "what I have got you -may have, Master Harry, as welcome as the flowers in May. I've ten -pounds here in this little purse;" and she dived into one of the large -pockets that hung outside of her capacious petticoat, producing a very -dirty, old knitted purse with a steel clasp, and adding, as she put it -in her young master's hand, "It is a pity now that Mr. Wittingham -wheedled me into putting all the rest of my earnings into the -Tarningham bank, where he has a share---but that will do for the -present, if you are careful, Master Harry--but don't go to drink -claret and such expensive nasty stuff, there's a good boy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I won't, Billiter," answered Henry Wittingham, pocketing the -money without remorse of conscience, "and I will repay you when I -can--some day or another I shall certainly be able, for the houses at -Exmouth are settled upon me;" and packing up all that he thought fit -to take in a large silk-handkerchief, he opened the door again, and -began to descend the stairs. A chilly sensation crept over him ere he -reached the bottom, as memory brought back happy days, and he thought -that he was going forth from the home of his youth, perhaps for ever, -that he was an exile from his father's dwelling, from his love, an -outcast, a wanderer, with nothing but his own wayward spirit for his -guide--nought but his own pride for his support. He was not yet -sufficiently hardened to bear the shadow of his exile lightly, to look -upon it as a relief from restraint, a mere joyous adventure which -would have its interest during its progress, and would soon be over. -But, nevertheless, his pride was strong, and as yet unchecked; and -when the thought of going back to his father, asking his forgiveness, -and promising all that he required, crossed his mind, he cast it from -him with disdain, saying, "Never! never! He shall ask me humbly -first." And, with this very lowly determination, he walked out of the -house.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall be able to hear of you at Burton's, by Chandleigh," said the -housekeeper, as he stood on the top step.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, yes, you will hear of me there," he replied, and descending the -steps, he was soon wandering in darkness amongst parterres, every step -of the way being as familiar to him as his father's library.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER IV.</h4> -<h5>The Post-boy and the Pot-boy.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">After a few words of common observation upon Mr. Wittingham and his -proceedings when that excellent gentleman had left the room at the -little inn of Tarningham, Ned Hayward fell into a very unusual fit of -thought.</p> - -<p class="normal">I do not mean in the least to say that it was unusual for Ned Hayward -to think, for probably he thought as much as other men, but there are -various ways of thinking. There are pondering, meditating, brown -studying, day dreaming, revolving, considering, contemplating, and -though many of these terms may at first sight seem synonymous, yet -upon close examination it will be found that there are shades of -difference between the meanings. Besides these ways or modes of -thinking, there are various other mental processes, such as -investigating, examining, disentangling, inquiring, but with these I -will not meddle, as my business is merely with the various operations -of the mind which require various degrees of rapidity. Now though Ned -Hayward, as I have said, probably thought as much as other men, his -sort of thought was generally of a very quick and active habit. He was -not fond of meditating, his mind's slowest pace was a canter, and when -he found an obstacle of any kind, hedge, gate, fence, or stone wall, -he took up his stirrups and went over it. Now, however, for once in -his life, he paused and pondered for full five minutes, and then -thinking perhaps it might seem a little rude if he treated his -new-found friend to nothing but meditation, he began to talk of other -things, still meditating over the former subject of his contemplations -all the while.</p> - -<p class="normal">It must not be supposed, however, that he did not think of what he was -saying. Such a supposition might indeed be founded upon the old axiom -that men cannot do two things at once. But the axiom is false: there -never was a falser. We are always doing many things at once. There -would be very little use of our having hands and feet, tongues and -eyes, ears and nose, unless each of our organs with a little practice -could go on quite quietly in its little workshop, without disturbing -the others. Indeed it is very serviceable sometimes to give our more -volatile members something light to do, when we are employing others -upon more serious business, just to keep them out of the way, as we do -with noisy children. So also is it with the mind and its faculties, -and it is not only quite possible, depend upon it, dear reader, to -think of two subjects at once, but very common also.</p> - -<p class="normal">Totally unacquainted with Mr. Beauchamp's habits and character, or -what topics he could converse upon, and what not, Ned Hayward -naturally chose one which seemed perfectly indifferent and perfectly -easy; but it led them soon to deeper considerations, as a very small -key will often open a very large door. It led to some political -discussions too; but let it be remarked, this is not a political -novel, that most wearisome and useless of all the illegitimate -offsprings of literature, and therefore if I give a few sentences of -their conversation, it is not to insinuate sneakingly my own opinions, -but merely to display my characters more fully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This seems a very pretty little town," said Ned Hayward, choosing the -first free subject at hand; "quite rural, and with all the -tranquillity of the country about it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is indeed," answered Mr. Beauchamp; "but I should almost have -supposed that a gayer place would have pleased you more. Were you -never here before?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never in my life," replied his companion; "but you are quite mistaken -about my tastes. London, indeed, is a very pleasant place for three -months or so; but one soon gets tired of it. It gets slow, devilish -slow after a while. One cannot go to the theatre every night. There is -little use of going to balls and parties, and risking falling in love -if one has not got money enough to marry. One gets weary of the faces -and the houses in St. James's-street. Morning visits are the greatest -bores in the world. Epsom and Ascot are good enough things in their -way, but they are soon over for one who does not bet and runs no -horses. The newspapers tire me to death--romances I abominate; and -though a good opera comes in twice a-week to lighten the load a -little, it gets desperate heavy on one's shoulders before the first of -July. Antiquaries, connoisseurs, lawyers, physicians, fiddlers, and -portrait-painters, with merchants, and all the bees of the hive, may -find London a very pleasant and profitable place. I am nothing but a -drone, and so I fly away in the country. Of all towns after the second -month, I hate London the most--except a manufacturing town indeed, and -that is always horrible, even to change horses in."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And yet perhaps," answered Beauchamp, "a manufacturing town -offers subjects of deeper interest than any other spot of the -earth--especially at the present moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not in themselves, surely," said Ned Hayward; "the abstract idea of -broad cloth is to me very flat, cotton-spinning not particularly -exciting, iron ware is far too hard for me to handle, and as for the -production of soda and pearlash, I have no genius that way. But I -suppose," he continued, "you mean that the manufacturing towns are -interesting from their bearing upon the prosperity of the country; but -in that case it is your speculations regarding them that interest you, -not the places themselves."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So it is with everything," answered Mr. Beauchamp; "no single image -or impression gives us great pleasure. It is in their combination that -our engagement dwells. Single ideas are but straight lines, blank -plains, monotonous patches of colour. Associate them with other shapes -and hues, and you produce beauty and pleasure. Thus with the -manufacturing towns; if I only went to see a steam-engine work, a -shuttle play, or a spindle turn, I should soon be tired enough; but -when in all that I see there, I perceive a new development of man's -mind, a fresh course opened for his energies when old ones are -exhausted, when I behold the commencement of a great social change, -which shall convert the pursuits of tribes and nations from -agricultural to manufacturing--we rather shall throw the great mass of -human industry, for which its former sphere was too small, into -another and almost interminable channel, I feel that I am a spectator -of a great social phenomenon, as awful and as grand as the lightning -that rends the pine, or the earthquake that overthrows the mountain. -It is magnificent, yet terrible; beautiful, but still sad."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why sad?" demanded Ned Hayward. "I have considered the matter in the -same light a little, and have talked with various grave manufacturers -about it; but they all seem to see nothing in it but what is very fine -and pleasant. They have no apprehension for the result, or doubts -about its doing a great deal of good to every body in the end."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The end!" said Beauchamp, "where is the end? What will the end be? -They see nothing but good; they augur nothing but good, because they -are actively employed in that one particular course, and buoyed up -with those sanguine expectations which active exertion always -produces. Neither do I doubt that the end will be good; but still ere -that end be reached, how much misery, how much strife, how much evil, -must be encountered. One needs but to set one's foot in a factory, ay, -or in a manufacturing town, to see that the evil not only will be, but -is; that we are wading into a dark stream which we must pass over, and -are already knee deep. I speak not of the evils inseparable from the -working of any great change in the relations of society or in its -objects. As we can never climb a hill without some fatigue, so we can -never reach a higher point in social advance without some suffering, -but that inevitable evil I look upon as light, compared with many -other things before us. I doubt not that in God's good providence new -resources will be ever opened before mankind for the employment of -human industry; but when I see even a temporary superfluity of labour, -I tremble to think of what vast power of grinding and oppressing that -very circumstance places in the hands of the employer. Combine that -power with the state of men's minds at present, and all the tendencies -of the age; remember that to accumulate wealth, to rival others in -luxury and display, to acquire at any price and by any means, is a -part not of the manufacturer's spirit, but of the spirit of the age, -and especially of this country, and then see to what purposes must and -will be applied that vast authority or command, which the existing -superabundance of labour, brought about by mechanical inventions and -the natural increase of population entrusts to those who have already -the power of wealth. Were it not for this spirit acting through this -power, should we see in our manufactories such squalid misery, such -enfeebled frames, such overtasked exertions, such want of moral and -religious culture, such recklessness, such vice, such infamy, such -famine?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps not," answered Ned Hayward, "but yet something is to be said -for the manufacturers too. You see, my good Sir, they have to compete -with all Europe. They are, as it were, running a race, and they must -win it, even if they break their horses' wind."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If they do that, they will lose it," replied Beauchamp; "but yet I do -not blame them. I believe the spirit of the times we live in. They -only share it with other men; many of them are humane, kind, generous, -just, who do as much good and as little evil as the iron band of -circumstances will permit; and were all to strive in the same manner, -and to the same degree, that iron band would be broken, and all would -be wiser, happier, better--ay, even wealthier than they are; but, -alas! the example of the good have little influence on the rest on the -same level with themselves, and the example of the bad, immense -influence on every grade beneath them. The cupidity of the great -mill-owner is imitated and exceeded by those below him. He robs the -poor artizan of his labour, by allowing him as little out of the -wealth his exertions earn as the superfluity of industry compels the -artizan to take, and justifies himself with the cold axiom, that he is -not bound to pay more than other men; those below him rob the same -defenceless being of a great part of those poor wages themselves by a -more direct kind of plunder, and have their axiom too. One of the -great problems of the day is this: what proportion of the profits -accruing from the joint-operation of capital and labour is to be -assigned to each of those two elements? And the day will come ere -long, depend upon it, when that great problem must be solved--I -trust not in bloody characters. At present, there is no check to -secure a fair division; and so long as there is none, wealth will -always take advantage of poverty, and the competition for mere food -will induce necessity to submit to avarice, till the burden becomes -intolerable--and then--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What then?" asked Ned Hayward.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, God forbid," answered Beauchamp, "that the fears which will -sometimes arise should ever be verified. A thousand unforeseen events -may occur to waft away the dangers that seem to menace us; but I -cannot help thinking that in the meantime there are many duties -neglected by those who have the power to interfere; for surely, if any -foresight be wisdom, any human providence a virtue, they are the -foresight that perceives the future magnitude of evils yet in the bud, -and the providence that applies a remedy in time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very true," answered Ned Hayward; "things do look rather badly; but I -dare say all will get right at last. I have not thought of such things -very deeply--not half so deeply as you have done, I know; but still I -have been sorry to see, in many of our great towns, the people so -wretched-looking; and sometimes I have thought that if better care -were taken of them--I mean both in mind and body--our judges at the -assizes would not have so much to do. Just as fevers spread through -whole countries from a great congregation of sickly people, so crimes -extend through a land from great congregations of vicious people. For -my part, if, like our good friend Abon Hassan, I could but be caliph -for a short time, I'd open out all the narrow streets, and drain all -the foul lands, and cultivate all ignorant minds, and try to purify -all the corrupt hearts by the only thing that can purify them. But I -am not caliph; and if I were, the task is above me I fancy: but still, -if it could be accomplished, even in part, I am quite sure that -jurymen would dine earlier, lawyers have less to do, courts would rise -at three o'clock, and the lord mayor and sheriffs eat their turtle -more in peace. But talking of that, do you know I have been thinking -all this while how we could get some insight into this affair of the -highway robbery; for I am determined I will not let the matter sleep. -Highway robberies are going quite out of fashion. I have not heard of -one for these four months. Hounslow Heath is almost as safe as -Berkeley-square, and Bagshot no more to be feared than Windsor Castle. -It is a pity to let such things revive; and there is something about -that old fellow Wittingham which strikes me as odd. Another thing too -was funny enough. Why should they pull the young lady out of the -chaise? She could just as well have handed her purse and her trinkets -out of the window!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That seemed strange to me also," answered Beauchamp. "But how do you -propose to proceed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, I think the best way will be to frighten the post-boy," replied -Ned Hayward. "He's in league with the rogues, whoever they are, depend -upon it; and if he thinks his neck's in a noose, he'll peach."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is not improbable," said his companion; "but we had better -proceed cautiously, for if we frighten him into denying all knowledge -of the parties, he will adhere to his story for mere consistency's -sake."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I'll manage him, I will manage him," answered Ned Hayward, -who had carried so many points in his life by his dashing -straightforwardness, that he had very little doubt of his own powers. -"Come along, and we will see. Let us saunter out into the yard, in a -quiet careless way, as if we were sentimental and loved moonlight. We -shall find him somewhere rubbing down his horses, or drinking a pint -on the bench."</p> - -<p class="normal">The two gentlemen accordingly took their hats and issued forth, Ned -Hayward leading the way first out into the street through a -glass-door, and then round into the yard by an archway. This -manœuvre was intended to elude the vigilant eyes of Mr. Groomber, -and was so far successful that the landlord, being one of that small -class of men who can take a hint, did not come out after them to offer -his services, though he saw the whole proceeding, and while he was -uncorking sherry, or portioning out tea, or making up a bill, kept one -eye--generally the right--turned towards a window that looked in the -direction of the stables. Before those stables the bright moon was -laying out her silver carpeting, though, truth to say, she might have -found a cleaner floor to spread it on; and there too paraded up and -down our friends, Ned Hayward and Mr. Beauchamp, looking for the -post-boy who had driven Mrs. Clifford and her daughter, but not -perceiving him in any direction. Ned Hayward began to suspect he had -reckoned without his host. The man was not rubbing down his horses, he -was not drinking a pint on the bench, he was not smoking a pipe at the -inn door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well," he said at length, "I will look into all the stables to see -after my horse. It is but right I should attend to his supper now I -have had my own, and perhaps we may find what we are looking for on -the road. Let us wait awhile, however, till that one-eyed ostler is -passed, or he will tell us where the horse is, and spoil our -manœuvre." And, walking on, he pointed out to Beauchamp a peculiar -spot upon the moon's surface, and commented upon it with face upturned -till the inconvenient ostler had gone by.</p> - -<p class="normal">At that moment, however, another figure appeared in the yard, which at -once brought light into Ned Hayward's mind. It was not a pretty -figure, nor had it a pretty face belonging to it. The back was bowed -and contorted in such a manner as to puzzle the tailor exceedingly to -fit it with a fustian jacket when it required a new one, which luckily -was not often; the legs were thin, and more like a bird's than a human -being's, and though the skull was large and not badly shaped, the -features that appeared below the tall forehead seemed all to be -squeezed together, so as to acquire a rat-like expression, not -uncommon in the deformed. The head, which was bare, was thatched with -thin yellow hair, but the eyes were black and clear, and the teeth -large and white, the garments which this poor creature wore, were -those of an inferior servant of an inn; and his peculiar function -seemed to be denoted by a tankard of beer, which he carried in his -hand from the door of the tap towards the stables.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is carrying our friend his drink," said Ned Hayward, in a whisper -to Beauchamp, "let us watch where the little pot-boy goes in, and I'll -take seven to one we find the man we want."</p> - -<p class="normal">The pot-boy gave a shrewd glance at the two gentlemen as he passed -them, but hurried on towards one of the doors far down the yard, which -when it was opened displayed a light within; and as soon as he had -deposited his tankard and returned, those who had watched him followed -his course and threw back the same door without ceremony. There before -them, seated on a bench at a deal-table, was the post-boy of whom they -were in search. They had both marked him well by the evening light, -and there could be no doubt of his identity, though by this time he -had got his hat and jacket off, and was sitting with a mane-comb on -one hand and a curry-comb on the other, and the tankard of beer -between them. He was a dull, unpleasant, black-bearded sort of fellow -of fifty-five or six, with a peculiarly cunning gray eye, and a -peculiarly resolute slow mouth, and as soon as Ned Hayward beheld the -expression by the light of a tallow-candle in a high state of -perspiration, he muttered "We shall not make much of this specimen."</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, he went on in his usual careless tone addressing the -lord of the posting-saddle, and saying, "Good night, my man; I want -you to tell me where I can find a gentleman I wish to see here -abouts."</p> - -<p class="normal">The post-boy had risen, and pulled the lock of short black and white -hair upon his forehead, but without looking a bit more communicative -than at first, and he merely answered, "If I knows where he lives, -Sir. What's his name?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why that's another matter," replied Ned Hayward; "perhaps he may not -much like his name mentioned; but I can tell you what people call him -sometimes. He goes by the name of Wolf occasionally."</p> - -<p class="normal">The slightest possible twinkle of intelligence came into the man's -eyes for a moment, and then went out again, just as when clouds are -driving over the sky at night we sometimes see something sparkle for -an instant, and then disappear from the heavens, so faint while it is -present, and so soon gone, that we cannot tell whether it be a star or -not.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can't say I ever heard of such a gemman here, Sir," replied the -post-boy. "There's Jimmy Lamb, Sir, the mutton-pieman, but that's the -nearest name to Wolf we have in these parts."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, my good friend, you saw him this very night," said Mr. -Beauchamp, "when the chaise was stopped that you were driving. He was -one of the principals in that affair."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Likely, Sir," answered the other, "but they were all strangers to -me--never set eyes on one 'on 'em afore. But if you knows 'em, you'll -soon catch 'em; and that will be a good job, for it is very unpleasant -to be kept a waiting so. It's as bad as a 'pike."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I've a notion," said Ned Hayward, "that you can find out my man for -me if you like; and if you do, you may earn a crown; but if you do not -you may get into trouble, for concealing felons renders you what is -called an accessory, and that is a capital crime. You know the law, -Sir," he continued, turning to Beauchamp, and speaking in an -authoritative tone, "and if I am not mistaken, this comes under the -statute of limitations as a clear case of misprision, which under the -old law was merely burning in the hand and transportation for life, -but is now hanging matter. You had better think over the business, my -man, and let me have an immediate answer with due deliberation, for -you are not a person I should think to put your head in a halter, and -if you were, I should not advise you to do so in this case."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you, Sir," said the post-boy, "I won't; but I don't know the -gemmen as showed themselves such rum customers, nor him either as you -are a axing arter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is in vain, I fear," said Beauchamp to his companion in a very low -voice, as their respondent made this very definite answer, "the -magistrates may perhaps obtain some further information from him when -he finds that the matter is serious, but we shall not."</p> - -<p class="normal">The post-boy caught a few of the words apparently, and perhaps it was -intended that he should do so, but they were without effect; and when -at length they walked away baffled, he twisted the eyelids into a sort -of wreath round his left eye, observing with his tongue in his cheek, -"Ay, ay, my covies, no go!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward opened the door somewhat suddenly, and as he went out, he -almost tumbled over the little humpbacked pot-boy. Now whether the -young gentleman--his years might be nineteen or twenty, though his -stature was that of a child of eight--came thither to replenish the -tankard he had previously brought, or whether he affected the -moonlight, or was fond of conversation in which he did not take a -part, Ned Hayward could not at the moment divine; but before he and -Beauchamp had taken a dozen steps up the yard, Hayward felt a gentle -pull at his coat-tail.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it, my lad?" he said, looking down upon the pot-boy, and at -the same time stooping his head as if with a full impression that his -ears at their actual height could hear nothing that proceeded from a -point so much below as the deformed youth's mouth.</p> - -<p class="normal">Instantly a small high-pitched but very musical voice replied, "I'll -come for your boots early to-morrow, Sir, and tell you all about it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can't you tell me now?" asked the young gentleman, "I am going into -the stable to see my horse, and you can say your say there, my man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I daren't," answered the pot-boy, "there's Tim the Ostler, and Jack -Millman's groom, and Long Billy, the Taunton post-boy, all about. -I'll come to-morrow and fetch your boots."</p> - -<p class="normal">At the same moment the landlord's voice exclaiming in sharp tones, -"Dicky! Dicky Lamb!--what the devil are you so long about?" was heard, -and the pot-boy ran off as fast as his long thin legs would carry him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well this affair promises some amusement," said Ned Hayward, when -they had again reached the little parlour, which in his good-humoured -easy way he now looked upon as common to them both. "Upon my word I am -obliged to these highwaymen, or whatever the scoundrels may be, for -giving me something fresh to think of. Although at good Sir John -Slingsby's I shall have fishing enough, I dare say, yet one cannot -fish all day and every day, and sometimes one gets desperately bored -in an old country-house, unless fate strikes out something not quite -in the common way to occupy one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did you ever try falling in love?" asked Beauchamp, with a quiet -smile, as he glanced his eyes over the fine form and handsome features -of his companion, "it is an excellent pastime, I am told."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No!" answered Ned Hayward quickly and straightforwardly; "I never -did, and never shall. I am too poor, Mr. Beauchamp, to marry in my own -class of society, and maintain my wife in the state which that class -implies. I am too honest to make love without intending to marry; too -wise I trust to fall in love where nothing could be the result but -unhappiness to myself if not to another also." He spake these few -sentences very seriously; but then, resuming at once his gay rattling -manner, he went on: "Oh, I have drilled myself capitally, I assure -you. At twenty I was like a raw recruit, bungling at every step; found -myself saying all manner of sweet things to every pretty face I met; -felt my heart beating whenever, under the pretty face, I thought I -discovered something that would last longer. But I saw so much of love -in a cottage and its results, that, after calculating well what a -woman brought up in good society would have to sacrifice who married a -man with 600<i>l</i>. a-year, I voted it unfair to ask her, and made up my -mind to my conduct. As soon as ever I find that I wish to dance with -any dear girl twice in a night, and fall into reveries when I think of -her, and feel a sort of warm blood at my fingers' ends when my hand -touches hers, I am off like a hair-trigger, for if a man is bound to -act with honour to other men, who can make him if he does not -willingly, he is ten times more strongly bound to do so towards women, -who can neither defend nor avenge themselves."</p> - -<p class="normal">With a sudden impulse Beauchamp held out his hand to him, and shook -his heartily, and that grasp seemed to say, "I know you now to the -heart. We are friends."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward was a little surprised at this enthusiastic burst of Mr. -Beauchamp for he had set him down for what is generally called a very -gentlemanlike person, which means, in the common parlance of the -world, a man who has either used up every thing like warm feeling, or -has never possessed it, and who, not being troubled with any emotions, -suffers polite manners and conventional habits to rule him in and out. -With his usual rapid way of jumping at conclusions--which he often -found very convenient, though to say the truth he sometimes jumped -over the right ones--he said to himself at once, "Well, this is really -a good fellow, I do believe, and a man of some heart and soul."</p> - -<p class="normal">But though Beauchamp's warm shake of the hand had led him to this -conviction, and he thought he began to understand him, yet Ned Hayward -was a little curious as to a question which his new friend had asked -him some time before. He had answered it, it is true, by telling him -that he took care not to fall in love; but he fancied that Mr. -Beauchamp had inquired in a peculiar tone, and that he must have had -some meaning more than the words implied, taken in their simple and -straightforward application.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come now, tell me, Beauchamp," he said, after just five seconds -consideration, "what made you ask if I had ever tried falling in love -by way of amusement? Did you ever hear any story of my being guilty of -such practices? If you have it was no true one--at least for six or -seven years past."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no," replied Beauchamp laughing, "I have had no means of learning -your secret history. I only inquired because, if you have never tried -that pleasant amusement, you will soon have a capital opportunity. Sir -John Slingsby's daughter is one of the loveliest girls I ever saw."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, old Jack with a daughter!" exclaimed Ned Hayward, and then -added after a moment's thought, "By the way, so he had. I remember her -coming to see him when we were at Winchester. He was separated from -her mother, who was a saint, I recollect. Nobody could accuse old Jack -of that himself, and his daughter used to come and see him at times. A -pretty little girl she was; I think five or six years old. Let me see, -she must be about sixteen or seventeen now; for that is just ten years -ago, when I was an ensign."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is more than that," answered Beauchamp, "by two or three years; -and either it must be longer since you saw her, or--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no, it is just ten years ago," cried Mr. Hayward; "ten years next -month, for I was then seventeen myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, she must have been older than you thought," replied his -companion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very likely," said Mr. Hayward. "I never could tell girls' ages, -especially when they are children. But there is no fear of my falling -in love with her, if she is what you tell me. I never fell in love -with a beautiful woman in my life--I don't like them; they are always -either pert, or conceited, or vain, or haughty, or foolish. Sooner or -later they are sure to find some ass to tell them how beautiful they -are, and then they think that is quite sufficient for all the purposes -of life."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps because they are first impressed with a wrong notion of the -purposes of life," answered Beauchamp; "but yet I never heard of a man -before who objected to a woman because she was pretty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," answered Ned Hayward, "that is a very different thing. I -did not say pretty. I am very fond of what is pretty. Oh! the very -word is delightful. It gives one such a nice, good-humoured, -comfortable idea: it is full of health, and youth, and good spirits, -and light-heartedness--the word seems to smile and speak content; and -when it is the expression that is spoken of, and not the mere -features, it is very charming indeed. But a beautiful woman is a very -different thing. I would as soon marry the Venus de Medicis, pedestal -and all, as what is usually called a beautiful woman. But now let us -talk of this other affair. I wonder what will come of my mysterious -post-boy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, I doubt not you will obtain some information regarding the -gentleman calling himself Wolf," replied Beauchamp; "but if you do, -how do you intend to proceed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hunt him down as I would a wolf," answered Ned Hayward.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then pray let me share the sport," rejoined Beauchamp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! certainly, certainly," said Ned Hayward; "I'll give the view -halloo as soon as I have found him; and so now, good night, for I am -somewhat sleepy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Goodnight, goodnight!" answered Beauchamp; and Ned Hayward rang for a -bed-candle, a boot-jack, a pair of slippers, and sundry other things -that he wanted, which were brought instantly, and with great good -will. Had he asked for a nightcap it would have been provided with -the same alacrity; for those were days in which nightcaps were -furnished by every host to every guest; though now (alas! for the good -old times) no landlord ever thinks that a guest will stay long enough -in his house to make it worth while to attend to his head-gear. But -Ned Hayward needed no nightcap, for he never wore one, and therefore -his demands did not at all overtax his host's stock.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER V.</h4> -<h5>The old Mill.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was just in the gray of the morning, and the silver light of dawn -was stealing through the deep glens of the wood, brightening the dewy -filaments that busy insects had spun across and across the grass, and -shining in long, glistening lines, upon the broad clear stream. It was -a lovely stream as ever the eye of meditation rested on, or thoughtful -angler walked beside; and from about two miles beyond Slingsby Park to -within half a mile of the small town of Tarningham, it presented an -endless variety of quiet English scenery, such as does the heart of -man good to look upon. In one part it was surrounded by high hills, -not unbroken by jagged rocks and lofty banks, and went on tumbling in -miniature cascades and tiny rapids. At another place it flowed on in -greater tranquillity through green meadows, flanked on either hand by -tall, stately trees, at the distance of eighty or ninety yards from -the banks; not in trim rows, all ranged like rank and file upon -parades, but straggling out as chance or taste had decided, sometimes -grouping into masses, sometimes protruding far towards the stream, -sometimes receding coyly into the opening of a little dell. Then again -the river dashed on at a more hurried rate through a low copse, -brawling as it went over innumerable shelves of rock and masses of -stone, or banks of gravel, which attempted to obstruct its course; and -nearer still to the town it flowed through turfy banks, slowly and -quietly, every now and then diversified by a dashing ripple over a -shallow, and a tumble into a deep pool.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was in the gray of the morning, then, that a man in a velveteen -jacket was seen walking slowly along by the margin, at a spot where -the river was in a sort of middle state, neither so fierce and restive -as it seemed amongst the hills, nor so tranquil and sluggish as in the -neighbourhood of the little town. There were green fields around; and -numerous trees and copses approaching sometimes very close to the -water, but sometimes breaking away to a considerable distance, and -generally far enough off for the angler to throw a fly without hooking -the branches around. Amongst some elms, and walnuts, and Huntingdon -poplars on the right bank, was an old square tower of very rough -stone, gray and cold-looking, with some ivy up one side, clustering -round the glassless window. It might have been mistaken for the ruin -of some ancient castle of no great extent, had it not been for the -axle-tree and some of the spokes and fellies of a dilapidated -water-wheel projecting over the river, and at once announcing for what -purposes the building had been formerly used, and that they had long -ceased. There was still a little causeway and small stone bridge of a -single arch spanning a rivulet that here joined the stream, and from a -doorway near the wheel still stretched a frail plank to the other -side of the dam, which, being principally constructed of rude layers -of rock, remained entire, and kept up the water so as to form an -artificial cascade. Early as was the hour, some matutinal trout, who, -having risen by times and perhaps taken a long swim before breakfast, -felt hungry and sharpset, were attempting to satisfy their voracious -maws by snapping at a number of fawn-coloured moths which imprudently -trusted themselves too near the surface of the water. The religious -birds were singing their sweet hymns all around, and a large -goatsucker whirled by on his long wings, depriving the trout of many a -delicate fly before it came within reach of the greedy jaws that were -waiting for it below the ripple.</p> - -<p class="normal">But what was the man doing while fish, flies, and birds were thus -engaged? Marry he was engaged in a very curious and mysterious -occupation. With a slow step and a careful eye fixed upon the glassy -surface beneath him, he walked along the course of the current down -towards the park paling that you see there upon the left. Was he -admiring the speckled tenants of the river? Was he admiring his own -reflected image on the shining mirror of the stream? He might be doing -either, or both; but, nevertheless, he often put his finger and thumb -into the pocket of a striped waistcoat; pulled out some small round -balls, about the size of a pea or a little larger, marvellously like -one of those boluses which doctors are sometimes fain to prescribe, -and chemists right willing to furnish, but which patients find it -somewhat difficult to swallow. These he dropped one by one into the -water, wherever he found a quiet place, and thus proceeded till he had -come within about three hundred yards of the park wall. There he -stopped the administration of these pills; and then, walking a little -further, sat down by the side of the river, in the very midst of a -tall clump of rushes.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a minute or two something white, about the length of eighteen -inches, floated down; and instantly stretching forth a long hooked -stick, our friend drew dexterously in to the shore a fine large trout -of a pound and a half in weight. The poor fellow was quite dead, or at -least so insensible that he did not seem at all surprised or annoyed -to find himself suddenly out of his element, and into another -gentleman's pocket, though the transition was somewhat marvellous, -from the fresh clear stream to a piece of glazed buckram. Most people -would have disliked the change, but Mister Trout was in that sort of -state that he did not care about any thing. Hardly was he thus -deposited when one of his finny companions--perhaps his own brother, -or some other near relation--was seen coming down the stream with his -stomach upwards, a sort of position which, to a trout, is the same as -standing on the head would be to a human being. This one was nearer -the bank, and first he hit his nose against a stump of tree, then, -whirling quietly round, he tried the current tail foremost; but it was -all of no avail, he found his way likewise into the pocket, and two -more were easily consigned to the same receptacle, all of them showing -the same placid equanimity. At length one very fine fish, which seemed -to weigh two pounds and a half, at the least, followed advice, and -took a middle course. He was out of reach of the stick; the water was -too deep at that spot to wade, and what was our friend of the pocket -to do? He watched the fish carried slowly down the stream towards the -place where the river passed under an archway into Sir John Slingsby's -park. It was fat and fair, and its fins were rosy as if the morning -sun had tinged them. Its belly was of a glossy white, with a kindly -look about its half-expanded gills, that quite won our friend's -affection. Yet he hesitated; and being a natural philosopher, he knew -that by displacing the atoms of water the floating body might be -brought nearer to the shore. He therefore tried a stone: but whether -he threw it too far, or not far enough, I cannot tell; certain it is, -the trout was driven further away than before, and to his -inexpressible disappointment, he saw it carried through the arch. He -was resolved, however, that it should not thus escape him. Difficult -circumstances try, if they do not make, great men; and taking a little -run, he vaulted over the park paling and into the park.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was just in the act of getting over again, perhaps feeling if he -stayed too long it might be considered an intrusion, and had the fish -in his hand, so that his movements were somewhat embarrassed, when a -little incident occurred which considerably affected his plans and -purposes for the day.</p> - -<p class="normal">I have mentioned an old mill, and sundry trees and bushes at different -distances from the bank, breaking the soft green meadow turf in a very -picturesque manner. In the present instance, these various objects -proved not only ornamental but useful--at least to a personage who had -been upon the spot nearly as long as our friend in the velveteen -jacket. That personage had been tempted into the mill either by its -curious and ancient aspect, or by the open door, or by surprise, or by -some other circumstance or motive; and once in he thought he might as -well look out of the window. When he did look out of the window, the -first thing his eyes fell upon, was the first-mentioned gentleman -dropping his pills into the water; and there being something curious -and interesting in the whole proceeding, the man in the mill watched -the man by the river for some minutes. He then quietly slipped out, -and as the door was on the opposite side from that on which the -operations I have described were going on, he did so unperceived. It -would seem that the watcher became much affected by what he saw; for -the next minute he glided softly over the turf behind a bush, and -thence to a clump of trees, and then to a single old oak with a good -wide trunk--rather hollow and somewhat shattered about the branches, -but still with two or three of the lower boughs left, having a fair -show of leaves, like a fringe of curly hair round the poll of some -bald Anacreon. From that he went to another, and so on; in fact, -dodging our first friend all the way down, till the four first trout -were pocketed, and the fifth took its course into the park. When the -betrayer of these tender innocents, however, vaulted over the paling -in pursuit, the dodger came out and got behind some bushes--brambles, -and other similar shrubs that have occasionally other uses than -bearing blackberries; and no sooner did he see the successful chaser -of the trout, with his goodly fish in his hand and one leg over the -paling, about to return to the open country, than taking two steps -forward, he laid his hand upon his collar, and courteously helped him -over somewhat faster than he would have come without such assistance.</p> - -<p class="normal">The man of fishes had his back to his new companion at the moment when -he received such unexpected support; but as soon as his feet touched -the ground on the other side, he struggled most unreasonably to free -his collar from the grasp that still retained it. He did not succeed -in this effort; far from it; for he well-nigh strangled himself in the -attempt to get out of that iron clutch; but, nevertheless, he -contrived, at the risk of suffocation, to bring himself face to face -with his tenacious friend, and beheld, certainly what he did not -expect to see. No form of grim and grisly gamekeeper was before him; -no shooting-jacket and leathern leggings; but a person in the garb of -a gentleman of good station, furnished with arms, legs, and chest of -dimensions and materials which seemed to show that a combat would be -neither a very safe nor pleasant affair.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who the devil are you?" asked the lover of trout, in the same terms -which Mr. Wittingham had used the night before to the very same -personage.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, ha, my friend!" exclaimed Ned Hayward; "so you have been -hocussing the trout have you?" And there they stood for a few minutes -without any answers to either question.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER VI.</h4> -<h5>In which Ned Hayward plays the part of Thief-taker.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Of all the turnings and windings in this crooked life, one of the most -disagreeable is turning back; and yet it is one we are all doomed to -from childhood to old age. We are turned back with the smaller and the -greater lessons of life, and have alas, but too often, in our -obstinacy or our stupidity to learn them over and over again. I with -the rest of my herd must also turn back from time to time; but on the -present occasion it shall not be long, as I am not in a sportive mood -this morning, and could find no pleasure in playing a trout or a -salmon, and should be disgusted at the very sight of a cat with a -mouse.</p> - -<p class="normal">We have seen our good friend, Ned Hayward, lay his hand stoutly on the -collar of a gentleman who had been taking some unwarrantable liberties -with the finny fair ones of the stream; but the question is, how -happened Ned Hayward to be there at that particular hour of the -morning? Was he so exceedingly matutinal in his habits as to be -usually up, dressed, and out and walking by a piece of water at a -period of the day when most things except birds, fish, and poachers -are in their beds? Had he been roused at that hour by heartach, or -headach, or any other ache? Was he gouty and could not sleep--in love, -and not inclined to sleep? No, reader, no. He was an early man in his -habits it is true, for he was in high health and spirits, and with a -busy and active mind which looked upon slumber as time thrown away; -but then though he rose early he was always careful as to his dress. -He had a stiff beard which required a good deal of shaving, his hair -took him a long time, for he liked it to be exceedingly clean and -glossy. Smooth he could not make it, for that the curls prevented, -curls being obstinate things and resolved to have their own way. Thus -with one thing or another, sometimes reading scraps of a book that lay -upon his dressing-table, sometimes looking out of window, and thinking -more poetically than he had any notion of, sometimes cleaning his -teeth till they looked as white and as straight as the keys of a new -pianoforte, sometimes playing a tune with his fingers on the top of -the table, and musing philosophically the while, it was generally at -least one hour and a half from the time he arose before he issued -forth into the world.</p> - -<p class="normal">This was not always the case indeed, for on May mornings, when the -trout rise, in August, if he were near the moors, on the first of -September, wherever he might be, for he was never at that season in -London, he usually abridged his toilet, and might be seen in the green -fields, duly equipped for the sport of the season, very shortly after -daybreak.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the present occasion, and the morning of which I have just spoken, -there cannot be the slightest doubt that he would have laid in bed -somewhat longer than usual, for he had had a long ride the day before, -some excitement, a good supper, and had sat up late; but there was one -little circumstance which roused him and sent him forth. At about a -quarter before five he heard his door open, and a noise made amongst -the boots and shoes. He was in that sleepy state in which the events -of even five or six hours before are vague and indefinite, if -recollected at all, and although he had some confused notion of having -ordered himself to be called early, yet he knew not the why or the -wherefore, and internally concluded that it was one of the servants of -the inn come to take his clothes away for the purpose of brushing -them; he thought, as that was a process with which he had nothing to -do, he might as well turn on his other side and sleep it out. Still, -however, there was a noise in the room, which in the end disturbed -him, and he gave over all the boots, physical or metaphysical, to the -devil. Then raising himself upon his elbow, he looked about, and by -the dim light which was streaming through the dimity curtains--for the -window was unfurnished with shutters--he saw a figure somewhat like -that of a large goose wandering about amidst the fragments of his -apparel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What in the mischiefs name are you about?" asked Ned Hayward, -impatiently. "Can't you take the things and get along?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It's me, Sir," said the low, sweet-toned voice of the humpbacked -pot-boy, who had not a perfect certainty in his own mind that neuter -verbs are followed by a nominative case, "you were wishing to know -last night about--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, hang it, so I was," exclaimed Ned Hayward, "but I had forgotten -all about it--well, my man, what can you tell me about this fellow, -this Wolf? Where does he live, how can one get at him? None of the -people here will own they know any thing about him, but I believe they -are lying, and I am very sure of it. The name's a remarkable one, and -not to be mistaken."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, Sir," answered the pot-boy, "they knew well enough whom you want, -though you did not mention the name they chose to know him by. If you -had asked for Ste Gimlet, they'd have been obliged to answer, for they -can't deny having heard of him. Wolf's a cant name, you see, which he -got on account of his walking about so much at night, as they say -wolves do, though I never saw one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, where is he to be found?" asked Ned Hayward, in his usual rapid -manner, and he then added, to smooth down all difficulties, "I don't -want to do the man any harm if I can help it, for I have a notion, -somehow, that he is but a tool in the business; and therefore, -although I could doubtless with the information you have given me of -his real name, find him out, and deal with him as I think fit, yet I -would rather have his address privately, that I may go and talk to him -alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Sir, he may be a tool," answered the pot-boy, "but he's an -awkward tool to work with; and I should think you had better have two -or three stout hands with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I will think of that, my man," answered the young gentleman; -"but at all events I should like to know where to find him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That's not quite so easy, Sir," replied the hunchback, "for he -wanders about a good deal, but he has got a place where he says he -lives on Yaldon Moor, behind the park, and that he's there some time -in every day is certain. I should think the morning as good a time as -any, and you may catch him on the look-out if you go round by the back -of the park, and then up the river by the old mill. There's an overgo -a little higher up, and I shouldn't wonder if he were dabbling about -in the water; for it isn't the time for partridges or hares, and he -must be doing something."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what sort of place has he on the moor?" asked Ned Hayward, -beginning to get more and more interested in the pursuit of his -inquiries; "how can I find it, my man?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It's not easy," answered his companion, "for it's built down in the -pit. However, when you have crossed by the overgo, you will find a -little path just before you, and if you go along that straight, -without either turning to the right or the left, it will lead you -right up to the moor. Then I'm sure I don't know how to direct you, -for the roads go turning about in all manner of ways."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it east, west, north, or south?" asked Captain Hayward, -impatiently.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why east," answered the boy; "and I dare say if you go soon you will -find the sun just peeping out over the moor in that direction. It's a -pretty sight, and I've looked at it often to see the sunshine come -streaming through the morning mist, and making all the green things -that grow about there look like gold and purple, and very often, too, -I've seen the blue smoke coming up out of the pit from Ste's -cottage-chimney, Perhaps it may be so when you go, and then you'll -easily find it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And whose park is it you speak of, boy?" said Ned Hayward. "There may -be half-a-dozen about here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Sir John Slingsby's," answered the boy, "that's the only one we -call the park about here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, then, I know it," rejoined the gentleman, stretching out his hand -at the same time, and taking his purse from a chair that stood by his -bedside; "there's a crown for you; and now carry off the boots and -clothes, and get them brushed as fast as possible."</p> - -<p class="normal">The boy did as he was told, took the crown with many thanks, gathered -together the various articles of apparel which lay scattered about, -and retired from the room. Ned Hayward, however, without waiting for -his return, jumped out of bed, drew forth from one of his portmanteaus -another complete suit of clothes, plunged his head, hands, and neck in -cold water, and then mentally saying, "I will shave when I come back," -he dressed himself in haste, and looked out for a moment into the -yard, to see whether many of the members of the household were astir. -There was a man at the very further end of the yard cleaning a horse, -and just under the window, the little deformed pot-boy, whistling a -plaintive air with the most exquisite taste, while he was brushing a -coat and waistcoat. The finest and most beautiful player on the -flageolet, never equalled the tones that were issuing from his little -pale lips, and Ned Hayward could not refrain from pausing a moment to -listen, but then putting on his hat, he hurried down stairs, and -beckoned the boy towards him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not say that I am out, my man, unless any questions are asked," he -said; "and when you have brushed the clothes, put them on a chair at -the door."</p> - -<p class="normal">The boy nodded significantly, and our friend, Ned Hayward, took his -way out of the town in the direction that the boy had indicated. Of -all the various bumps in the human head, the bump of locality is the -foremost. This book the reader is well aware is merely a phrenological -essay in a new form. So the bump of locality is the most capricious, -whimsical, irrational, unaccountable, perverse, and unmanageable of -all bumps. To some men it affords a faculty of finding their way about -houses--I wish to Heaven it did so with me, for I am always getting -into wrong rooms and places where I have no business--others it -enables to go through all sorts of tortuous paths and ways almost by -intuition; with others it is strong regarding government offices, and -the places connected therewith; but in Ned Hayward it was powerful in -the country, and it would have been a very vigorous <i>ignis fatuus</i> -indeed that would lead him astray either on horseback or on foot. -Three words of direction generally sufficed if they were clear, and he -was as sure of his journey as if he knew every step of the way. There -might be a little calculation in the thing--a sort of latent -argumentation--for no one knew better that if a place lay due north, -the best way to arrive at it was not to go due south, or was more -clearly aware that in ordinary circumstances, the way into the valley -was not to climb the hill; but Ned Hayward was rarely disposed to -analyse any process in his own mind. He had always hated dissected -puzzles even in his boyhood; and as his mind was a very good mind, he -generally let it take its own way, without troubling it with -questions. Thus he walked straight on out of the little town along the -bank of the river, and finding himself interrupted, after about three -miles, by the park-wall, he took a path through the fields to the -left, then struck back again to the right, and soon after had a -glimpse of the river again above its passage through Sir John -Slingsby's park.</p> - -<p class="normal">All this time Ned Hayward's mind was not unoccupied. He saw every -thing that was passing about him, and meditated upon it without -knowing that he was meditating. The sky was still quite gray when he -set out, but presently the morning began to hang out her banners of -purple and gold to welcome the monarch of day, and Ned Hayward said to -himself, "How wonderfully beautiful all this is, and what a fine -ordination is it that every change in nature should produce some -variety of beauty." Then he remarked upon the trees, and the birds, -and the meadows, and the reflections of the sky in a clear, smooth -part of the river, and with somewhat of a painter's mind, perceived -the beautiful harmony that is produced by the effect that one colour -has upon another by its side. And then he passed a little village -church, with the steeple shrouded in ivy, and it filled his mind full -of quiet and peaceful images, and simple rural life (with a moral to -it all), and his thoughts ran on to a thousand scenes of honest -happiness, till he had the game at skittles and the maypole on the -green up before him as plain as if it were all real; and the ivy and -two old yews carried him away to early times when that ancient church -was new. Heaven knows how far his fancy went galloping!--through the -whole history of England at least. But all these reveries went out of -his head almost as soon as the objects that excited them, and then, as -he went through some neat hedgerows and pleasant corn-fields, which -promised well in their green freshness for an abundant harvest, he -began to think of partridges and an occasional pheasant lying under a -holly-bush, and pointing dogs and tumbling birds, a full game-bag, and -a capital dinner, with a drowsy evening afterwards. Good Heaven! what -a thing it is to be young, and in high health, and in high spirits; -how easy the load of life sits upon one; how insignificant are its -cares to its enjoyments; every moment has its flitting dream; every -hour its becoming enjoyment, if we choose to seek it; every flower, be -it bitter or be it sweet, be it inodorous or be it perfumed, has its -nectarial fall of honeyed drops, ripe for the lip that will vouchsafe -to press it. But years, years, they bring on the autumn of the heart, -when the bright and blooming petals have passed away, when the dreams -have vanished with the light slumbers of early years, and every thing -is in the seed for generations to come; we feel ourselves the husks of -the earth, and find that it is time to fall away, and give place to -the bloom and blossom of another epoch.</p> - -<p class="normal">Our friend, however, if not in the budding time of life, had nothing -of the sere and yellow leaf about him; he was one of those men who was -calculated to carry on the day-dream of boyhood, even beyond its -legitimate limit; nothing fretted him, nothing wore him, few things -grieved him. It required the diamond point to make a deep impression, -and though he reflected the lights that fell upon him from other -objects, it was but the more powerful rays that penetrated into the -depth, and that not very frequently. Thus on he went upon his way, and -what he had got to after partridges and field-swamps, and matters of -such kind, Heaven only knows. He might be up in the moon for aught I -can tell, or in the Indies, or riding astride upon a comet, or in any -other position the least likely for a man to place himself in, except -when aided by the wings of imagination; and yet, strange to say, Ned -Hayward had not the slightest idea that he had any imagination at all. -He believed himself to be the most simple jog-trot, matter-of-fact -creature in all the world; but to return, he was indulging in all -sorts of fantasies, just when a little path between two high hedges -opened out upon a narrow meadow, by the side of the river at a spot -just opposite the old mill, and not more than forty or fifty yards -distant from the door thereof. He saw the old mill and the stream, but -saw nothing else upon my word, and thinking to himself,</p> - -<p class="normal">"What a picturesque ruin that is, it looks like some feudal castle -built beside the water, parting two hostile barons' domains. What the -deuce can it have been?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Doubt with him always led to examination, so without more ado, he -crossed over the open space with his usual quick step, entered the -mill, looked about him, satisfied himself in a minute as to what had -been its destination, and then gazed out of the windows, first up the -stream, and next down. Up the stream he saw some swallows skimming -over the water, the first that summer had brought to our shores; and, -moreover, a sedate heron, with its blue back appearing over some -reeds, one leg in the water, and one raised to its breast. When he -looked down, however, he perceived the gentleman I have described, -dropping some pellets into the water, and he thought "That's a curious -operation, what can he be about?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The next minute, however, the legitimate wooer of the fishes turned -his face partly towards the mill, and Ned Hayward murmured, "Ah ha, -Master Wolf, <i>alias</i> Ste Gimlet, I have you now, I think." And issuing -forth, he dogged him down the bank as I have before described, till at -length, choosing his moment dexterously, he grasped him by the collar, -in such a manner, that if he had had the strength of Hercules, he -would have found it a more difficult matter to escape, than to kill -forty Hydras, or clean fifty Augean stables.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hocussing the fish!" said the prisoner, in answer to one of Captain -Hayward's first intimations of what he thought of his proceedings. "I -don't know what you mean by hocussing the fish--I've got a few dead -'uns out of the river, that's all; and no great harm, I should think, -just to make a fry."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, my good friend," replied Ned Hayward, "dead enough, I dare say -they were when you got them; but I'm afraid we must have a coroner's -inquest upon them, and I do not think the verdict will be 'Found -drowned.' What I mean, my man, is that you have poisoned them--a -cunning trick, but one that I know as well as your name or my own."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And what the devil is your name?" asked the captive, trying to twist -himself round, so as at least to get a blow or a kick at his captor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be quiet--be quiet!" answered Ned Hayward, half strangling him in his -collar. "My name is my own property, and I certainly will not give it -to you; but your own you shall have, if you like. You are called Ste -Gimlet or I am mistaken, but better known at night by the name of -Wolf."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man muttered an angry curse, and Ned Hayward continued,</p> - -<p class="normal">"You see I know all about you; and, to tell you the truth, I was -looking for you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, so he's had some 'un down from London," said Wolf, entirely -mistaking the nature of Captain Hayward's rank and avocation. "Well, -so help me--, if I ever did this on his ground, afore, Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Master Gimlet," answered Ned Hayward, perfectly understanding -what was passing in the man's mind, and willing to encourage the -mistake, "I have been asked down certainly, and I suppose I must take -you before Sir John Slingsby at once--unless, indeed, you like to make -the matter up one way or another."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I haven't got a single crown in the world," answered the poacher; "if -you know all, you'd know that I am poor enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, but there are more ways than one of making matters up," rejoined -Ned Hayward, in a menacing tone. "You know a little bit of business -you were about last night."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man's face turned as white as a sheet, and his limbs trembled as -if he had been in the cold fit of an ague. All his strength was gone -in a moment, and he was as powerless as a baby.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why," faltered he at length, "you could not be sent for that affair, -for there's not been time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, certainly," replied the young gentleman; "but having been asked -down here on other matters, I have just taken that up, and may go -through with it or not, just as it suits me. Now you see, Ste," he -continued, endeavouring to assume, as well as he could, somewhat of -the Bow-street officer tone, and doing so quite sufficiently to effect -his object with a country delinquent, "a nod you know is quite as good -as a wink to a blind horse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay, I understand, Sir," answered Mr. Gimlet.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then," continued Ned Hayward, "I understand, too; and being -quite sure that you are not what we call the principal in this -business, but only an accessory, I am willing to give you a chance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank'ee, Sir," replied Wolf, in a meditative tone, but he said no -more; and his captor, who wished him to speak voluntarily, was -somewhat disappointed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are mighty dull, Master Wolf," said Ned Hayward, "and therefore I -must ask you just as plain a question as the judge does when he has -got the black cap in his hand ready to put on. Have you any thing to -say why I should not take you at once before Sir John Slingsby?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, what the devil should I say?" rejoined the man, impatiently. "If -you know me, I dare say you know the others, and if you're so cunning, -you must guess very well that it was not the money that we were after; -so that it can't be no felony after all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If it is not a felony, it is not worth my while to meddle with," -answered Ned Hayward, "but there may be different opinions upon that -subject; and if you like to tell me all about it, I shall be able to -judge. I guessed it was not for money; but there is many a thing as -bad as that. I don't ask you to speak, but you may if you like. If you -don't, come along."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I'll speak all I know," answered Wolf, "that's to say, if -you'll just let me get breath, for, hang me, if your grip does not -half strangle me. I'll not mention names though, for I won't peach; -but just to show you that there was nothing so very wrong, I'll tell -you what it was all about--that's to say, if you'll let me off about -these devils of fish."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Agreed as to the fish," replied Ned Hayward, "if you tell the truth. -I don't want to throttle you either, my good friend; but mark me well, -if I let go my hold, and you attempt to bolt, I will knock you down, -and have you before a magistrate in five minutes. Sit down there on -the bank then." And without loosening his grasp, he forced his -prisoner to bend his knees and take up a position before him, from -which it would not have been possible to rise without encountering a -blow from a very powerful fist. When this was accomplished, he let the -man's collar go, and standing directly opposite, bade him proceed.</p> - -<p class="normal">This seemed not so easy a task as might have been imagined, at least -to our friend Mr. Gimlet, who, not being a practised orator, wanted -the art of saying as much as possible upon every thing unimportant, -and as little as possible upon every thing important. He scratched his -head heartily, however, and that stimulus at length enabled him to -produce the following sentence.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, you see, Sir, it was nothing at all but a bit of lovemaking."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It did not look like it," answered Ned Hayward.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, it was though," said Mr. Gimlet, in a decided tone. "The young -gentleman, whom I'm talking of, wanted to get the young lady away; for -you see her mother looks very sharp after her, and so he had a chaise -ready, and me and another to help him, and if those two fellows had -not come up just as we were about it, he'd have had her half way to -Scotland by this time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And where is the young gentleman, as you call him, now?" asked Ned -Hayward, in that sort of quiet, easy tone, in which people sometimes -put questions, which, if considered seriously, would be the least -likely to receive an answer, just as if a straightforward reply were a -matter of course.</p> - -<p class="normal">But his companion was upon his guard. "That's neither here nor there," -he replied.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is I can assure you, my good friend Wolf," said the young -gentleman; "for whatever you may think, this was just as much a felony -as if you had taken a purse or cut a throat. Two pistols were fired, I -think--the young lady is an heiress; and forcibly carrying away an -heiress, is as bad as a robbery; it is a sort of picking her pocket of -herself. So, if you have a mind to escape a noose, you'll instantly -tell me where he is."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man thrust his hands into his pockets, and gazed at his -interrogator with a sullen face, in which fear might be seen -struggling with dogged resolution; but Ned Hayward the moment after, -added as a sort of rider to his bill,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I dare say he is some low fellow who did it for her money."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, that he's not, by--!" cried the other. "He's a gentleman's son, -and a devilish rich un's too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah ha! Mr. Wittingham's!" cried Ned Hayward, "now I understand you," -and he laughed with his peculiar clear, merry laugh, which made Mr. -Gimlet, at first angry, and then inclined to join him. "And now, my -good friend," continued Ned Hayward, laying his hand upon his -companion's shoulder, "you may get up and be off. You've made a great -blunder, and mistaken me for a very respectable sort of functionary, -upon whose peculiar province I have no inclination to trespass any -further--I mean a thief-taker. If you will take my advice, however, -neither you nor Mr. Wittingham will play such tricks again, for if you -do you may fare worse; and you may as well leave off hocussing trout, -snaring pheasants and hares, and shooting partridges on the sly, and -take to some more legitimate occupation. You would make a very good -gamekeeper, I dare say, upon the principle of setting a thief to catch -a thief, and some of these days I will come up to your place upon the -moor, and have a chat with you about it; I doubt not you could show me -some sport with otters, or badgers, or things of that kind."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my soul and body you're a cool hand," cried Ste Gimlet, rising -and looking at Captain Hayward, as if he did not well know whether to -knock him down or not.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am," answered our friend Ned, with a calm smile, "quite cool, and -always cool, as you'll find when you know me better. As to what has -passed to-day I shall take no notice of this fish affair, and in -regard to Mr. Wittingham's proceedings last night, I shall deliberate -a little before I act. You'd better tell him so when you next see him, -just to keep him on his good behaviour, and so good morning to you, my -friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, Ned Hayward turned away, and walked towards the town, -without once looking back to see whether his late prisoner was or was -not about to hit him a blow on the head. Perhaps had he known what was -passing in worthy Mr. Gimlet's mind, he might have taken some -precaution; for certainly that gentleman was considerably moved; but -if the good and the bad spirit had a struggle together in his breast, -the good got the better at length, and he exclaimed, "No, hang it, I -won't," and with a slow and thoughtful step he walked up the stream -again, towards the path which led to the moor.</p> - -<p class="normal">Upon that path I shall leave him, and begging the reader to get -upon any favourite horse he may have in the stable--hobby or not -hobby--canter gaily back again to take up some friends that we have -left far behind.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER VII.</h4> -<h5>Introduces Miss Slingsby to the Reader.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The reader may remember that we left a lady and her daughter, whom Ned -Hayward afterwards discovered to be a Mrs. and Miss Clifford, standing -at the door of Sir John Slingsby's house, in the heart of what was -called Tarningham Park. All that Ned Hayward (or the reader either) -knew of their history at the moment that he quitted them, after having -assisted them to alight from their carriage, was as follows: that the -elder lady had been sent for to see her elder brother in his last -moments, he having been accused of having gout in the stomach, and -that she and her daughter had been stopped on the king's highway by -three personages, two of whom, at least, had pistols with them, that -they had been rescued by Captain Hayward himself, and another -gentleman, that on arriving at Tarningham House it did not look at all -like the dwelling of a dying man, and that the answer of the butler to -Mrs. Clifford's inquiries regarding her brother's health was, "Quite -well, thank you Ma'am," delivered in the most commonplace tone in the -world.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the precise point of time when this reply was made, Ned Hayward -took his leave, remounted his horse, and rode back to Tarningham, and -after he was gone Mrs. Clifford remained for at least thirty seconds -somewhat bewildered with what seemed to her a very strange -announcement. When she had done being bewildered, and seemed to have -got a slight glimpse of the real state of the case, she turned an -anxious glance to her daughter, to which Miss Clifford, who fully -understood what it meant, replied at once, without requiring to have -it put into words, "You had better go in, dear mamma," she said, "it -will grieve poor Isabella if you do not, and besides, it might be -risking a great deal to go back at night with nobody to protect us."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Clifford still hesitated a little, but in the meantime some -by-play had been going on which decided the question. The butler had -called a footman, the footman had taken a portmanteau and some smaller -packages from the boot of the carriage. The name of Mrs. Clifford had -been mentioned once or twice, a lady's-maid crossing the hall had seen -the two ladies' faces by the light of a great lamp, and in a moment -after, from a door on the opposite side of the vestibule, came forth a -fair and graceful figure, looking like Hebe dressed for dinner.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, my dear aunt!" she exclaimed, running across to Mrs. Clifford and -kissing her, "and you, too, my dear Mary! This is indeed an unexpected -pleasure; but come in, come into the drawing-room; they will bring in -all the things--there is no one there," she continued, seeing her aunt -hesitated a little, "I am quite alone, and shall be for the next two -hours, I dare say."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Clifford suffered herself to be led on into a fine large -old-fashioned drawing-room, and then began the explanations.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so, Isabella, you did not expect me to-night," said the elder -lady, addressing Hebe. "Either for jest or for mischief some one has -played us a trick. Have you got the letter, Mary?"</p> - -<p class="normal">It was in Miss Clifford's writing-desk, however, as letters always are -in some place where they cannot be found when they are wanted; but the -fact was soon explained that Mrs. Clifford that very day about four -o'clock had received a letter purporting to come from the housekeeper -at Turningham House, informing her that her brother, Sir John -Slingsby, had been suddenly seized with gout in the stomach, and was -not expected to live from hour to hour, that Miss Slingsby was too -much agitated to write, but that Sir John expressed an eager desire to -see his sister before he died.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good gracious!" exclaimed the fair Isabella, "who could have done -such a thing as that?" and then she laughed quietly, adding, "Well, at -all events I am very much obliged to them; but it was a shameful -trick, notwithstanding."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You haven't heard the whole yet, Isabella," replied Mrs. Clifford, -"for we have been stopped between this and Tarningham, and should have -been robbed--perhaps murdered--if two gentlemen had not come up to our -rescue--good Heaven, it makes me feel quite faint to think of it." And -she sat down in one of the large arm-chairs, and put her hand to her -head, while her check turned somewhat pale.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take a little wine, my dear aunt," cried Isabella, and before Mrs. -Clifford could stop her she had darted out of the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as she was alone with her daughter, the widow lady gazed round -the chamber in which she sat with a thoughtful and melancholy look. -She was in the house where her early days of girlhood had passed--she -was in the very room where she had gone in all the agitation of happy -love as a bride to the altar. She peopled the place with forms that -could no longer be seen, she called up the loved and the dead, the -parents who had cherished and instructed her, the fair sister who had -bloomed and withered by her side. How many happy, how many a painful -scene rose to the eye of memory on that stage where they had been -enacted. All the material objects were the same, the pictures, the -furniture, the old oak paneling with its carved wreaths; but where -were they who moved so lately beside her in that chamber--where was -all that had there been done? The grave and the past--man's tomb, and -the tomb of man's actions had received them, and in the short space of -twenty years all had gone, fading away and dissolving into air like a -smoke rising up unto heaven, and spreading out thinner and thinner, -till naught remains. Herself and a brother, from whom many -circumstances had detached her, were all that were left of the crowd -of happy faces that remembrance called back as she sat there and gazed -around. Some tears rose to her eyes, and Mary who had been standing by -gazing at her face, and reading in it with the quick appreciation of -affection all the emotions which brought such shadows over the loved -mother's brow, knelt down beside her, and taking her hand in hers said -earnestly, "Mamma, dear mamma, I know this is painful, but pray for my -sake and Isabella's let the shameful deceit that has been played upon -us produce a good and happy result. You are here in my uncle's house; -be reconciled to him fully, I beseech you. You know that he is -good-humoured notwithstanding all his faults, and I cannot but think -that if those who might have led him to better things had not -withdrawn from him so completely, he might now have been a different -man."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Clifford shook her head mournfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear child," she said, "you know that it is not resentment; it was -your good father who did not feel it consistent with his character and -station to countenance all that takes place here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But for Isabella's sake," said Miss Clifford, earnestly, and before -her mother could answer, the young lady of whom she spoke re-entered -the room with a servant carrying some refreshments.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh dear aunt," she said, while the wine and water and biscuits were -placed upon a small table at Mrs. Clifford's elbow, "it makes me so -glad to see you, and I have ordered the blue room at the south side to -be got ready for you directly, and then there is the corner one for -Mary, because it has a window both ways, and when she is in a gay mood -she can look out over the meadows and the stream, and when she is in -her high pensiveness she can gaze over the deep woods and hills. Then -she is next to me too, so that she may have merry nonsense on one -side, and grave sense on the other; for I am sure you will stay a long -while with us now you are here, and papa will be so glad."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear it cannot be very long, my love," replied Mrs. Clifford. "In -the first place I have come it seems uninvited, and in the next place -you know, Isabella, that I am sometimes out of spirits, and perhaps -fastidious, so that all guests do not at all times please me. Who have -you here now? There seemed a large party in the dining-room."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, there are several very foolish men," answered Sir John Slingsby's -daughter, laughing, "and one wise one. There is Mr. Dabbleworth, who -was trying to prove to me all dinner-time that I am an electrical -machine; and in the end I told him that I could easily believe he was -one, for he certainly gave me a shock, and Sir James Vestage who -joined in and insisted that instead of electrical machines men were -merely improved monkeys. I told him that I perfectly agreed with him, -and that I saw fresh proofs of it every day. Then up by papa was -sitting old Mr. Harrington, the fox-hunter; what he was saying I do -not know, for I never listen to any thing he says, as it is sure -either to be stupid or offensive. Then there was Charles Harrington, -who lisped a good deal, and thought himself exceedingly pretty, and -Mr. Wharton, the lawyer, who thought deeply and drank deeply, and said -nothing but once."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But who was your wise man, dear Isabella?" asked Mary, very willing -to encourage her fair cousin in her light cheerfulness, hoping that it -might win Mrs. Clifford gently from sadder thoughts.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, who but good Dr. Miles," answered Miss Slingsby, "who grumbled -sadly at every body, and even papa did not escape, I can assure you. -But all these people will be gone in an hour or two, and in the -meantime I shall have you all alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then there is no one staying in the house, Isabella?" said Mrs. -Clifford. "I heard at Tarningham that your father expected some people -from London."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only one, I believe," answered the fair daughter of the house, "but -he has not arrived yet, and perhaps may not. He is a Captain Hayward, -who was ensign in papa's regiment long ago. I never saw him, but -people say 'he's the best fellow in the world.' You know what that -means, Mary: a man that will drink, or hunt, or shoot, or fish with -any body, or every body, and when none of these are to be done, will -go to sleep upon the sofa. Pray, pray do stay, dear aunt, till he is -gone, for I know not what I should do with him in the house by myself. -I positively must get papa to ask somebody else, or get the good -doctor to come up and flirt with him to my heart's content, just as a -diversion from the pleasures of this Captain Hayward's society."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A very disagreeable person, I dare say," replied Mary Clifford; "it -is very odd how names are perverted, so that 'a good creature' means a -fool in the world's parlance; 'a very respectable man' is sure to be a -very dull one; and 'the best fellow in the world' is invariably--"</p> - -<p class="normal">But her moralising fit was suddenly brought to an end by the door of -the drawing-room being thrown open, and Sir John Slingsby rushing in.</p> - -<p class="normal">Stay a moment, reader, and observe him before he advances. Honest Jack -Slingsby! Roystering Sir John! Jolly old Jack! Glorious Johnny! By all -these names was he known, or had been known by persons in different -degrees of acquaintanceship with him. That round and portly form, now -extending the white waistcoat and black-silk breeches, had once been -slim and graceful: that face glowing with the grape in all its -different hues, from the <i>œil de perdrix</i> upon the temples and -forehead to the deep purple of old port in the nose, had once been -smooth and fair. That nose itself, raising itself now into mighty -dominion over the rest of the face, and spreading out, Heaven knows -where, over the map of his countenance, like the kingdom of Russia in -the share of Europe, was once fine and chiselled like Apollo's own. -That thin white hair flaring up into a cockatoo on the top of his head -to cover the well-confirmed baldness, was once a mass of dark curls -that would not have disgraced the brow of Jove. You may see the -remains of former dandyism in the smart shoe, the tight silk-stocking, -the well cut blue-coat; and you may imagine how much activity those -limbs once possessed by the quick and buoyant step with which the -capacious stomach is carried into the room. There is a jauntiness, -too, in the step which would seem to imply that the portion of -youthful vigour and activity, which is undoubtedly gone, has been -parted from with regret, and that he would fain persuade himself and -others that he still retains it in his full elasticity; but yet there -is nothing affected about it either, and perhaps after all it is -merely an effort of the mind to overcome the approach of corporeal -infirmity, and to carry on the war as well as may be. Look at the -good-humoured smile, too, the buoyant, boisterous, overflowing -satisfaction that is radiating from every point of that rosy -countenance. Who on earth could be angry with him? One might be -provoked, but angry one couldn't be. It is evidently the face -of one who takes the world lightly--who esteems nothing as very -heavy--retains no impressions very long--enjoys the hour and its -pleasures to the very utmost, and has no great consciousness of sin or -shame in any thing that he does. He is, in fact, a fat butterfly, who, -though he may have some difficulty in fluttering from flower to -flower, does his best to sip the sweets of all he finds, and not very -unsuccessfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">With that same jaunty light step, with that same good-humoured, -well-satisfied smile, Sir John Slingsby advanced straight to his -sister, took her in his arms, gave her a hearty kiss, and shook both -her hands, exclaiming in around, full, juicy voice, almost as fat as -himself,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, my dear Harriet, I'm very happy to see you; this <i>is</i> kind, -this is very kind indeed; I could hardly believe my ears when the -servants told me you were here, but I left the fellows immediately to -fuddle their noses at leisure, and came to assure myself that it was a -fact. And my dear Mary, too, my little saint, how are you, my dear -girl?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"We were brought here, John," replied Mrs. Clifford, "by a very -shameful trick." And she proceeded to explain to him the trick which -had been practised upon her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gout!" exclaimed Sir John, "gout in the stomach! It would be a -devilish large gout to take up his abode in my stomach, or else he'd -find the house too big for him;" and he laid his hand upon his large -paunch with an air of pride and satisfaction. "Gout! that does not -look like gout I think," and he stuck out his neat foot, and trim -well-shaped ankle; "never had but one threatening of a fit in my life, -and then I cured it in an afternoon--with three bottles of Champagne -and a glass of brandy," he added, in a sort of loud aside to Mary, as -if she would enter into the joke better than her mother. "And so -really, Harriet, you would not have come if you had not thought me -dying. Come, come now, forget and forgive; let bygones be bygones; I -know I am a d--d fool, and do a great many very silly things; but 'pon -my soul I'm very sorry for it, I am indeed; you can't think how I -abominate myself sometimes, and wonder what the devil possesses me. -I'll repent and reform, upon my life I will, Harriet, if you'll just -stay and help me--it's being left all alone to struggle with -temptation that makes me fail so often, but every ten minutes I'm -saying to myself, 'What an old fool you are, Jack Slingsby!' so now -you'll stay like a dear good girl, as you always were, and help to -make my house a little respectable. Forget and forgive, forget and -forgive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear John, I have nothing to forgive," answered Mrs. Clifford. -"You know very well that I would do any thing in the world to promote -your welfare, and always wished it, but---"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay, it was your husband," answered Sir John, bringing an instant -cloud over his sister's face. "Well, he was a good man--an excellent -man--ay, and a kind man too, and he was devilish right after all; I -can't help saying it, though I suffer. In his station what could he -do? An archdeacon and then a dean, it was not to be expected that he -should countenance rioting, and roaring, and drinking, and all that, -as we used to do here; but 'pon my life, Harriet, I'll put an end to -it. Now you shall see, I won't drink another glass to-night, and I'll -send all those fellows away within half an hour, by Jove! I'll just go -back and order coffee in the dining-room, and that'll be a broad hint, -you know. Bella will take care of you in the meantime, and I'll be -back in half an hour--high time I should reform indeed--even that -monkey begins to lecture me. I've got a capital fellow coming down to -stay with me--the best fellow in the world--as gay as a lark, and as -active as a squirrel; yet somehow or other he always kept himself -right, and never played at cards, the dog, nor got drunk either that I -ever saw; yet he must have got drunk too, every man must sometimes, -but he kept it devilish snug if he did--by the by, make yourselves -comfortable." And without waiting to hear his sister's further -adventures on the road, Sir John Slingsby tripped out of the room -again, and notwithstanding all his good resolutions, finished -two-thirds of a bottle of claret while the servants were bringing in -the coffee.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rather a more favourable account of your expected guest, Isabella, -than might have been supposed," said Mrs. Clifford, as soon as Sir -John Slingsby was gone. "A young man who did not drink or play in your -father's regiment, must have been a rare exception; for I am sorry to -say that it had a bad name in those respects long before he got it, -and I believe that it did him a great deal of harm."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Papa is so good-humoured," replied Miss Slingsby, "that he lets -people do just what they like with him. I am sure he wishes to do all -that is right."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Clifford was silent for a moment or two, and then turned the -conversation; but in the house of her brother she was rather like a -traveller who, riding through a country, finds himself suddenly and -unexpectedly in the midst of what they call in Scotland a shaking -moss; whichever path she took, the ground seemed to be giving way -under her. She spoke of the old park and the fine trees, and to her -dismay, she heard that Sir John had ordered three hundred magnificent -oaks to be cut down and sold. She spoke of a sort of model farm which -had been her father's pride, and after a moment or two of silence, -Isabella thought it better, to prevent her coming upon the same -subject with her father, by telling her that Sir John, not being fond -of farming, had disposed of it some three months before to Mr. -Wharton, the solicitor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He could not find a tenant easily for it," she continued, "and it -annoyed him to have it unoccupied, so he was persuaded to sell it, -intending to invest the money in land adjoining the rest of the -property."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope Mr. Wharton gave him a fair price for it?" said Mrs. Clifford.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I really don't know," answered her niece; "I dislike that man very -much."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so do I," said Mary Clifford.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so do I," added her mother, thoughtfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wharton had evidently not established himself in the favour of the -ladies, and as ladies are always right, he must have been a very bad -man indeed.</p> - -<p class="normal">To vary the pleasures of such a conversation, Miss Slingsby soon after -ordered tea, trusting that her father would return before it was over. -Sir John Slingsby's half hour, however, extended itself to an hour and -a half, but then an immense deal of loud laughing and talking, moving -feet, seeking for hats and coats, and ultimately rolling of wheels, -and trotting of horses, was heard in the drawing-room, and the baronet -himself again appeared, as full of fun and good-humour as ever. He -tried, indeed, somewhat to lower the tone of his gaiety, to suit his -sister's more rigid notions; but although he was not in the least -tipsy--and indeed it was a question which might have puzzled Babbage's -calculating machine to resolve what quantity of any given kind of wine -would have affected his brain to the point of inebriety--yet the -potations in which he had indulged had certainly spread a genial -warmth through his bosom, which kept his spirits at a pitch -considerably higher than harmonised very well with Mrs. Clifford's -feelings.</p> - -<p class="normal">After about half an hour's conversation, then, she complained of -fatigue, and retired to bed, and was followed by her niece and her -daughter, after the former, at her father's desire, had sung him a -song to make him sleep comfortably. Sir John then stretched his legs -upon a chair to meditate for a minute or two over the unexpected event -of his sister's arrival. But the process of meditation was not one -that he was at all accustomed to, and consequently he did not perform -it with great ease and dexterity. After he had tried it for about -thirty seconds, his head nodded, and then looking up, he said, "Ah!" -and then attempted it again. Fifteen seconds were enough this time; -but his head, finding that it had disturbed itself by its rapid -declension on the former occasion, now sank gradually on his shoulder, -and thence found its way slowly round to his breast. Deep breathing -succeeded for about a quarter of an hour, and then an awful snore, -loud enough to rouse the worthy baronet by his own trumpet. Up he -started, and getting unsteadily upon his legs, rubbed his eyes, and -muttered to himself, "Time to go to bed." Such was the conclusion of -his meditation, and the logical result of the process in which he had -been engaged.</p> - -<p class="normal">The next morning, however, at the hour of half-past nine, found Sir -John in the breakfast-room, as fresh, as rosy, and as gay as ever. If -wine had no effect upon his intellect at night, it had none upon his -health and comfort in the morning; the blushing banner that he bore in -his countenance was the only indication of the deeds that he achieved; -and kissing the ladies all round, he sat down to the breakfast-table, -and spent an hour with them in very agreeable chat. He was by no means -ill-informed, not without natural taste, a very fair theoretical -judgment, which was lamentably seldom brought into practice, and he -could discourse of many things, when he liked it, in as gentlemanlike -and reasonable a manner as any man living; while his cheerful -good-humour shed a sunshine around that, in its sparkling warmth, made -men forget his faults and over-estimate his good qualities. He had a -particular tact, too, of palliating errors that he had committed, -sometimes by acknowledging them frankly, and lamenting the infatuation -that produced them, sometimes by finding out excellent good reasons -for doing things which had a great deal better been left undone. Mary -and Isabella had been walking in the park before breakfast, talking of -all those things which young ladies find to converse about when they -have not met for some time; and Sir John, at once aware that his -niece's eye must have marked the destruction going on among the old -trees, asked her in the most deliberate tone in the world, if she had -seen the improvements he was making.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford replied "No," and looked at her cousin as if for -explanation, and then Sir John exclaimed,</p> - -<p class="normal">"God bless my soul, did you not see the alley I am cutting? It will -make the most beautiful vista in the world. First you will go round -from the house by the back of the wood, slowly mounting the hill, by -what we call the Broad Walk, and then when you have reached the top, -you will have a clear view down through a sort of glade, with the old -trees on your right and left hand, over the clumps of young firs in -the bottom, catching the stream here and there, and having the -park-wall quite concealed, till the eye passing over the meadows, just -rests upon Tarningham church, and then running on, gets a view of your -own place Steenham, looking like a white speck on the side of the -hill, and the prospect is closed by the high grounds beyond. My dear -Mary, it is the greatest improvement that ever was made--we will go -and see it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now the real truth was, that Sir John Slingsby, some four or five -months before, had very much wanted three thousand pounds, and he had -determined to convert a certain number of his trees into bank-notes; -but being a man of very good taste, as I have said, he had arranged -the cutting so as to damage his park scenery as little as possible. -Nevertheless, in all he said to Mary Clifford, strange as the -assertion may seem, he was perfectly sincere; for he was one of those -men who always begin by deceiving themselves, and having done that, -can hardly be said to deceive others. It is a sort of infectious -disease they have, that is all, and they communicate it, after having -got it themselves. Before he had cut a single tree, he had perfectly -persuaded himself that to do so would effect the greatest improvement -in the world, and he was quite proud of having beautified his park, -and at the same time obtained three thousand pounds of ready money.</p> - -<p class="normal">Doubtless, had the conversation turned that way, he would have found -as good an excuse, as valid a reason, as legitimate a motive, for -selling the model farm; but that not being the case, they went on -talking of different subjects, till suddenly the door opened, the -butler, who was nearly as fat as his master, advanced three steps in a -solemn manner, and announced, "Captain Hayward."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir John instantly started up, and the three ladies raised their eyes -simultaneously, partly with that peculiar sort of curiosity which -people feel when they look into the den of some rare wild beast, and -partly with that degree of interest which we all take in the outward -form and configuration of one of our own species, upon whom depends a -certain portion of the pleasure or pain, amusement or dulness, of the -next few hours. The next moment our friend Ned Hayward was in the -room. He was well-dressed and well-looking, as I have already -described him in his riding costume. Gentleman was in every line and -every movement, and his frank, pleasant smile, his clear, open -countenance were very engaging even at the first sight. Sir John shook -him warmly by the hand, and although the baronet's countenance had so -burgeoned and blossomed since he last saw him, that the young -gentleman had some difficulty in recognising him, his former colonel, -yet Ned Hayward returned his grasp with equal cordiality, and then -looked round, as his host led him up towards Miss Slingsby, and -introduced them to each other. Great was the surprise of both the -baronet and his daughter, to see Mrs. Clifford rise, and with a warm -smile extend her hand to their new guest, and even Mary Clifford -follow her mother's example, and welcome, as if he were an old friend, -the very person with whose name they had seemed unacquainted the night -before.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah ha, Ned!" cried Sir John; "how is this, boy? Have you been -poaching upon my preserves without my knowing it? 'Pon my life, -Harriet, you have kept your acquaintance with my little ensign quite -snug and secret."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is an acquaintance of a very short date, John," replied Mrs. -Clifford; "but one which has been of inestimable service to me -already."</p> - -<p class="normal">And she proceeded in a very few words to explain to her brother the -debt of gratitude she owed to Captain Hayward for his interference the -night before, and for the courtesy he had shown in escorting and -protecting her to the doors of that very house.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir John immediately seized his guest by the two lapels of the coat, -exclaiming,</p> - -<p class="normal">"And why the devil didn't you come in, you dog? What, Ned Hayward at -my gates, an expected guest, and not come in! I can tell you we should -have given you a warm reception, fined you a couple of bottles for -being late at dinner, and sent you to bed roaring drunk."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward gave a gay glance round at the ladies, as if inquiring -whether they thought these were great inducements; he answered, -however,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Strange to say, I did not know it was your house, Sir John."</p> - -<p class="normal">And now having placed our friend Ned Hayward comfortably between two -excessively pretty girls of very different styles of beauty, and very -different kinds of mind, I shall leave Fate to settle his destiny, and -turn to another scene which had preceded his arrival at Tarningham -House.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER VIII.</h4> -<h5>Ned Hayward and Beauchamp pay a visit to Mr. Wittingham.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Man never sees above half of anything, never knows above half of any -thing, never understands above half of any thing; and upon this half -sight, half knowledge, and half understanding, he acts, supplying the -deficiency of his information by a guess at the rest, in which there -is more than an equal chance that he is wrong instead of right. That -is the moral of this chapter.</p> - -<p class="normal">After Ned Hayward's interview with Stephen Gimlet, alias Wolf, our -friend turned his steps back towards Tarningham, and arrived at the -White Hart by eight o'clock. About three quarters of an hour had -shaved him, dressed him, and brushed his hair, and down he went to the -little parlour in which he had passed the preceding evening just in -time to find Mr. Beauchamp beginning his breakfast. Although the -latter gentleman shook his companion cordially by the hand, and seemed -to look upon his presence in the parlour as a matter of course, Ned -Hayward thought fit to apologise for his intrusion, adding, "I shall -not maroon myself upon you very long, for soon after breakfast I shall -decamp to Sir John Slingsby's."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry, I assure you, to lose the pleasure of your society so -soon," replied Beauchamp, and then added, addressing the maid, who had -just brought in some broiled ham, "you had better bring some more cups -and saucers, my good girl."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And some more ham, and also a cold fowl," added Ned Hayward. "I have -the appetite of an ogre, and if you do not make haste, I must have a -bit out of your rosy cheek, my dear, just to stay my stomach."</p> - -<p class="normal">"La, Sir!" cried the maid, with a coquettish little titter; but she -ran away to get what was wanted, as if she were really afraid of the -consequences of Ned Hayward's appetite, and as soon as she was gone, -he said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have got news for you, Beauchamp; but I will wait till the room is -clear before I give it. I have been up and out, over the hills and -faraway this morning; so I have well earned my breakfast."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" exclaimed his companion with a look of surprise, "really you -are an active general, but you should have given your fellow-soldiers -information of your movements, and we might have combined operations."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There was no time to be lost," answered Hayward.</p> - -<p class="normal">But at that moment the maid returned with the cold fowl; the ham was -still in the rear, and it was not till breakfast was half over that -the young officer could tell his tale. When he had got as far with it -as the first explanations of Mr. Gimlet, Beauchamp exclaimed eagerly, -"And what did it turn out to be?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing after all but a love affair," answered Ned. "Now, my dear -Beauchamp, I have as much compassion for all lovers as an old -match-making dowager, and therefore I think it will be better to let -this matter drop quietly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, certainly," answered his new friend, "I am quite as -tender-hearted in such matters as yourself; but are you quite sure of -the fact? for this seems to me to have been a very odd way of making -love."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was so assuredly," replied Hayward, "but nevertheless the -tale is true. The fact is the young lady is an heiress, the mother -strict--most likely the latter looks for some high match for her -daughter, and will not hear of the youth's addresses. He falls into -despair, and with a Roman courage resolves to carry off a bride. -Unfortunately for his purpose, we come up, and the rape of the Sabines -is prevented; but 'pon my honour, I admire the fellow for his spirit. -There is something chivalrous, nay more, feudal about it. He must -fancy himself some old baron who had a right prescriptive to run away -with every man's daughter that suited him; and, on my life, my dear -Beauchamp, I can go on no further in attempting to punish him for a -deed whose hot and proof spirit shames this milk-and-water age. Oh, -the times of carrying off heiresses, of robbing in cocked hats, and -full-bottomed wigs, of pinking one's adversary under the fifth rib in -Leicester Fields, with gentlemen in high shoes and gold lace for -seconds, and chairmen for spectators, when will they come again? Gone, -gone for ever, my dear Beauchamp, into the same box as our -grandmother's brocade-gown, and with them the last spark of the spirit -of chivalry has expired."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very true," answered Beauchamp, smiling at his companion's tirade, -"there was certainly an adventurous turn about those days which saved -them from dulness; but yet there was a primness about them which was -curious, a formality mingling with their wildest excesses, a prudery -with their licentiousness, which can only be attributed to the cut of -their clothes. There is some mysterious link between them, depend upon -it, Hayward, and whether it be that the clothes affect the man, or the -man the clothes, it is not for me to say; but the grand internal -harmony of nature will not be violated, and the spirit of the age is -represented in the coats, waistcoats, and breeches of the people of -the period much better than in all the stupid books written from time -to time to display it."</p> - -<p class="normal">This was the first sentence that Ned Hayward had ever heard his -companion speak in a jocular tone, but Beauchamp immediately went on -in a graver manner to say, "Yet, after all, I do not see how we can -drop this matter entirely. Far be it from me, of all men on earth, to -persecute another, but yet, having already given information of this -attempt at robbery, as it seemed to us, and tendered our evidence on -oath, we cannot well draw back. A gross offence has indubitably been -committed, not only in the attack upon these two ladies, but also in -the very violent and murderous resistance which was made when we -arrived to their rescue; and this young gentleman should have a -warning at least."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To be sure, to be sure," answered Ned Hayward, "I have got the pistol -ball singing in my ear now, and I am quite willing to give him a -fright, and old Wittingham too. The latter I will, please Heaven, -torment out of the remnant of seven senses that he has left, for a -more pompous, vulgar old blockhead I never saw; and therefore I should -propose at once--that is to say, as soon as I have done this cup of -coffee--you have finished I see--to go to good Mr. Wittingham's and -belabour him with our small wits till he is nearly like the man who -was scourged to death with rushes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nothing quite so sanguinary as that, I trust," said Beauchamp, -"but I will accompany you willingly and see fair play between you and -the magistrate."</p> - -<p class="normal">According to this arrangement, as soon as breakfast was over, and Ned -Hayward had given some directions with regard to preparing his horse, -his baggage, and a conveyance for the latter, the two gentlemen -sallied forth to the magistrate's room in the town, where they found -Mr. Wittingham seated with a clerk, the inferior attorney of the -place. The latter was a man well fitted to prompt an ignorant and -self-conceited magistrate in a matter of difficulty, if its importance -were not very great, and he knew all the particulars. He was a little -fat compact man, in form, feature, and expression very like a Chinese -pig. His nose had the peculiar turn-up of the snout of that animal, -his small eyes the same sagacious twinkle, his retreating under-jaw -the same voracious and ever-ready look, and when at all puzzled he -would lift his head and give a peculiar snort, so exceedingly porcine -in its tone, that one could scarcely divest one's self of the idea -that he was one of the mud-loving herd.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the present occasion, indeed, he was ignorant of the facts of the -case about to be brought before Mr. Wittingham. The latter gentleman -having considered with great solicitude whether he should make him -acquainted with all that had occurred and seek his advice and -co-operation. But Mr. Wittingham was cautious, exceedingly cautious, -as I have already shown, when no strong passion caused him to act in a -decided manner upon the spur of the moment. His natural impulse might -indeed be vehement, and he frequently had to repeat to himself that -sage adage, "The least said is soonest mended," before he could get -himself to refrain from saying a word to the clerk, Mr. Bacon, except -that two men had come to him the night before with a cock-and-a-bull -story about a highway robbery of which he did not believe a word, and -they were to come again that morning, when he should sift them -thoroughly.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now it is wonderful how the very least bits of art will frequently -betray the artist. Mr. Wittingham merely said, "Two men," which led -his clerk, Mr. Bacon, to suppose that he had never seen either of the -two men before; but when Mr. Beauchamp appeared, in company with Ned -Hayward, and the clerk recollected that the magistrate had very -frequently wondered in his presence, who Mr. Beauchamp could be, and -had directed him to make every sort of inquiry, he naturally said to -himself, "Ha, ha, Wittingham has got something that he wishes to -conceal; if not, why didn't he say at once that Beauchamp was one of -the two. There's a screw loose somewhere, that's clear."</p> - -<p class="normal">On Ned Hayward the clerk's small eyes fixed with a keen, inquisitive, -and marvelling glance, as with his gay dashing air, half military, -half sporting, firm and yet light, measured and yet easy, he advanced -into the room and approached the table. It was a sort of animal that -Mr. Bacon had never seen in his life before, and he looked just like a -young pig when it sees a stagecoach dash by, standing firm for a -minute, but ready in an instant to toss up its snout, curl up its -tail, and caper off with a squeak as fast as it can go.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Mr. Witherington," said Ned Hayward, perfectly aware that -nothing so much provokes a pompous man as mistaking his name, "here we -are according to appointment, and doubtless you are ready to take our -depositions, Mr. Witherington."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wittingham, Sir," said the magistrate, impressively, laying a strong -emphasis on each syllable, "I beg you'll give me my own name, and -nobody else's."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay, Whittington," said Ned Hayward, with the utmost composure, "I -forgot; I knew it was some absurd name in an old ballad or story, and -confounded you somehow or other with the man in 'Chevy Chase' who</p> -<pre> - When his legs were smitten off, - He fought upon his stumps. -</pre> - -<p class="continue">But I remember now, you're the son of the Lord Mayor of London, the -cat-man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Sir, no," exclaimed Mr. Wittingham, whose face had turned purple -with rage, "I am not his son, and you must be a fool to think so, for -he died two hundred years ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I know nothing of history," said Ned Hayward, laughing, "and -besides, I dare say it's all a fable."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This gentleman's name is Wittingham, Sir," said the clerk, "W-I-T-wit, -T-I-N-G-ting, H-A-M ham, Wittingham."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, thank you, thank you, Sir," said the young gentleman, "I shan't -forget it now, '<i>Littera scripta manet</i>,' Mr. What's-your-name?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My name is Bacon, Sir," said the clerk, with a grunt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, very well, very well," replied Ned Hayward, "now to business. -Wittingham, Bacon, and Co., I shan't forget that; an excellent good -firm, especially when the junior partner is cut into rashers and well -roasted. We are here, Sir, to tender information upon oath, when it -can no longer be of any avail, which we tendered last night, when it -might have been of avail, in regard to an attempt at highway robbery -committed yesterday evening upon the persons of two ladies in this -neighbourhood, namely, Mrs. Clifford and her daughter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tendered last night, Sir!" exclaimed the clerk, in spite of a -tremendous nudge from Mr. Wittingham, "pray whom did you tender it -to?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To the right reverend gentleman on the bench," said Ned Hayward, with -a profound bow to the worthy magistrate; and then looking at him full -in the face with a significant smile, the young gentleman added, "he -refused to take our depositions on secret motives, or information of -his own, which as it was kept in the profound depth of his mind, I -will not pretend to penetrate."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham was in a state of most distressing perplexity. His -fears were a powder magazine, Ned Hayward's smile was a spark, and -there was a terrible explosion in his chest, which had nearly blown -the window out.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I--I--you see, Bacon," he whispered to the clerk, "I thought it was -all nonsense, I was sure it was all nonense--you may see by the -fellow's manner that it is so--Who'd attend to such stuff?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know, Sir," said the clerk, "magistrates are bound to take -informations of felonies tendered on oath; but we shall soon see who -he is; we'll swear him," and taking up a paper from the table he began -to write, lifting up his head after a moment and inquiring, "What is -your name and profession?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My name is Edward Hayward," answered our friend, "late captain in His -Majesty's 40th regiment, now unattached."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham's face grew blanker and blanker. Yamen's own could not -have looked a more russetty brown. He did not know how to interfere -with the clerk, or how to proceed himself; but at length, after sundry -hums and haws, he said, "I think we had better hear the whole story -first, and then take down the deposition if we should find it -necessary. If Mrs. Clifford was robbed, or attempted to be robbed, why -the devil doesn't Mrs. Clifford come to give me information herself? I -see no reason why we should suffer such accounts to be gone into by -deputy. The offence was against Mrs. Clifford, and we shall always be -ready to balance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The offence was against the law of the land, Sir," said Mr. -Beauchamp, stepping forward, "and we who witnessed the offence, and -prevented it from being carried further, now come forward to demand -that interference of justice which cannot be refused, without great -danger to those who deny it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," said Mr. Wittingham, "I am not going to deny it; let us -hear your story, and as you are one of the informers, be so good as to -favour us with your name, profession, &c."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My name, Sir, is Beauchamp," replied the gentleman he addressed, -"profession, I am sorry to say, I have none."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah," said the magistrate drily, but the clerk whispered sharply in -his ear: "He has two thousand pounds in the bank, paid in the day -before yesterday. Jenkins told me last night at the Free and Easy, so -it's all a mistake about his being--you know what."</p> - -<p class="normal">The clerk had a reverence for gentlemen who had two thousand pounds at -one time in a country bank--much greater reverence than for captains -of infantry unattached; and consequently he proceeded to take Mr. -Beauchamp's deposition first, with all due respect, notwithstanding -every thing Mr. Wittingham could do to embarrass his course of -operations. Then came Ned Hayward's turn, but our good friend thought -fit to be more serious when an oath had been administered, and -delivered his evidence with gravity and propriety. As soon, however, -as Mr. Wittingham began to meddle with the matter again, and to treat -the affair as one of little consequence, and not deserving much -consideration, the spirit of malicious fun seized upon Ned once more, -and he said with a mysterious air, "Sir, I beg you will give this your -most serious attention, for you cannot yet tell what parties may be -implicated. In giving our testimony of course we speak to facts alone. -I have strictly confined myself to what I saw, and have not even -mentioned one circumstance of which I have even a shade of doubt; but -without interfering with your business, Mr. Skittington--for I never -take another man's trade upon me--yet I shall certainly feel myself -called upon to investigate quietly, and by all lawful means, the whole -particulars of this business. That a felony has been committed there -can be no doubt; two pistols were fired at me with intent to take my -life, or do me some grievous bodily harm; one ball went through my -hair, and the matter is a very grave one, which may probably bring -some respectable persons into a noose under a gallows. Look to it, -look to it, Mr. Whittington, for I shall certainly look to it myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Sir, well, do any thing you please," said the magistrate, "I -will do my duty without being tutored by you. I consider your conduct -very disrespectful and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">But ere he could finish the sentence the door of the justice-room -opened, and a young man entered dressed in the garb of a gentleman. -Mr. Wittingham's face turned as pale as death, and Ned Hayward fixed -his eyes for an instant--a single instant--upon the countenance of the -new comer. It was by no means a prepossessing one, and the expression -was not improved by a black handkerchief being tied over one eye, and -hiding part of the nose and cheek. The young officer instantly -withdrew his eyes, and fixed them sternly on the ground. "This is too -impudent," he thought, and there was a momentary hesitation in his -mind as to whether he should not at once point out the intruder as the -chief offender in the acts lately under discussion. Good-nature, -however prevailed, and while Henry Wittingham advanced straight to his -father's side, and with a look of bold fierceness whispered a word in -his ear, Ned Hayward turned to the door, saying, "Come, Beauchamp, our -business here is over, and I must go up to Sir John Slingsby's."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp followed him, after giving a sharp glance at Henry -Wittingham, and at the door of the house they saw a horse standing -which seemed to have been ridden hard.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER IX.</h4> -<h5>In which a very young Actor makes an unexpected Appearance on -the Scene.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Beauchamp was sitting alone in the little room of the inn about -five hours after Ned Hayward had left him. The day had been very warm -for the season of the year, and though he had taken his walk as usual -in the most shady and pensive places he could discover, he had found -it oppressive, and had returned sooner than he ordinarily did. Mr. -Groomber, worthy Mr. Groomber, the landlord of the White Hart, had -perceived his return through the glass-doors of the bar, and had -rolled in to tell him, as a piece of news, that the post-boy who had -driven Mrs. and Miss Clifford had been, as he termed it, "had up" -before Mr. Wittingham and examined, but had been speedily dismissed, -he having sworn most valorously that he could not identify any of the -persons concerned in stopping the chaise on the preceding night.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Beauchamp merely replied, "I thought so," and taking up a book, -gave quiet intimation that he wished to be alone. As soon as the host -had retired, however, he suffered the open volume to drop upon his -knee, and gave himself up to thought, apparently of not the most -cheerful kind, for the broad open brow became somewhat contracted, the -fine dark eyes fixed upon one particular spot on the floor, the lip -assumed a melancholy, even a cynical expression, and without moving -limb or feature, he remained for at least a quarter of an hour in -meditation most profound.</p> - -<p class="normal">For my own part I do not see what business men have to think at all. -If it be of the past, can they recall it? If it be of the future, can -they govern it? No, no, and the present is for action, not for -meditation. It was very foolish of Mr. Beauchamp to think, but yet he -did so, and profoundly. But of what were his thoughts? I cannot tell. -Some I know, some I do not know; or rather like an intercepted letter, -the actual course of his meditation was plain enough, written in clear -and forcible lines, but the wide world of circumstances to which it -referred, its relations with his fate, with his past history, with his -present condition, with his future prospects, were all in darkness.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is in vain," he said to himself, "all in vain! Peace, happiness, -tranquillity--where do they dwell? Are they the mere phantasms of -man's ever-building imaginations? creations of fancy to satisfy the -craving need of the soul? And yet some men can obtain them. This very -Captain Hayward, he seems at least as well contented, as well -satisfied with himself, the world, and all the world gives, as it is -possible to conceive. But it is not so--it cannot be so. There is a -black spot somewhere, I am sure--some bitter memory, some disappointed -hope, some aspiration ever desired. He owned he dared not venture to -love--is not that to be in a continued chain, to bear a fetter about -one? and yet he seemed contented with such a fate. It is the -regulation of our desires that makes us happy, the bounding them to -our means--ay, with those who have no already existing cause for -sorrow, but the cup of our fate is ever open for each passing hand to -drop a poison into it, and once there, it pervades the whole--the -whole? by every drop down to the very dregs, turning the sweetness and -the spirit of the wine of life to bitterness and death. What is it -that I want that can make existence pleasant? Wealth, health, a mind -carefully trained and furnished with the keys to every door of mental -enjoyment--with love for my fellow-creatures, good will to all men, I -have all--surely all; but, alas! I have memory too, and like the -pillar of the cloud, it sometimes follows me, darkening the past, -sometimes goes before me, obscuring the future. Yet this is -very weak. An effort of the mind--the mind I have vainly thought so -strong--should surely suffice to cast off the load. I have tried -occupation, calm enjoyments, fair scenes, tranquil pleasures, peaceful -amusements. Perhaps in a more fiery and eager course, in active, -energetic pursuits in passions that absorb all the feelings, and wrap -the soul in their own mantle, I may find forgetfulness. In all that I -have hitherto done--there have been long intervals--open gates for -bitter memory to enter, and the very nature of my chosen objects has -invited her. Oh, yes, there must be such a thing as happiness: that -girl's fair joyous face, her smile teeming with radiance, told me so. -But I will not think of her. She is too bright, and fair, and happy to -be made a partner in so hazardous a speculation as mine. I will go -away from this place: it has given my mind some little repose, and I -could have made a friend of that light, good-humoured Hayward if he -would have let me--but he has left me too--all things leave me, I -think. Well, he is gone, and I will go too--'tis not worth while -lingering longer."</p> - -<p class="normal">At this point of his meditations some horses passed the window, and -shadows darkened the room; but Beauchamp took no notice, till he heard -a voice which had become somewhat familiar to him during the last -eighteen hours, exclaiming, "Ostler, ostler!" and in a moment after -Ned Hayward was in the room again, but not alone. He was followed by -the portly figure of Sir John Slingsby, dressed in riding costume, and -though somewhat dusty, and certainly very round and heavy, yet bearing -that undefinable and almost ineffaceable look of a gentleman which not -even oddities and excesses had been able to wipe out.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward's words were few and soon spoken: "Mr. Beauchamp, Sir John -Slingsby; Sir John, Mr. Beauchamp," were all he said, but the old -baronet soon took up the conversation, shaking his new acquaintance -warmly by the hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Glad to see you, Mr. Beauchamp, very glad to see you. I find my -family are under a great obligation to you--that is to say, my sister -Harriet, Mrs. Clifford. Devilish impudent thing, by Jove, for those -fellows to attack a carriage at that time of the evening, and very -lucky you happened to be there, for my friend Ned Hayward here--though -he has a notion of tactics, haven't you, Ned?--and is a stout -fellow--could hardly have managed three of them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I look upon myself as very fortunate, Sir John," replied Mr. -Beauchamp, "in having taken my evening walk in that direction; but at -the same time, it is but fair to acknowledge that my share in the -rescue of your sister and her daughter was but small. I only kept one -man in play, while Captain Hayward had to contend with two."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All the same! all the same, my dear Sir," said the baronet; "the -reserve shares all the glory of a battle even if it does not pull a -trigger. The ladies, however, are exceedingly obliged to you--very -good girls both of them--not that they have commissioned me to express -their thanks, far from it, for they are particularly anxious to do so -themselves if you will give them the opportunity; and therefore they -have begged me to ask if you would favour us by your company at dinner -to-day, and to say that they will be devilish sorry if any previous -engagement should prevent you, though they calculate upon to-morrow, -if not to-day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am quite an anchorite here, Sir John," answered Mr. Beauchamp, with -a grave smile; but before he could finish his sentence, the old -baronet, thinking it was the commencement of an excuse, hastened to -stop it, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite a quiet dinner, I assure you--all as grave and proper as -possible; no drinking, no laughing, no fun--all upon our good -behaviour. There will be nobody but you, Ned Hayward, I, and the -doctor there; Harriet, Mary, and my girl--who, by the way, says she -knows you--has seen you twice at the good doctor's--Doctor Miles's."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Slingsby," said Beauchamp. "I -was only about to answer you just now, Sir John, that I am quite an -anchorite here, and therefore not likely to have many invitations to -dinner. As I have not much cultivated the people of the place, they -have not much cultivated me; and I believe they look upon me as a -somewhat suspicious character, especially our friend Mr. Wittingham, -who I find has been very curious in his inquiries as to whether I pay -my bills, and where I go to when I walk out."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wittingham's an old fool!" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, "and like all -other old fools, he thinks himself the wisest man in the world. I -wonder what the lord-lieutenant could be dreaming of when he put him -in the commission of the peace--a man no more fit for it than my -horsewhip. I'll pay him for it all--I'll pay him--ask him to -dinner--make him beastly drunk, and lodge him for the night in a -horse-trough."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope not this evening, Sir John," said Beauchamp, with a smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh dear no," replied the baronet, with a look of rueful fear, "all -very prim to-night--all as grave as judges--quite proper and discreet -while my sister Harriet is with us--an archdeacon's widow, you know--a -dean's, after all--though he was only dean for a couple of months--a -very good man indeed, but exceedingly proper, terribly proper: the -very sound of a cork frightened him out of his wits. I do believe he -fancied that port and Madeira are sent over in decanters, and claret -in jugs with handles. However, you'll come, that's settled: half-past -five, old-fashioned hours, gives plenty of time after dinner. But now -that's no use," added the baronet, with a sigh, "we might as well dine -at seven now--no use of a long evening. However, the girls will give -us a song, or music of some kind, and perhaps we can make up a rubber -at long whist, which will make us sleep as sound as dormice. No sin in -that--no, Ned."</p> - -<p class="normal">"None in the world, Sir John," answered Ned Hayward, "but a great deal -of dulness. I never could make out in my life how men, with their wits -about them, could spend hours throwing bits of painted pasteboard in a -particular order for shillings and sixpences."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Just as reasonable as standing up for hours to be showed for -shillings and sixpences," answered Sir John Slingsby, "and both you -and I have played at that, you dog. Every thing is folly if you take -it in the abstract--love, war, wine, ambition; and depend upon it, -Ned, the lightest follies are the best--isn't it so, Mr. Beauchamp?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is indeed some truth in what you say, Sir John," replied -Beauchamp, with a thoughtful smile; "and I believe amusing follies are -better than serious ones--at least I begin to think so now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To be sure, to be sure," answered Sir John Slingsby; "man was made -for fun and not for sadness. It's a very nice world if people would -let it be so. Oh, we'll show you some sport, Mr. Beauchamp, before we -have done with you; but to-day you know we'll all be very proper--very -good boys indeed--and then when the cat's away the mice will play. Ha! -ha! ha! At half-past five, you know, and in the meantime, Ned and I -will ride off and abuse old Wittingham. I'll give him a pretty -lecture."</p> - -<p class="normal">Good Sir John was disappointed however; his horses, his groom, and his -bulky person had all been seen from the windows of Mr. Wittingham's -house as he rode into the town with Ned Hayward, and as a matter of -course, Mr. Wittingham was over the hills and far away before the -visit to Mr. Beauchamp was concluded.</p> - -<p class="normal">When Sir John and Ned Hayward left him, Beauchamp remained for some -minutes with a smile upon his countenance--a meditative--nay, a -melancholy smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So fleet our resolutions," he said to himself, "so fade away our -schemes and purposes. Who can say in this life what he will do and -what he will not do the next day--nay, the next minute? Which is the -happiest after all, the man who struggles with fate and circumstance, -and strives to perform the impracticable task of ruling them, or he -who, like a light thing upon the waters, suffers himself to be carried -easily down the current, whirling round with every eddy, resting -quietly in the still pool, or dashing gaily down the rapids? Heaven -knows, but at all events, fate has shown herself so resolute to take -my affairs into her own hands, that I will not try to resist her. I -will indulge every whim, and leave fortune to settle the result. I may -as well purchase that property: it is as good an investment as any -other, I dare say, and if not, it does not much signify. I will write -to my agent to transmit the money to-day."</p> - -<p class="normal">With this resolution he sat down, and had soon despatched a few lines, -which he carried to the post himself; then strolled out of the town -for an hour, and then returned to dress, ordering a post-chaise for -Tarningham House.</p> - -<p class="normal">How different are the sensations with which one goes out to dinner at -different times--ay, even when it is to the house of a new -acquaintance, where we have little means of judging previously whether -our day will be pleasant or unpleasant, joyous or sad. As there must -be more than one party to each compact, and as the age and its object -act and react upon each other, so the qualities of each have their -share in the effect upon either, and the mood of the visitor has at -least as much to do with the impression that he receives as the mood -of the host. Wonderfully trite, is it not, reader? It has been said a -thousand times before, but it will not do you the least harm to have -it repeated, especially as I wish you clearly to understand the mood -in which Mr. Beauchamp went, for the first time, to the house of Sir -John Slingsby. It was then in that of an indifferent mood of which I -have shown some indications, by describing what was passing in his -mind after the baronet and Ned Hayward left him. There are, however, -various sorts of indifferent moods; there is the gay indifferent, -which is very commonly called, devil-me-carish-ness; then there is the -impertinent indifference, with a dash of persiflage in it, just to -take off the chili--as men put brandy into soda-water--which very -empty and conceited men assume to give them an air of that superiority -to which they are entitled by no mental quality. Then there is the -indifference of despair, and the indifference of satiety. But none of -these was the exact sort of indifference which Mr. Beauchamp felt, or -thought he felt. It was a grave indifference, springing from a sort of -morbid conviction that the happiness or unhappiness of man is not at -all in his own hands, or that if it be at all so, it is only at his -outset in life, and that the very first step so affects the whole -course of after events, as to place the control over them totally -beyond his own power. It is a bad philosophy, a very unsafe, untrue, -unwise philosophy, and a great author has made it the philosophy of -the devil:</p> -<pre> - - Thus we - In our first choice are ever free; - Choose, and the right of choice is o'er, - We who were free, are free no more. -</pre> - -<p class="normal"> -So says Göthe, according to Auster's beautiful translation, and I -think it much better to give that translation which every body can -understand, than the original which one half of my readers cannot, and -which would not be a bit better if they could.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now Mr. Beauchamp was not the devil, or any thing the least like it, -but yet this philosophy had been driven into him by his own previous -history, and though he often resisted its influence, and strove to -struggle with it, and by new acts to shape a new fate, yet he had been -so often disappointed in the attempt, he had found every course, -indeed, so constantly lead to the same result, that the philosophy -returned as soon as the effort was over, and he looked upon almost -every event with indifference, as destined to end in one manner, and -that not a pleasant one.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, he could enjoy for the time: there was no man by nature -better fitted for enjoyment. He had a fondness for every thing that -was great and beautiful; for every thing that was good and noble; he -loved flowers, and birds, and music, and the fair face of nature. His -breast was full of harmonies, but unfortunately the tones were never -prolonged; to borrow a simile from the musical instrument, there was a -damper that fell almost as soon as the chord was struck, and the -sound, sweet as it might be, ceased before the music was complete.</p> - -<p class="normal">In driving along, however, the post-boy went somewhat slowly, and with -a peculiarly irritating jog in the saddle, which would have sadly -disturbed a person of a less indifferent mind--there was plenty of -room for pleasant observation if not reflection. The road ran through -wooded groves, and often turned along the bank of the stream. At times -it mounted over a hill-side, and showed beyond a rich and leafy -foreground, the wide extended landscape, undulating away towards the -horizon, with the lines of wood and slope beautifully marked in the -aerial perspective, and filling the mind with vague imaginations of -things that the eye could not define. It dipped down into a valley -too, and passed through a quiet, peaceful little village, with a group -of tall silver poplars before the church, and a congregation of fine -old beech trees around the rectory. The whole aspect of the place was -home tranquillity; that of a purely English village under the most -favourable circumstances. Cleanliness, neatness, rustic ornament, an -air of comfort, a cheerful openness, a look of healthfulness. How -different from the villages one sometimes sees, alas! in every -country; but less in England than anywhere else in the wide world, the -abodes of fever, dirt, penury, wretchedness.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he passed the rectory, with its smooth, well-mown lawn, and green -gates, Beauchamp put his head to the carriage-window and looked out. -He expected to see, perhaps, a neat one-horse chaise at the door, and -a sleek, well-fed beast to draw it; but there was nothing of the kind -there, and he remarked the traces of a pair of wheels from the gates -on the road before him. Half a mile further were the gates of Sir John -Slingsby's park. It cannot be said that they were in very good order, -the iron-work wanted painting sadly, one or two of the bars had got a -sad twist, the columns of stone-work to which they were fixed needed -pointing, if not more solid repairs. The lodge had all the shutters -up, and the post-boy had to get down and open the gates.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp sighed, not because he took any great interest in the place -or the people it contained, but because the aspect of desolation--of -the decay of man's works--especially from neglect, is well worth a -sigh. The drive through the park, however, was delightful. Old trees -were all around, glorious old trees, those ever-growing monuments of -the past, those silent leafy chroniclers of ages gone. Who planted -them, who nourished, who protected them? what times have they seen, -what deeds have they witnessed, what storms have passed over them, -what sunshine have they drunk, what sorrows, and what joys have -visited the generations of man, since first they sprang up from the -small seed till now, when they stretch out their giant arms to shelter -the remote posterity of those whom they have seen flourish and pass -away? Who can wander among old trees, and not ask such questions, ay, -and a thousand more.</p> - -<p class="normal">The sight was pleasant to Mr. Beauchamp, it had a serious yet pleasing -effect upon his mind, and when the chaise drew up at the door of -Tarningham House, he felt more disposed than before to enjoy the -society within, whatever it might be.</p> - -<p class="normal">The outer door was open, the fat butler threw open pompously the two -glass doors within, a couple of round footmen, whose lineaments were -full of ale, flanked the hall on either side, and thus Mr. Beauchamp -was marshalled to the drawing-room, which he entered with his calm and -dignified air, not in the slightest degree agitated, although he was -well aware that two very pretty faces were most likely looking for his -arrival.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir John Slingsby in the blue coat, the white waistcoat, the black -breeches and stockings, with the rubicund countenance and white hair, -advanced at once to receive him, and presented him to Mrs. Clifford -and her daughter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This young lady you already know, Mr. Beauchamp," he said, pointing -to his daughter, "so I shan't introduce you here."</p> - -<p class="normal">But that gentleman shook hands with Miss Slingsby first, proving that -their acquaintance, however short, had made some steps towards -friendship.</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella was a little fluttered in her manner, why, she scarcely knew -herself, and the colour grew a little deeper in her cheek, and her -smile wavered, as if she would fain have seemed not too well pleased. -All this, however, did not at all take from her beauty, for as a fair -scene is never lovelier than when the shadows of drifting clouds are -passing over it, so a pretty face is never prettier than under the -influence of slight emotions.</p> - -<p class="normal">Miss Slingsby and Mary Clifford were standing both together, so that -Beauchamp had both those sweet faces before him at once. Isabella was -as fair as a lily with eyes of a deep blue, and warm brown hair, -neither light nor dark, clustering richly round her brow and cheek in -wilful curls that would have their own way. Mary Clifford was darker -in complexion, with the hair braided on her brow, there was deep but -gentle thought in her dark eyes, and though the short chiselled upper -lip could at times bear a joyous smile enough, yet the general -expression was grave though not melancholy.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp was a serious man, of a calm, quiet temper, somewhat -saddened by various events which had befallen him, but which of those -two faces, reader, think you he admired the most? The gay one, to be -sure, the one the least like himself. So it is wisely ordained by -nature, and it is the force of circumstances alone that ever makes us -choose a being precisely similar to ourselves to be our companion -through existence. Two tones, exactly the same, even upon different -instruments produce unison not harmony, and so it is throughout all -nature.</p> - -<p class="normal">After a few words to Isabella, Mr. Beauchamp turned again to Mrs. -Clifford, who at once spoke of their adventure of the night before, -and thanked him for his kind assistance. Beauchamp said all that -courtesy required, and said it gracefully and well. He expressed the -pleasure that he felt to see that neither of the ladies had suffered -from the fear or agitation they had undergone, and expressed great -satisfaction at having been near the spot at the moment the attack was -made.</p> - -<p class="normal">While they were speaking, Sir John Slingsby had twice taken out his -watch--it was a large one, hanging by a thick gold chain, and Mr. -Beauchamp, thinking that he divined the cause of his disquiet, -observed with a smile,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dr. Miles must be here, I think, for judging by small signs, such as -the traces of wheels and an open gate, I imagine that he had left home -before I passed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes, he is here," answered Sir John Slingsby, "he has been here -ten minutes, but the old boy, who is as neat in his person as in his -ideas, had got a little dust upon his black coat, and is gone to brush -it off and wash his hands. That open chaise of his costs him more time -in washing and brushing, than writing his sermons; but I can't think -what has become of that fellow, Ned Hayward. The dog went out two -hours ago for a walk through the park up to the moor, and I suppose -'thoughtless Ned,' as we used to call him, has forgotten that we dine -at half-past five. Well, we won't wait for him; as soon as the doctor -comes we will order dinner, and fine him a bumper for being late."</p> - -<p class="normal">While he was speaking, Dr. Miles, the clergyman of the village through -which Beauchamp had passed, entered the room, and shook him warmly by -the hand. He was a tall, spare man, with a look of florid health in -his countenance, and snow-white hair; his face was certainly not -handsome, and there was a grave and somewhat stern expression in it, -but yet it was pleasing, especially when he smiled, which, to say the -truth, was not often. It may seem a contradiction in terms to say that -he laughed oftener than he smiled, yet so it was, for his laugh was -not always good-humoured, especially in the house of Sir John -Slingsby. There was from time to time, something bitter and cynical in -it, and generally found vent when any thing was said, the folly of -which he thought exceeded the wickedness. He was one of the few men of -perfect respectability who was a constant visitor at Tarningham House; -but the truth was, that he was the rector of Sir John Slingsby's -parish. Now no consideration of tithes, perquisites, good dinners, -comforts, and conveniences, would have induced Dr. Miles to do any -thing that he thought wrong, but he argued in this manner:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir John Slingsby is an old fool, and one who is likely to get worse -instead of better, if nobody of more rational views, higher feelings, -and more reasonable pursuits takes any notice of him. Now I, from my -position, am bound to do the best I can to bring him to a better state -of mind. I may effect something in this way, by seeing him frequently -at all events, I can do much to prevent his becoming worse; my -presence is some check upon these people, and even if it does little -good to the father, there is that sweet, dear, amiable girl, who needs -some support and comfort in her unpleasant situation."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such were some of the considerations upon which Dr. Miles acted. There -were many more indeed, but these are enough for my purpose. He shook -Beauchamp warmly by the hand, as we have seen, and seemed to be more -intimate with him than any body in the room, taking him aside, and -speaking to him for a moment or two in private, while Sir John -Slingsby rang the bell, and ordered dinner without waiting for Captain -Hayward.</p> - -<p class="normal">"William Slack, Sir John, has seen him," said the butler, "coming down -the long avenue with something in his arms--he thinks it's a fawn."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then, he'll be here soon," said the master of the mansion, -"serve dinner, serve dinner, by Jove, I won't wait. Devil take the -fellow, the ensign shouldn't keep his colonel waiting. It's not -respectful. I'll fine him two bumpers if the soup's off before he -makes his appearance."</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meantime the first words of Dr. Miles to Mr. Beauchamp were, "I -have made the inquiries, my dear Sir, according to your request, and -it is well worth the money. It will return they say four per cent. -clear, which in these times is well enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have already determined upon it," said Beauchamp, "and have written -to London about it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay," said the worthy doctor, "just like all the rest of the -world, my young friend, asking for advice, and acting without it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not exactly," answered Beauchamp, "you told me before what you -thought upon the subject, and I knew you were not one to express an -opinion except upon good grounds. The only question is now what lawyer -I can employ here to arrange minor matters. The more important must, -of course, be referred to my solicitors in London."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We have no great choice," replied Dr. Miles, "there are but two in -Tarningham, thank God. The one is a Mr. Wharton, the other a Mr. -Bacon, neither of them particularly excellent specimens of humanity; -but in the one the body is better than the mind, in the other the mind -better than the body."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Probably I should like the latter best," answered Beauchamp, "but -pray, my dear doctor, give me a somewhat clearer knowledge of these -two gentlemen for my guidance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then though I do not love in general to say aught in -disparagement of my neighbours behind their backs," Dr. Miles replied, -"I must, I suppose, be more definite. Mr. Wharton is a quiet, silent -man, gentlemanlike in appearance and in manners, cautious, plausible, -and affecting friendship for his clients. I have never known him set -the poor by the ears for the sake of small gains, or promote -dissensions amongst farmers in order to make by a law-suit. On the -contrary, I have heard him dissuade from legal proceedings, and say -that quarrels are very foolish things."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A good sort of person," said Beauchamp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hear the other side, my dear Sir," rejoined the doctor, "such game as -I have been speaking of is too small for him. He was once poor; he is -now very rich. I have rarely heard of his having a client who somehow -did not ruin himself; and although I do not by any means intend to say -that I have been able to trace Mr. Wharton's hand in their -destruction, certain it is that the bulk of the property--at least a -large share of what they squandered or lost has found its way into his -possession. I have seen him always ready to smooth men's way to -destruction, to lend money, to encourage extravagance, to lull -apprehension, to embarrass efforts at retrenchment, and then when the -beast was in the toils, to despatch it and take his share. No mercy -then when ruin is inevitable; the lawyer must be paid, and must be -paid first."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now for Mr. Bac on?" said Beauchamp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why he is simply a vulgar little man," answered the clergyman, -"coarse in manners and in person: cunning and stolid, but with a -competent knowledge of law; keen at finding out faults and flaws. His -practice is in an inferior line to the other's, but he is at all -events safer, and I believe more honest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How do you mean, cunning and stolid?" asked Beauchamp, "those two -qualities would seem to me incompatible."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh dear no," replied Dr. Miles; but before he could explain, the -butler announced dinner, and as Sir John gave his arm to Mrs. -Clifford, Beauchamp advanced towards Isabella. The doors were thrown -wide open, and the party were issuing forth to cross the vestibule to -the dining-room, when suddenly Sir John and his sister halted, -encountered by an apparition which certainly was unexpected in the -form that it assumed. In fact they had not taken two steps out of the -drawing-room ere the glass doors were flung open, and Ned Hayward -stood before them as unlike the Ned Hayward I first presented to the -reader as possible. His coat was covered with a dull whitish gray -powder, his linen soiled, and apparently singed, his hands and face as -black as soot, his glossy brown hair rugged and burnt, no hat upon his -head, and in his arms a very pretty boy of about two years old, or a -little more perhaps, on whose face were evident marks of recent tears, -though he seemed now pacified, and was staring about with large eyes -at the various objects in the large house to which he was just -introduced.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why Ned, Ned, Ned, what in the mischief's name has happened to you?" -exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, "have you all at once become a poor young -man with a small family of young children?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, my dear Sir," answered Ned Hayward in a hurried tone, "but if you -have any women in the house I will give this little fellow into their -care and tell you all about it in a few minutes. Hush, my little man, -hush. We are all friends: we will take care of you. Now don't cry -again: no harm shall happen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Women! to be sure!" cried Sir John, "call the housekeeper, one of you -rascals. Women! Hang it, Ned, do you think I could live in a house -without women? A bottle of claret is not more necessary to my -existence than the sight of a cap and a petticoat flying about the -house--in the distance, Ned, in the distance! No brooms and dust-pans -too near me; but in a discreet position, far enough off yet visible; -woman is the sunshine of a house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give him to me, Captain Hayward," said Miss Clifford, holding out her -arms for the boy. "He will be quiet with me, I am sure. Won't you, my -poor little fellow?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The child gazed at her strangely as she took him, letting go Dr. -Miles's arm to do so; but meeting the sweet smile that lighted up her -beautiful face, he put his little arms round her neck the next moment, -and hid his large blue eyes upon her shoulder. She held him kindly -there, speaking a few gentle words to him, while Ned Hayward looking -round the party addressed himself to the worthy clergyman, inquiring, -"You are the rector of this parish, Sir, I think?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Miles made a stiff bow, not prepossessed in favour of any of Sir -John Slingsby's old friends, and answered as briefly as possible, "I -am, Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then can you tell me," asked the young gentleman, eagerly, "if there -was any woman up at the cottage on the moor?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Miles started, and replied with a look of much greater interest, -"No, Sir, no. What has happened? Why do you ask? What cottage do you -mean? There are three."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I mean the cottage of a man called Gimlet," answered Ned Hayward. "I -saw some women's clothes--gowns and things; and I thought there might -be a woman there, that's all. There was none then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There was one six months ago," replied the clergyman, in a very grave -tone, "as lovely a creature as ever was seen, but she lies in my -churchyard, poor thing. She is at peace."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God," said Ned Hayward, in a tone of relief. "Ah, here comes -somebody for the child. My good lady, will you have the kindness to -take good care of this little fellow. See that he is not burnt or -hurt, and let him have some bread-and-milk, or things that children -eat--I don't know very well what they are, but I dare say you do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, by Jove that she does!" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, "she feeds -half the children in the parish. You take good care of him, Mrs. -Hope--and now, Ned," he continued, turning from the housekeeper to his -guest, "what the devil's the meaning of all this?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will tell you by and by, Sir John," answered Captain Hayward. "Pray -go to dinner and I will be down directly. Many apologies for being -late; but it was not to be helped. I will not be ten minutes; but do -not let me detain you--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what is it all about? What has happened? Who the deuce is the -child?" exclaimed Sir John. "Do you think either men or women can eat -soup or digest fish with their stomachs full of curiosity?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By and by, Sir John, by and by," said Ned Hayward, making towards the -stairs. "You shall have the whole story for dessert. At present I am -dirty, and the dinner's waiting. It will get cold, and your curiosity -keep hot."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying he left them, and the rest of the party proceeded to -dinner.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER X.</h4> -<h5>The Poacher's Cottage.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">If you quit the high-road from Tarningham on the right-hand side by -that little sandy path, just a hundred yards on the other side of the -stone pump, equidistant from it and the mile-stone which marks on the -hither side, five miles and a half from Tarningham, and walk straight -on, it leads you over the moor, and through the midst of scenery very -common in England, not much loved by ordinary ramblers, but which for -me and a few others has a peculiar and almost indescribable charm. The -ground is broken, undulated, full of deep sand-pits and holes, -frequently covered with gorge and heath, spotted occasionally with -self-sown shrubs, a stunted hawthorn here and there, two or three -melancholy firs, gathered together on the top of a mound, like a party -of weary watchers trying to console each other by close companionship, -while from time to time a few light birches, with their quivering -leaves, and thin, graceful arms, and ragged coats of silver and brown, -are seen hanging over the edge of a bank, or decorating the side of a -hollow. If you dip down into one of the low dells, a sensation of -hermit-like solitude comes upon you. You believe that there at least -you may be,</p> - -<pre> - The world forgetting, by the world forgot; -</pre> - -<p class="continue">and you feel an irresistible desire to sit down at the foot of this -shrub, or that, where the roots, like a well-governed state, serve to -keep together in close union, the light and incoherent materials that -sustain them, and there to commune with your own thoughts in the -silent presence of Nature. If you mount one of the little hills, the -scene and the sensation is very different, The solitude is as deep as -striking; no living thing is to be seen, unless it be a wild curlew, -with its thin arched wings, whirling away with a shrill cry in the -enjoyment of its own loneliness; but there is an expansion, a -grandeur, a strange sublimity in the extent of waste, with the long -lines waving off in different hues like the billows of the ocean, -first yellow sand, and green short turf, then a brown mass, where the -sight loses its distinctness, then perhaps a gleam of water, then a -blue line, deep as indigo, where the azure air and the black shade -mingle together under some threatening cloud; then long undulations of -purple, fainter and fainter, till who shall say where earth ends and -sky begins. The bleakness, the stillness, the solitariness, the varied -colouring, the vast extent, the very monotony of the forms mingle -together in a whole that has not less grandeur in it than the highest -mountain that ever raised its proud brow above its brother giants.</p> - -<p class="normal">I have said you would have to go straight on, but what I said was -quite untrue, and it is wonderful how many little falsehoods slip -out of the innocent and unconscious pen, either in the haste of -writing--which is very pardonable--or for the sake of a little -graceful turn, a neat expression, or a pretty figure, which is not so -small a fault. I do not believe there were ever ten sentences written -by poet, historian, or romance-writer, in ancient or modern times, -that had not some lie in them, direct or implied. I stand -self-convicted. It is not true that you would have to go -straightforward, for if you did you would walk into a pond, and -moreover, might never chance to get out again; for what between rushes -and reeds, and weeds and water-lilies, to say nothing of sundry deep -holes at the bottom, there is every risk that you would get your feet -entangled, and plunge headforemost into a place where you could -neither swim or disengage yourself. No, the path does not go -straightforward. Of all man's circuitous ways, and every one who -knows the human heart, is well aware that it is too fond of crooked -paths ever to pursue a straightforward course in any thing--of all -man's circuitous ways, I say, there never was one more serpentine or -meandering than that which leads from the high-road upon the moor. -First it turns round that pond I have mentioned, then it glides about -the base of a little hill, then it forces its way in a slanting -direction, through a bank of sand, then it turns aside from a deep -pit, then it respectfully passes at a little distance from a tumulus, -where sleep the ashes of the forgotten brave; and even when it gets -upon the flat green turf, it twists about like a great snake, giving -sad indications of man's vagabond fancies that lead him hither and -thither, without rhyme or reason, wherever he may be going, and -whatever may be the object before him.</p> - -<p class="normal">But after all, why should he not be thus led? why should be not follow -these fancies? Life's but a walk over a moor, and the wild-flowers -that grow upon our path are too few not to gather them when they come -within sight, even though it cost us a step or two aside. It's all in -the day's journey, and we shall get home at last.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet it is curious to consider all these various bends and turnings in -any little foot-way such as that we are now following. There is very -often a reason for that which seems to us to be the effects of mere -caprice. Now why did the fellow who first beat this road with his -wandering foot, turn away here to the right, when it is as evident as -the sun at noonday (that's to say in fine weather), that his object -was to pass straight between those two little hillocks before us? Oh, -I see, the grass is very green there; there is either some little -spring, or else the ground is soft and marshy in wet weather, and so -he went round to avoid it. But if he did so, why did he not keep to -the right of the hillock, that one with the hawthorn upon it, that is -now in flower, scenting the solitary air with a perfume that no art -could ever extract? Could it be to take a look at that wide view over -the tall, magnificent trees of the park, with the wide-spread country -beyond, and the little tower of Tarningham church, rising up between -those tall silver poplars? Perhaps it might be so; for there is an -inherent sense of the picturesque in the breast of most men, which, -unlike any acquired taste, grows and refines, and becomes stronger and -more overpowering the more it is indulged, and the more opportunities -of indulgence that it has. It is perhaps the only thing of which it -can be truly said that "increase of appetite grows by that it feeds -on." And it is a beautiful scene, too, which might well temper a -little out of the way. As to the rest it is clear enough, that when he -had got there--the first wanderer over the moor I mean--he was obliged -to turn away to the right, in order to come into the proper direction -again, so that here are four of his deviations completely accounted -for, and indeed, dear reader, I cannot help thinking, that if we were -once or twice in life to examine curiously the motives of our own -actions, or even of others, taking care to be impartial in both cases, -we should find cause to cast away our critical spirit, and to believe -that there are very often good and rational reasons for a turn to the -right or a turn to the left, which we have been inclined to blame, -simply because we did not perceive what those reasons were. Oh, -charity, charity, rightly understood in thy largest and holiest sense, -what a beautiful thing thou art; and did men but practise thee, how -often should we be spared the crime and folly of condemning unwisely -and unjustly.</p> - -<p class="normal">But to return to my path: upon my life, after having regained the -direction, the fellow has followed it straight on for more than a -quarter of a mile. It is wonderful, it is marvellous! I never saw such -a thing before! But, nevertheless, it is true that there was nothing -either to attract or drive him to one side or the other; and then, as -if to make up for lost time, what zig-zags he takes afterwards! Round -that clump of firs, under that bank, through between the birch-trees, -here and there over the wildest part of the moor, till he passes close -by the edge of that deep sand-pit, which must have rested a long time -since it contributed any of its crumbling particles to strew the floor -of the public-house, or sprinkle the passage of the cottage; for the -bushes are growing thick down the slope, and there seems as if there -had been a little kitchen-garden in the bottom, and a human -habitation.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the reign of that King George, under whose paternal sceptre -flourished the English nation in the times whereof I am writing, there -was a cottage in that sand-pit, a small lonely house, built of timber, -laths, and mud, and containing two or three rooms. The materials, as I -have shown, were poor, ease and comfort seemed far from it, yet there -was something altogether not unpleasant in the idea of dwelling in -that sheltered nook, with the dry sand and the green bushes round, and -feeling, that let the wind rave as it would over the hill, let it bend -down the birch-trees, and make the pines rustle and crack, and strike -their branches against each other, the fury of the tempest could not -reach one there--that let the rain pour down in ever such heavy -torrents, as if the windows of Heaven were open, the thirsty ground -would drink up the streams as they fell, as if its draught were -insatiable. There were signs of taste, too, about the building, of a -humble and natural kind. Over the door had been formed with some -labour a little sort of trellised portico, of rough wood-work, like an -arbour, and over this had been trained several plants of the wild-hop -and wild-clematis, with one solitary creeping garden-rose. Sticks had -been placed across the house, too, to afford a stay for these shrubs -to spread themselves over the face of the cottage, if they had any -strength to spare, when they had covered the little portico, and two -or three wandering shoots, like truant children, were already sporting -along the fragile path thus afforded them.</p> - -<p class="normal">The interior of the house was less prepossessing than the outside; the -mud-floor, hard beaten down and very equally flattened, was dry -enough, for the sand below it carried off all moisture; but in the -walls of the rooms there was, alas! many a flaw through which sun or -moon might shine, or the night-wind enter, and to say the truth, the -inhabitants of the cottage were as much indebted to the banks of the -pit for protection against such a cold visitant, as to the -construction of their dwelling. The furniture was scanty and rude, -seeming to have been made by a hand not altogether unaccustomed to the -use of a carpenter's tools, but hastily and carelessly, so that in -gazing round the sleeping-chamber, one was inclined to imagine that -the common tent-bed that stood in one corner was the only article that -had ever tenanted a shop. The great chest, the table, the two or three -chairs, all spoke plainly the same artificer, and had that been all -that the room contained, it would have looked very miserable indeed; -but hanging from nails driven into the wall, were a number of very -peculiar ornaments. There was a fox's head and a fox's brush, dried, -and in good preservation; there was the gray skin of a badger, and the -brown skin of an otter; birds of prey of various sizes and -descriptions, the butcher-bird, the sparrow-hawk, and the buzzard, as -well as several owls. Besides these zoological specimens, were hung up -in the same manner a number of curious implements, the properties and -applications of some of which were easy to divine, while others -remained mysterious. There were two or three muzzles for dogs, which -could be distinguished at once, but then by their side was a -curious-looking contrivance, which appeared to be a Lilliputian -wire-mousetrap, sewn on to some straps of leather. Then came a large -coil of wire, a dog's collar, and a pair of greyhound-slips. Next -appeared something difficult to describe, having two saw-like jaws of -iron like a rat-trap, supported on semi-circular bars which were fixed -into a wooden handle, having a spring on the outside, and a revolving -plate within. It was evident that the jaws could be opened and kept -open in case of need, and had I been a hare, a rabbit, or any other -delicate-footed animal, I should not have liked to trust my ankle -within their gripe. I could describe several other instruments both of -leather and iron, which were similarly suspended from the wall; but as -I really cannot tell the reader what was the use of any one of them, -it would be but labour thrown away. However, there were other things, -the intent and purport of which were quite self-evident. Two or three -small cages, a landing-net, fishing-rods, a gun, powder-flasks, -shot-belts, a casting-net, and a clap-net, and by the side of the -window hung four small cages, containing singing-birds.</p> - -<p class="normal">But who was he in the midst of all this strange assortment? Was he the -owner of this wild, lonely dwelling? Oh no, it was a young man dressed -as none could be dressed who frequented not very different scenes from -those that lay around him. His clothes were not only those of a -gentleman, but those of a gentleman who thought much of his own -personal appearance--too much indeed to be perfectly gentlemanly. All -that the tailor, the boot-maker, the hat-maker could do had been done -to render the costume correct according to the fashion of the day; but -there was a certain something which may be called a too-smartness -about it all; the colours were too bright, the cut too decidedly -fashionable, to be quite in good taste. Neither was the arrangement -of the hues altogether harmonious. There are the same colours in a -China-aster and a rose, but yet what a difference in the appearance of -the two flowers; and the same sort of difference, though not to the -same extent, existed between the dress of the person before us, and -that of the truly well-dressed man even of his own time. In most other -respects his appearance was good; he was tall, rather slightly formed -than otherwise, and had none of that stiffness and rigidity which -might have been anticipated from his apparel. Demeanour is almost -always tinged more or less by character, and a wild, rash, vehement -disposition will, as in his case, give a freedom to the movements -which no drilling can altogether do away with. His features in -themselves were not bad. There was a good high forehead, somewhat -narrow indeed, a rather fine pair of eyes (if one could have seen them -both), a little close together, a well-formed nose, and a mouth and -chin not badly cut, though there was a good deal of animal in the one, -and the other was somewhat too prominent. The whole countenance, -however, was disfigured by a black silk shade which covered the right -eye, and a fresh scar all the way down the same side of the nose, -while from underneath the shade, which was not large enough for its -purpose, peeped out sundry rainbow rings of blue and yellow, invading -both the cheek and the temple.</p> - -<p class="normal">By these marks the reader has already perceived that this gentleman -has been presented to him before, but in a very different garb, which -he had thought fit to assume for his own particular purposes on the -preceding night, and now he sat in the cottage of Stephen Gimlet the -poacher, judging it expedient to keep himself at a distance from the -peopled haunts of man, during the bright and bustling day at least. At -night he proposed to betake himself to the inn which had been -mentioned in his conversation with the housekeeper; but after his -pleasant and hopeful conversation with his father, he had ridden -straight to the dwelling of his companion, Wolf, where on the -preceding day his portmantles had been left after they had arranged -their plans; and having stabled his horse in a shed at the back of the -building, had passed the heavy hours of darkness partly in bitter -meditations, and partly in conversation with his comrade. Sleep could -hardly be said to have visited his eyelids, for though after he cast -himself down to rest he had dozed from time to time, yet agitating -thoughts continually returned and deprived him of all real repose.</p> - -<p class="normal">At an early hour of the morning, and while it was still dark, Ste -Gimlet had gone out, as was his wont, and rising with the first rays -of the sun, Henry Wittingham employed himself in dressing with -scrupulous care, and then filled up about half an hour more in making -a black patch to hide his disfigured eye, out of an old silk -handkerchief. When this was accomplished, wanting something or another -to tie this covering in its right place, he looked round the room, but -in vain. Leather straps, dog-collars, rat-traps, brass wire, would -none of them do, and although near the nets there was lying a ball of -whip-cord, he thought that such a decoration as a string made with -that material would but ill accord with the rest of his habiliments. -He therefore walked across the little passage to the next room, and -lifted the coarse wooden latch of the door. He found the door locked, -however, and muttering to himself, "D--n the fellow, did he think I -would steal any thing?" he was turning away, when a small sweet voice -from within exclaimed, "I'm ready, daddy, I've got my stockings on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, he's locked the child in, that's it," said Henry Wittingham to -himself, and then raising his voice, he said, "Your daddy's not come -back, Charley, so lie still and be quiet."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then returning to the next room, the brilliant thought struck him of -cutting off the hem of the old silk handkerchief to make a string for -the black patch, which task being accomplished, and all complete, he -sat down and thought.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oh, how many sorts of misery there are in the world! In giving to man -his fine organisation, in raising him above the brute by delicate -structure, by intellect, by imagination, and by infinitely extended -hope and long persisting memory, nature, indeed, did afford him -infinite sources of enjoyment, but at the same time laid him open on -every side to the attack of evils. In perfect innocence, indeed, man -and his whole race might find nearly perfect happiness. The Garden of -Eden is but a type of the moral Paradise of a perfectly virtuous -state; but the moment that Sin entered, the thorns and briars grew up -to tear all feet; and the very capabilities of refined happiness -became the defenceless points for pain and wretchedness to assail us. -Infinite, indeed, are their attacks, and innumerable the forms that -they assume; but of all the shapes of misery, what is to be more -dreaded, what is more terrible than thought to a vicious mind? And -there he sat in thought, with the morning sunshine streaming around -him, calm, and pure, and tranquil. The light that gave deeper depth to -the shadows of his own heart. What did he think of? Where did his -meditations rest? On the happiness that was passed away, on the gay -hours of childhood, on the sports of his boyish days, on the times -when the world was young for him, and every thing was full of -freshness and enjoyment? Or did he think of the blessing cast away, of -wealth, and comfort, and ease, with no reasonable wish ungratified, no -virtuous pleasure denied? Or did he look forward to the future with -fear and anguish, and to the past with remorse and grief? Heaven only -knows, but there he sat, with his head bent forward, his brow -contracted, his teeth tight shut, his right arm fallen listlessly by -his side, his left hand contracting and expanding involuntarily upon -some fragments of silk on the table. He gazed forward through the -window, from under his bent brows. He saw not the sunshine, but he -felt it and loved it not; and ever and anon the dark shadows of strong -emotion crossed his countenance like misty clouds swept over the face -of the mountain. He sat long, and was at heart impatient for his -companion's return; but so strong was the hold that thought had got -upon him, he knew not how time went. He heard not even the child cry -in the neighbouring room, when, wearied with waiting, it got terrified -at the unusual length of his father's absence.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, however, the stout form of the poacher was seen descending -the small steep path which led from the moor into the sand-pit. His -step was slow and heavy, his air dull and discontented; but Harry -Wittingham as soon as he beheld him started up and opened him the door -of the cottage, exclaiming, "Well, Wolf, what news?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Neither the best in the world nor the worst," answered the man -somewhat sullenly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And what have you got for breakfast?" inquired the young gentleman, -"I am as hungry as the devil!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must wait a bit though," answered Wolf, descending, "I must look -after the boy first. Poor little man, I dare say he has cried his eyes -out, I've been so long--but if you're in a great hurry, you'd better -light the fire, Master Harry, you'll find some wood in the corner -there, and you can strike a light with the pistol flint."</p> - -<p class="normal">Harry Wittingham did not look well pleased, and turning into the house -again walked to the window, and affected to hum a tune, without -undertaking the menial office that the other had assigned him. In the -meanwhile, Wolf walked straight to the other door, unlocked it, and -catching up the beautiful boy, who was sitting half dressed on a stool -crying, he pressed him eagerly to his breast, and kissed him once or -twice. There were strange and salutary thoughts passed through his -brain at that moment. He asked himself what would have become of that -child if he had been detained and taken to prison, as indeed had been -very likely. Who would have let the boy out of that solitary room--who -would have given him food--who would have nursed and tended him? And -once or twice while he was finishing what the child's tiny hands had -left undone, in attempting to dress himself, the father rubbed his -brow, and thought heavily. Say what man will of the natural -affections, they are the best ties to good conduct.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he had done, he took the boy by the hand and led him into the -other room, gave a glance to the fireplace, and then to Harry -Wittingham as he stood at the window, and his brow gathered into a -frown. He said nothing, however, lighted the fire himself, and taking -the fish from his pocket proceeded to broil them. Then from the great -chest he drew out a knife or two, a cut loaf of coarse bread, and two -or three glasses, which he placed upon the table, and giving his child -a large hunch of the bread, told him in a whisper, as if it were a -mighty secret, that he should have a nice trout in a minute. To Harry -Wittingham he said not a word, till at length the other turning round -exclaimed, "Well, Wolf, you have not told me what news you bring."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you have not lighted the fire," said Ste Gimlet. "If you think, -Master Wittingham, that you can live in a place like this and keep -your hands clean, you are mistaken. You must shape your manners to -your company, or give it up."</p> - -<p class="normal">Harry Wittingham felt inclined to make an angry answer; but -recollecting how much he was in his companion's power, prudence came -to his aid, and he only replied, "Pooh, pooh, Wolf, I am not -accustomed to lighting fires, and I do not know how to set about it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith you may have to learn some day," answered his comrade. "When I -built all this house and made all these chairs and tables with my own -hands, I knew as little about a trade I never thought to practise, as -you about this."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, you have practised many a trade in your day," said Harry -Wittingham, "and I never but one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nor that a very good one," murmured Wolf to himself; but the storm -thus passed away for the time, and the trout were broiled and put in a -plate, from which the two men and the little boy made each a hearty -meal.</p> - -<p class="normal">The magistrate's son suffered their breakfast to pass over without -making any further inquiry respecting the tidings which his companion -had obtained in his morning's expedition; but after Ste Gimlet had -produced a bottle of very fine white brandy, which certainly had not -turned pale at the sight of a custom-house officer, and each had taken -a glass mixed with some of the cold water which formed the purer -beverage of the child, the poacher vouchsafed the information unasked, -relating to Harry Wittingham a great part of what had taken place -between himself and Ned Hayward. What he did not relate he probably -thought of no consequence, though men's opinions might perhaps differ -upon that subject; but at all events Harry Wittingham gathered that he -had been met and narrowly escaped being apprehended by a man, who had -questioned him closely about the adventures of the night before and -who was acquainted with his name, and the share he had had in a -somewhat perilous and disgraceful enterprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such tidings cast him into another fit of dark and gloomy thought, in -which he remained for about five minutes without uttering a word; but -then he gave a start, and looked up with a gleam of satisfaction on -his face, as if some new and pleasant conclusion had suddenly -presented itself to his mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'll tell you what, Ste," he said, "I've just thought of something. -You must go down to Tarningham for me, and gather all the news you can -about this fellow--find out who he is, and whether he is a London beak -or not; and then when you have done all that--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall do none of it, Master Harry," answered the poacher, "I won't -stir another step in this business--I don't like it, Sir; it's not in -my way. I undertook it just to please you for old companionship's -sake, and because you told me the young lady would have no objection; -and then when I was in it, I went through with it, though I saw well -enough that she liked the thought of going as much as I should like to -dance on a rope. But I will have no more to do with it now; it has -done me enough harm already, and now I shall be watched ten times -closer than ever, and lose my living--so go, I do not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, come, Wolf, there's a good fellow--this is all nonsense," said -Harry Wittingham, in a coaxing tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the man cut him short, repeating sternly that he would not go.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, by--, I will go myself," exclaimed the young gentleman, with a -blasphemous oath, "if you are afraid, I am not."</p> - -<p class="normal">And starting up, he walked out of the cottage, took his way round to -the shed at the back, trampling upon several of the flowers, which the -poacher loved to cultivate, as he went; and in about a quarter of an -hour he was seen riding up the little path towards the moor.</p> - -<p class="normal">After he was gone, Ste Gimlet remained for some time in very -thoughtful mood: now gazing idly at vacancy, now playing with the -child's hair, or answering its infantine questions with an abstracted -air. At length he muttered, "What's to be done now?" and then added -aloud, "well, something must be done. Go out and play in the garden, -Charley."</p> - -<p class="normal">The child toddled out right gladly, and the poacher set himself down -to mend his bird-net; but ever and anon he laid down the cunning -meshes on his knee, and let his thoughts entangle themselves in links -not less intricate.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'll try the other thing," he said, after a time, "this does not do. -I should not care for myself, but it's the poor baby. Poor dear Mary, -that always rested on her heart, what I should do with the boy when -she was gone. Well, I'll try and do better. Perhaps she is looking -down on us--who knows?"</p> - -<p class="normal">And then he fell to his work again with a sigh. He employed himself -with several things for two or three hours. He finished the net; he -made a wicker-basket--it was the first he had ever attempted, but he -did it better than might have been expected, and then he called the -boy in to his dinner, giving him a trout he had saved when he broiled -the others; for his own part he contented himself with a lump of the -bread. When that was done, he went and caught some small birds on the -moor, just above the edge of the pit, where he could see the child -playing below. When he had thus provided their light supper--for the -luxury of tea was unknown in Ste Gimlet's cottage, he came back and -sat down by the boy, and played with him fondly for several minutes, -gazing at him from time to time with a melancholy earnestness, which -mingled even with the smile of joy and pride that lighted his eyes, as -some movement of childish grace called forth the beauties of his -child. Nevertheless, from time to time, there was a sort of absent -look, and twice he went up to the bank above and gazed out over the -moor towards Tarningham. At length he went away far enough to climb to -the top of the neighbouring barrow or tumulus, after having told the -boy not to venture up the path. From the position in which he then -stood, he had a fair view of the scene I have already described, and -caught the windings of the high road down the hill more distinctly -than from below.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shouldn't wonder if they had caught him," said Wolf to himself with -a frown, and an anxious expression of countenance, "and then he will -say it was my fault, and that I was afraid to go, and all that--Hang -it! why should I care what he says or what he thinks!" And with this -reflection he turned round and went back homeward. He found the boy at -the top of the bank, however, and gave him a gentle shake, scolding -him till the big drops began to gather in his large blue eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">Stephen Gimlet was not satisfied with himself, and scolding the child -he found did not act as a diversion to his own self-reproaches. After -he had set his son playing again, he walked about moodily for near a -quarter of an hour, and then burst forth impetuously, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can't stand this, I must go and see what's become of him--they'll -know at the turnpike if he's passed, and the old woman won't blab. -Here, Charley, boy, you must go and play in the house now--it's -growing late, and I'm going away--I shan't be long, and you shall have -the bird-cages to play with."</p> - -<p class="normal">The boy seemed to be well accustomed to it, and trotted away to the -house before his father, without any signs of reluctance. He was -placed in the same room where he had been in the morning, some empty -bird-cages and two or three other things were given him for his -amusement, and locking the door of the chamber, the poacher walked -away, saying with a sigh, "There can no harm happen this time, for I -am going to do no wrong to any one."</p> - -<p class="normal">Vain, however, are all such calculations. The faults and virtues of -others as well as our own faults and virtues, enter into the strange -composition of our fate, and affect us darkly and mysteriously in a -manner which we can never foresee. If we reflected on the eve of -action on the number of beings throughout all time, and throughout our -whole race, who may be affected, nay, who must be affected by any deed -that we are about to perform, how many men would never act at all from -hesitation, how many would still act rashly and heedlessly as they do -now, from the impossibility of seeing the results. Happy is he who -acts deliberately, wisely, and honestly, leaving the consequences with -a clear conscience to Him who governs all aright.</p> - -<p class="normal">The poacher had left his own door about a quarter of an hour, when two -men took their way down into the sand-pit, the one on horseback, the -other on foot. Harry Wittingham fastened his horse's bridle to the -latch of the door, and going in with his companion looked round for -Wolf, then crossing over to the other chamber, and finding it locked, -he said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stephen isn't here; there, take that up, and be off with it," and he -pointed to his portmanteau in the corner where it lay.</p> - -<p class="normal">The other man, who seemed a common farm-servant, or one of the -inferior stable-men of an inn, got the portmanteau on his shoulder, -and walked away with it, and Harry Wittingham remained for a minute or -two with his hands behind his back looking out of the window. At the -end of that time he said aloud: "Well, it's no use waiting for him, we -should only have a row, I dare say, so I'll be off too."</p> - -<p class="normal">Before he went, however, he looked round the place for a moment, with -an expression of mockery and contempt. What was in his bosom, it would -be difficult to say, for the heart of man is full of strange things. -Perhaps he felt it unpleasant to be under an obligation to the owner -of that poor tenement, even for a night's shelter, and strove to salve -the wound of pride by reducing the obligation to the lowest point in -his own estimation. He might think that the misery he saw around did -not make it a very desirable resting-place, and that he had little to -be thankful for in having been permitted to share a beggar's hut. His -eyes, as he looked around, fell upon some embers of smouldering wood -on the hearth, and that called to mind one of the many bad habits -which he had lately acquired, and in which he had not yet indulged -through the whole of that day. He accordingly put his hand in his -pocket, and pulled out some cigars, then not very common in England. -Next taking up with the tongs, a piece of the charred and still -burning wood, he lighted one of the rolls of weed, cast down the -ember, and threw the tongs back upon the hearth; after which, mounting -his horse, he cantered away as blithely as if his heart had been -innocent as a child's.</p> - -<p class="normal">The embers fell upon the earthen floor, where, under ordinary -circumstances they could do no harm; but it so happened that Stephen -Gimlet, when he had done mending the net, had cast down the hank of -twine close by the table. A long end of the string had fallen toward -the fireplace, and a moment or two after Henry Wittingham had quitted -the cottage, the piece of charred wood itself became black, but a -small spot of fire was seen close to it, and a thin filing curl of -smoke arose. It went on smouldering for about five minutes, creeping -forwards inch by inch, and then a gust of wind through the door, which -he had left open, fanned it, and a flame broke out. Then it ran -rapidly along, caught the hank of twine, which was in a blaze in a -moment. It spared the netting-needle, which was of hard box-wood, and -for an instant seemed to promise to go out of itself; but then the -flame leaped up, and the meshes of the net which had been left partly -on the table, partly on a chair, showed a spark here and there, -flashed with the flame, and then, oh, how eagerly the greedy element -commenced devouring all that it could meet with! Wherever there was a -piece of wood-work it seized upon it; the table, the chair, the poles -of the net, the upright posts of the wall, the beams of the roof, the -thatch itself, and then instantly a cloud of dull black smoke, mixed -with sparks, rose up upon the moor, from the sand-pit. The heat became -intense, the smoke penetrated into the other chamber, the sparks began -to fall before the window, a red light spread around, and then the -terrified screams of a child were heard.</p> - -<p class="normal">About a quarter of an hour before, a gentleman had appeared upon the -moor, from the side of Sir John Slingsby's park. He had come up the -hill as if he were walking for a wager, for there was something in the -resistance of the acclivity to his progress, which made the vigorous -spirit of youth and health resolute to conquer it triumphantly. When -the feat was done, however, and the hill passed as if it had been a -piece of level ground, Ned Hayward slackened his pace and looked about -him, enjoyed to the full all that the wide expanse had of grand and -fine, breathed freer in the high air, and let the spirit of solitary -grandeur sink into his heart. He had none of the affected love of the -picturesque and the sublime, which make the folks who assume the -poetical so ridiculous. He was rather inclined to check what people -call fine feelings than not; he was inclined to fancy himself, and to -make other people fancy him a very commonplace sort of person, and he -would not have gone into an ecstasy for the world, even at the very -finest thing that the world ever produced; but he could not help, for -the life of him, feeling every thing that was beautiful and great, -more than he altogether liked, so that, when in society, he passed it -off with a touch of persiflage, putting that sort of shield over what -he felt to be a vulnerable point. Now, however, when he happened to be -alone, he let Nature have her way, and holding his riding-whip by both -ends, walked here and walked there, gazing at the prospect where he -could get a sight of it, and looking to the right and the left as if -not to let any point of loveliness escape him. His eyes soon fell upon -the little tumulus already mentioned, with the sentinel fir-trees -keeping guard upon the top, and thinking that there must be a good -look-out from that high position, he walked slowly up and gazed over -the park towards Tarningham. Suddenly, however, his eyes were -withdrawn, as a cloud of white smoke came rolling up out of the -sand-pit.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, ha!" he said, "my friend Master Wolf lighting his fire I -suppose."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the smoke increased. Ned Hayward thought he saw some sparks rising -over the bushes. A sudden sensation of apprehension crossed his mind, -and he walked rapidly down the side of the hillock, and crossed the -intervening space with a step quick in reality, though intended to -appear leisurely; but in a moment a cloud of deeper-coloured smoke, -tinged with flame, burst up into the evening air, and he sprang -forward at full speed. A few bounds brought him to the side of the -pit, and as he reached it a scream met his ear. It was the easily -recognised voice of childhood, in terror or in pain, and Ned Hayward -hesitated not an instant. There was a path down a couple of hundred -yards away to the left, but the scene before his eyes counselled no -delay. There was the cottage, with the farther part of the thatch all -in a blaze, the window of the room beneath it fallen in, and the flame -rushing forth, a cloud of smoke issuing from the door, and scream -after scream proceeding from the nearer end of the building. His -riding-whip was cast down at once, and grasping the stem of the -birch-tree rooted in the very edge, he swung himself over, thinking to -drop upon a sloping part of the bank about ten feet below. The filmy -roots of the shrub, however, had not sufficient room hold upon the -sandy soil to sustain his weight; the tree bent, gave way, and came -down over him with a part of the bank, so that he and his frail -support rolled together to the bottom of the pit. He was up in an -instant, however he might be hurt or he might not, he knew nothing -about it, but the shrill cry of the child rang in his ear, and he -darted forward to the cottage-door. It was full of fire, and dark with -suffocating vapour, but in he rushed, scorching his hair, hands, his -face, and his clothes, found the other door blackened, and in some -places alight with the encroaching fire, tried to open it but failed, -and then shouted aloud, "Keep back, keep back, and I will burst it -open," and then, setting his foot against it, he cast it with a -vigorous effort into the room. A momentary glance around showed him -the child, who had crept as near to the window as possible, and, -darting forward, Ned Hayward caught the boy up in his arms, and rushed -out with him, covering his head with his arm, that none of the beams, -which were beginning to fall, might strike him as they passed, then -setting him down on the green turf when they were at a little -distance, he asked eagerly, "Are there any more?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The child, however, stupified with terror, gazed in his face and cried -bitterly, but answered not. Seeing he could obtain no reply, Ned -Hayward ran back to the cottage and tried to go in again, but it was -now impossible; the whole way was blocked up with burning rafters, and -large detached masses of the thatch, which had fallen in, and were now -sending up vast showers of sparks, as the wind stirred them. He -hurried to the window and looked in, and though the small panes were -cracking with the heat, he forced it open, and shouted at the extreme -pitch of his voice, to drown the rushing sound of the fire, "Is there -any one within?"</p> - -<p class="normal">There was no answer, and the moment after, the dry beams being burnt -away, and the support at the other end gone, the whole thatch above -gave way, and fell into the room, the flame above carried up into a -spire as it descended.</p> - -<p class="normal">The heat was now intolerable, and forced a retreat to a distance. -Captain Hayward took the boy up in his arms and strove to soothe him, -and gain some information from him. It was all in vain, however, and -after a moment's thought, the gentleman said to himself, "I will carry -him away to Tarningham House. Jack Slingsby will never refuse him food -and shelter, I am sure, and in case there should be any one else in -the place it is vain to hope that one could save them now. We can send -up people to look for the bodies. But let us see what's at the back of -the house." He accordingly walked round, still carrying the boy in his -arms, but found nothing there, except a low detached shed, which -seemed in security, as the wind blew the other way. A long trough and -spout, indeed, between the shed and the cottage, seemed in a somewhat -perilous position, and as it was likely that they might lead the fire -to the building yet uninjured, Ned Hayward thought fit to remove them -before he left the ground. This cost him some trouble, as they were -rooted in the sand; but when it was once accomplished he took up the -boy again, sought his hat, and crossing the moor, entered the western -gates of Sir John Slingsby's park without meeting any one from whom he -could obtain information, or to whom he could communicate the event -which had just occurred.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XI.</h4> -<h5>A Chapter on Ghosts, and a Ghost-story.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The events detailed in the last chapter, or at least that portion of -them in which he himself had borne a share, were related by Ned -Hayward to the party at Sir John Slingsby's after he had rejoined them -at the dinner table, having done his best to remove the traces of his -adventure from his personal appearance. The smoke and sand were washed -away, the burnt and singed garments had been changed for others, and -Ned Hayward still appeared a very good-looking fellow, not the less -interesting perhaps in the eyes of the ladies there present for all -that he had done and suffered. Nevertheless, the fine wavy curls of -his brown hair, which had been burnt off, were not to be recovered in -so short a time, and both his hands showed evident signs of having -been injured by the fire. He was in high spirits, however, for the -assurance that there could be nobody else in the cottage but the boy, -unless it were Gimlet the poacher himself, of which there was no -probability, had relieved the young gentleman's mind of a heavy -weight, and he jested gaily with Sir John Slingsby, who vowed that -with those hands of his he would not be able to throw a line for a -fortnight, replied that he would undertake to catch the finest trout -in the whole water before noon the next day.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now, my dear Sir," he continued, turning to the clergyman, "as -you seem to know something of this good gentleman, Gimlet, and his -affairs, I wish you'd give me a little insight into his history."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a sad and not uncommon one," answered Dr. Miles, gravely, "and -I will tell it you some other time. My poor parishioners have a -superstitious feeling about that pit, and that cottage, for a man was -murdered there some years ago. You will find multitudes of people who -will vouch for his ghost having been seen sitting on the bank above, -and under a solitary birch-tree."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It won't sit there any more," answered Ned Hayward, laughing, "for -the birch-tree and I rolled down into the pit together, as I tried to -drop down by its help, thinking it was quite strong enough to support -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I am afraid the ghost is gone altogether for the future," said -Dr. Miles, in a tone of some regret.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Afraid! my dear doctor," exclaimed Miss Slingsby, "surely you do not -want ghosts among your parishioners?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Sir John Slingsby, with a merry, fat, -overflowing chuckle, "Isabella means, my dear doctor, that you may -make your flock as spiritual as you please, but not reduce them quite -to spectres."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, papa, you are a wrong interpreter," rejoined his daughter, "I -meant to say that of all men on earth, I should have thought Dr. Miles -was the last to patronise a ghost."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know, my dear," replied the worthy clergyman, "a ghost is -sometimes very serviceable in a parish. We are but children of a -bigger growth, and a bugbear is as necessary sometimes for great -babies as small ones, not that I ever used it or should use it; but -the people's own imagination did that for me. I have heard, Sir John, -that some men when they were lying out to shoot your deer, were scared -away by one of them fancying he saw the ghost, and you saved two good -haunches of venison, to say nothing of the pasty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By Jove, that was a jolly ghost indeed," answered Sir John Slingsby, -"and I'll give him a crown the first time I meet him. Doctor, a glass -of wine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If ghosts have such effects upon poachers," said Beauchamp, who had -been speaking in a low tone to Miss Slingsby, "how happens it that -this man, the father of the boy whom Captain Hayward brought hither, -fixed his abode in the spirit's immediate neighbourhood?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh he is a sad unbelieving dog," said Dr. Miles; but then suddenly -checking himself he added, "and yet I believe in that I do him -injustice; there is some good in the man, and a great deal of -imagination. Half his faults proceed from an ill-disciplined fancy; -but the truth is, being a very fearless fellow, and of this -imaginative disposition, I believe he would just as soon have a ghost -for a next door neighbour as not. Therefore, I do not suppose that it -was from any doubt of the reality of the apparition, but rather in -defiance of it, that he setup his abode there; and perhaps he thought, -too, that it might serve as a sort of safeguard to him, a protection -against the intrusion of persons less bold than himself, at those -hours when ghosts and he himself are wont to wander. He knew well that -none of the country people would come near him then, for all the -ignorant believe in apparitions more or less."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, dear Dr. Miles, do tell me," cried Isabella Slingsby with a gay -laugh, "whether some of the learned do not believe in them too. If it -were put as a serious question to the Rev. Dr. Miles himself, whether -he had not a little quiet belief at the bottom of his heart in the -appearance of ghosts, what would he answer?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That he had never seen one, my dear," replied the clergyman, with a -good-humoured smile, "but at the same time I must say that a belief in -the occasional appearance of the spirits of the dead for particular -purposes, is a part of our religion. I have no idea of a man calling -himself a Christian and taking what parts of the Bible he likes, and -rejecting or explaining away the rest. The fact of the re-appearance -of dead people on this earth is more than once mentioned in Scripture, -and therefore I believe that it has taken place. The purposes for -which it was permitted in all the instances there noticed, were great -and momentous, and it may very possibly be that since the Advent of -Our Saviour, no such deviations from usual laws have been requisite. -Of that, however, I can be no judge; but at all events my own reason -tells me, that it is not probable a spirit should be allowed to -revisit the glimpses of the moon for the purpose of making an old -woman say her prayers, or frightening a village girl into fits."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are speaking alone of the apparition of the spirits of the dead," -said Beauchamp, "did you ever hear of the appearance of the spirits of -the living?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not without their bodies, surely!" said Miss Clifford.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes, my dear Mary," answered Dr. Miles, "such things are recorded, -I can assure you, ay, and upon testimony so strong that is impossible -to doubt that the witnesses believed what they related, whether the -apparition was a delusion of their own fancy or not--indeed it is -scarcely possible to suppose that it was a delusion, for in several -instances the thing, whatever it was, made itself visible to several -persons at once, and they all precisely agreed in the description of -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"One of the most curious occurrences of the kind that ever I heard -of," said Beauchamp, "was told me by a German gentleman to whom it -happened. It was the case of a man seeing his own spirit, and although -we are continually told we ought to know ourselves, few men have ever -had such an opportunity of doing so as this gentleman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh do tell us the whole story, Mr. Beauchamp," cried Isabella, -eagerly, "I must beg and entreat that you would not tantalise us with -a mere glimpse of such a delightful vision, and then let fall the -curtain again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear Bella, you are tantalising him," exclaimed her father. "Don't -you see that you are preventing him from eating his dinner; at all -events, we will have a glass of wine first; shall it be Hermitage, Mr. -Beauchamp? I have some of 1808, the year before that rascal, Napoleon, -mixed all the vintages together."</p> - -<p class="normal">The wine was drunk, but immediately this was accomplished, Isabella -renewed her attack, calling upon Mr. Beauchamp for the story, and in -her eagerness laying one round taper finger upon his arm as he sat -beside her, to impress more fully her commands upon him, as she said, -"I must and will have the story, Mr. Beauchamp."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Assuredly," he replied, in his usual quiet tone, "but first of all, I -must premise one or two things, that you may give it all the weight it -deserves. The gentleman who told it to me was, at the time of my -acquaintance with him, a man of about seventy years of age, very -simple in his manners, and, however excitable his fancy might have -been in youth, he was at the time I speak of, as unimaginative a -person as it is possible to conceive. He assured me most solemnly, as -an old man upon the verge of eternity, that every word he spoke was -truth, and now I will tell it as nearly in his own language as I can, -and my memory is a very retentive one. You must remember, however, -that it is he who is speaking, and not I; and fancy us sitting -together, the old man and the young one, warming ourselves by a stove -on a winter's night, in the fine old town of Nuremberg."</p> -<br> -<br> - -<h4>BEAUCHAMP'S STORY.</h4> - -<p class="normal">"I am of an Italian family," said my friend, "but my father and my -grandfather were both born in Germany; exceedingly good people in -their way, but by no means very wealthy. My elder brother was being -educated for a physician, and had just finished his course of study, -when my father, having given me as good an education as he could in -Nuremberg, thought fit to send me to Hamburg, that I might pursue my -studies there, and take advantage of any opportunity that might occur -for advancing myself in life. My stock of all kinds was exceedingly -small when I set out; my purse contained the closely-estimated -expenses of my journey, and the allowance made for my maintenance -during six months, which did not admit the slightest idea of luxury of -any kind. I was grateful, however, for what was given, for I knew that -my father could afford no more, and I had no hope of another 'heller' -till my half year was out. I had my ordinary travelling dress, and my -mother gave me six new shirts, which she had spun with her own hands; -besides these, my portmanteau contained one complete black suit, two -pair of shoes, and a pair of silver buckles, which my father took off -his own feet and bestowed them upon me with his benediction. My elder -brother always loved me, and was kind to me; and when my going was -first talked of, he regretted deeply that he had nothing to give me; -but my little preparations occupied a fortnight, and during that time -good luck befriended him and me, and he treated and killed his first -patient. Thus he obtained the means of making me a sumptuous present -for my journey, which consisted of a straight-cut blue mantle, with a -square collar. Let me dwell upon the mantle, for it is important. It -was in the Nuremberg fashion, which had gone out of vogue over all -Germany for at last thirty years, and when I first put it on, I felt -very proud of it, thinking that I looked like one of the cavaliers in -the great picture in the town-hall. However, there was not another -mantle like it in all Germany, except in Nuremberg--sky-blue, falling -three inches below the knee, with a square-cut collar. I will pass -over my journey to Hamburg, till my arrival in a little common inn, in -the old part of the town. Not having a pfennig to spare, I set out -early the next morning to look out for a lodging, and saw several that -would have suited myself very well, but which did not suit my -finances. At length, seeing the wife of a grocer standing at the door, -with a good-humoured countenance, in a narrow and dark street, -containing some large, fine houses, which had seen the splendours of -former times, I walked up to her and asked if she could recommend a -lodging to a young man who was not over rich. After thinking for a -moment, she pointed over the way, to a house with a decorated front, -which had become as black as ink with age. The lower story was -entirely occupied by an iron-warehouse; but she said that up above on -the first floor I should find Widow Gentner, who let one room, and who -had, she believed, no lodger at the time. I thanked her many times for -her civility, and walking across the street to the point she -indicated, I looked up at the cornices and other ornaments which were -displayed upon the facade. Dirty they were beyond all doubt. A pair of -stone ladies with baskets in their hands, which had probably been once -as white as snow, now displayed long dripping lines of black upon -their garments; their noses had disappeared, but the balls of the eyes -were of the deepest brown, though above the centre appeared a white -spot, which seemed to show the presence of cataract. The fruit in the -baskets, however, consisted apparently of black cherries, and a dingy -cornucopia, which stood by the side of each, vomited forth swarthy -fruit and flowers of a very uninviting quality. I gazed in surprise -and admiration, and asked myself if it ever would be my fate to live -in so fine a mansion. Taking courage, however, I inquired at the -ironmonger's which was the door of Widow Gentner, and of the three -which opened into the lower part of the house, I was directed to the -second. On the first floor I found a tidy little maid, who introduced -me to the presence of her mistress, a quiet, dry old lady, who was -seated in a room which had apparently formed part of a magnificent -saloon--I say formed part, for it was evident that the size of the -chamber had been much curtailed. On the ceiling, which was of the most -magnificent stucco work I ever saw, appeared various groups of angels -and cherubs in high relief, as large as life, and seated amidst clouds -and bunches of flowers as big as feather-beds. But that ceiling -betrayed the dismemberment of the room; for all along the side where -ran the wall behind the good lady were seen angels' legs without the -heads and bodies, baskets of flowers cut in two, and cherubs with not -above one-half of the members even, which sculptors have left them. -This was soon explained: the widow informed me that she had divided -her chamber into three, of which she reserved one for herself, another -for her little maid, and let the third, which had a staircase to -itself opening from the street. She had done so with a good wall, she -said, to support the plafond, so that if I wanted to see the room she -had to let, I must go down again with her and mount the other stairs, -as there was no door of communication. I admired her prudence, and -accompanied her at once to a small room, arrived at by a small -staircase with its own street-door; and there I found on the ceiling -above my head the lost legs and wings of the angels on the other side, -besides a very solid pair of cherubims of my own. It contained a -little narrow bed, a table, a scanty proportion of chairs and other -things necessary for the existence of a student; and though an -unpleasant feeling of solitude crept over me as I thought of -inhabiting an apartment so entirely cut off from all human proximity, -yet as the widow's rent was small, I closed the bargain at once, and -soon was installed in my new abode. The good lady was very kind and -attentive, and did all she could to make me comfortable, inquiring, -amongst other things, what letters of introduction I had in Hamburg. I -had but one which I considered of any value, which was addressed, -with many of those flourishes which you know are common amongst us, to -Mr. S., a famous man in his day, both as a philosopher and literary -man, and who was also a man of sense of the world, and what is more -than ali, of a kind and benevolent heart. I went to deliver it that -very day, and met with a most kind and friendly reception from a -good-looking old gentleman, of perhaps sixty-three or four, who at -once made me feel myself at home with him, treating me with that -parental air which inspired both respect and confidence. He asked -several questions about my journey, where I lodged, how I intended to -employ my time, and last, what was the state of my finances. I told -him all exactly as it was, and when I rose to depart, he laid his hand -on my arm with the most benevolent air in the world, saying, 'You will -dine with me to-morrow at twelve o'clock, and I shall expect to see -you at dinner three days in the week as long as you stay. From eight -to ten at night I am always at home, and whenever you have nothing -else to do, come in and spend those hours with us.' I will not pretend -to say I was not quite well aware that the place thus granted me at -his dinner-table was offered from a knowledge of the limited state of -my finances; but pride in my case was out of the question, and I was -exceedingly grateful for the act of kindness, which saved me a -considerable sum in my housekeeping, and enabled me to indulge in a -few little luxuries which I could not otherwise have commanded.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was the autumn of the year when I arrived at Hamburg, but the time -passed very pleasantly. All the day I was engaged in my studies; at -twelve o'clock I dined, either at my own chamber or at worthy Mr. -S.'s, and almost every evening was spent at his house, where he failed -not to regale me, either with a cup of fine coffee, or sometimes as a -great treat, with a cup of tea, according to your English mode. In -short, I became his nightly guest, and as the evenings grew dark and -sometimes foggy, I bought a little lantern to light myself through the -long and lonely streets which I had to pass from his house to my own. -On these occasions, too, as the weather grew intensely cold, my blue -cloak with the square collar proved a most serviceable friend, and -every night at ten o'clock I might be seen in precisely the same -attire, with my black suit, in great part covered by the azure mantle, -and the small lantern in my hand, finding my way homeward to my -solitary abode. Mr. S. lived in the fine new part of the town, where -he had a handsome house, with two maid-servants and his coachman, but -the latter slept at the stables. I lived, as I have before said, in -the old part of the town, well-nigh a mile distant; thus, in coming -and going, I got exercise at night, if I did not in the day, and I -mark it particularly, that I used to enjoy my walk to his house and -back, and used to look forward to it with pleasure during my hours of -study, in order that you may see, that on the occasion of which I am -about to speak, I was affected by no fantastical melancholy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"At length, one night in the winter of 17--, after passing the evening -at the house of Mr. S., where I had taken nothing but a cup of coffee -and a slice of brown bread-and-butter, I took leave of my friend, put -on my blue mantle with a square collar, lighted my lantern at the -housemaid's candle, and having safely shut the glass, set out on my -walk home. It was about a quarter-past ten, and the night was clear -and very dark; the sky, indeed, was full of stars, which looked -peculiarly bright as I gazed up at them, between the tall houses, as -if from the bottom of a well, and I felt a sort of exhilarating -freshness in the air that raised my spirits rather than otherwise. I -walked along to the end of the first street with a light step, turned -into the second, and was just entering the third, when I saw a figure -some thirty or forty paces before me, standing in a corner as if -waiting for some one. Although the streets, in the good old days of -Hamburg, were generally by that time of night quite deserted, yet -there was nothing extraordinary in my meeting one or two persons as I -went home, so that I took little or no notice of this figure, till I -had advanced to within about twenty paces, when it turned itself full -towards me, and at the same time the light of my lantern fell direct -upon it. Guess my surprise when I saw a being, so exactly like myself, -that I could have imagined I was looking in a glass. There were the -black legs, the shoes and silver buckles, the blue mantle with the -square-cut collar, and the little lantern with the handle at the back, -held just as I held mine. I stopped suddenly, and rubbed my eyes with -my left hand; but the figure immediately turned round and walked away -before me. At the same time my heart beat violently, and a sort of -strange dreamy sensation of horror came over me, like that which takes -possession of one sometimes when labouring under the nightmare. An -instant's reflection made me ashamed of what I felt, and saying to -myself, 'I'll look a little closer at this gentleman,' I walked on, -hurrying my pace. The figure, however, quickened its steps in the same -proportion. I did not like to run, but I was always a quick walker, -and I hastened as fast as ever I could; but it had no effect; the -figure, without the least apparent effort, kept always at the same -distance, and every moment I felt the sort of superstitious dread -which had taken possession of me increasing, and struggling against -the efforts of resolution. Resolution conquered, however, and -determined to see who this was that was so like me, without showing -him too plainly that I was chasing him, I stopped at a corner where a -street wound round, and entered again the one that I was pursuing at -some distance, and then taking to my heels, I ran as hard as I could -to get before my friend in the blue mantle. When I entered the other -street again, though I must have gained two or three minutes at least, -instead of seeing the figure coming from the side where I had left it, -there it was, walking on deliberately in the direction I usually -followed towards my own house. We were now within three streets of -Widow Gentner's, and though they were all of them narrow enough, I -generally took those which were most open. There was a lane, however, -to the left, which, passing by the grocer's I have mentioned, cut off -at least a quarter of the way, and as I was now overpowered by -feelings I cannot describe, I resolved to take the shortest path, and -run as hard as I could, in order to get home, and shut myself in -before the figure in the blue mantle reached the spot. Off I set then -down the narrow lane like lightning, but when I came to the grocer's -corner, my horror was complete, on beholding the same figure walking -along past the closed windows of the iron-shop, and I stopped with my -heart beating as if it would have burst through my ribs. With eyes -almost starting from my head, and the light of the lantern turned -full upon it, I gazed at its proceedings, when behold, it walked -quietly up to my door, stopped, turned round towards the house, put -the right-hand in its pocket, and seemed feeling for my key. The key -was produced, and stooping down, just as I should have done, after a -little searching for the keyhole, the door was opened, the figure went -in, and instantly the door closed again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you had given me the empire of a world, I could not have made up -my mind to go in after it, and setting off more like a madman than any -thing else, I returned to the house of Mr. S., with the intention of -telling him what had occurred. The bell was answered quickly enough by -the housemaid, who gazed at my wild and scared appearance with some -surprise. She told me, however, that the old gentleman had gone to -bed, and that she could not think of waking him on any account; and -resolved not to go home, and yet not liking to walk the streets of -Hamburg all night, I persuaded her with some difficulty to let me sit -in the saloon till I could speak with Mr. S. in the morning. I will -not detain you by describing how I passed the night; but when my -friend came down the next day, I related to him all that occurred, -with many excuses for the liberty I had taken. He listened gravely, -and his first question naturally was, if I were quite sure I had gone -straight homeward, without entering any of those places where strong -drinks were sold. I assured him most solemnly that the only thing that -had entered my lips that night was the cup of coffee which I had taken -at his house.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'The maid can tell you,' I said, 'that I had not been absent more -than three quarters of an hour when I returned.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Well, my young friend,' he replied, 'I believe you fully; very -strange things occasionally happen to us in life, and this seems one. -However, we will have some breakfast, and then go and inquire into -it.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"After breakfast we set out and walked to my house, I pointing out by -the way, all the different spots connected with my tale. When we -reached the gloomy old mansion, with its decorated front, I was going -direct to my own door, but Mr. S. said, 'Stay, we will first talk to -your landlady for a minute.' And we accordingly walked up to the rooms -of Widow Gentner by the other door and the other staircase. The widow -was very proud of the visit of so distinguished a person in the town -as Mr. S., and answered his questions with due respect. The first was -a very common one in that part of Germany, namely, whether she had -slept well that night. She assured him she had, perfectly well; and he -then proceeded with a somewhat impressive air, to inquire if nothing -had occurred to disturb her. She then suddenly seemed to recollect -herself, and answered, 'Now you mention it, I recollect I was awoke -about eleven o'clock, I think, by a noise on the other side of the -wall; but thinking that Mr. Z. had thrown over his table, or something -of that kind, I turned on the other side, and went to sleep again.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"No further information being to be obtained, we descended to the -street, and taking out my keys, I opened the door, and we went in. My -heart beat a little as we mounted the stairs, but resolving not to -show any want of courage, I boldly unlocked the room-door and threw it -open. The sight that presented itself made me pause on the threshold, -for there on my bed, where I should have been lying at the very moment -of its fall, was the whole ceiling of that part of the room, angels' -legs, and cherubims' wings, flower-baskets, and every thing, and so -great was the weight and the force with which it had come down, that -it had broken the solid bedstead underneath it. As I do not suppose my -head is formed of much more strong materials, it is probable that it -would have been cracked as well as the bed, and I heartily thank God -for my preservation. All my good old friend ventured to say, however, -was, 'A most fortunate escape! Had you slept here last night, you -would have been killed to a certainty.' Though a doctor of philosophy, -he did not risk any speculations upon the strange apparition which I -had beheld the night before; but invited me to take up my abode in his -house till my room could be put in order, never afterwards mentioning -the appearance of my double; and I have only to add that from that -time to this, now between fifty and sixty years, I have never seen -myself again except in a looking-glass."</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Such," continued Beauchamp, "is the story of my German friend, -exactly as he told it to me. I must leave you to judge of it as you -will, for unless you could see the old man, and know his perfect -simplicity of character, and quiet matter-of-fact temper of mind, you -could not take the same view of his history that I do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In short, Mr. Beauchamp, you are a believer in ghosts," said Sir John -Slingsby, laughing; "well, for my part, I never saw any better spirit -than a bottle of brandy, and hope never to see a worse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take care you don't find yourself mistaken, Sir John," answered Dr. -Miles, "for although it is rather difficult to meet with good spirits, -the bad ones are much more easily conjured up."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not afraid, doctor," answered Sir John, "and mind, I've only had -three or four glasses of wine, so mine is not Dutch courage now; but -let us talk of something else than ghosts and such things, or we shall -all have the blue devils before we've done--a capital story, -nevertheless, Beauchamp; but this is a good story too, doctor, about -my sister being stopped on the king's highway. Has she told you about -it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Miles merely nodded his head, and Sir John went on,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can't make out the game of that old rascal Wittingham, who -seems devilish unwilling to catch the thieves, and had taken himself -out of the way when Ned Hayward and I called this morning. The old -linen-drapering scamp shall find that he can't treat Jack Slingsby in -this way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, my dear brother, I wish you would let the matter rest," said -Mrs. Clifford; "no harm was done, except frightening me very -foolishly, and to pursue it further may, perhaps, lead to disagreeable -consequences. The letter written beforehand, to bring me over by a -report of your illness, shows that this was no ordinary affair."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A fig for the consequences," cried Sir John Slingsby, "if it were to -set half the town on fire, I would go on with it. Why, my dear -Harriet, am not I a magistrate, one of his majesty's justices of the -peace for the county of ----? Such a conscientious woman as you are, -would never have me neglect my solemn duties." And Sir John chuckled -with a low merry laugh, at the new view he chose to take of his -responsibilities.</p> - -<p class="normal">In such conversation the evening went on to its close, the subjects -changing rapidly, for the worthy baronet was not one to adhere -tenaciously to any particular line of thought, and Mrs. Clifford, -but more particularly still her daughter, being anxious to quit the -topic just started as soon as possible. Miss Clifford, indeed, seemed -so much agitated and embarrassed, whilst the adventures of the -preceding night were under discussion, that Ned Hayward, who was the -kindest-hearted man alive, and not without tact, especially where -women were concerned, came zealously to her relief, and engaged her in -low and earnest conversation.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was one of those cases in which two people without well knowing -what they are about, go on puzzling each other, though both may be as -frank as day. They talked of every simple subject which all the world -might have heard discussed--music, painting, poetry; but yet the whole -was carried on in so low a tone that to any one who did not know them -it would have appeared that they were making love. Miss Clifford was -puzzled, perplexed, to make out her companion's character, for she -certainly expected nothing from a man familiarly called Ned Hayward, -and more especially from a particular friend of her uncle's, but a -gay, rattling, good-humoured scapegrace at the best; yet in order to -gain her full attention, and withdraw her thoughts from a subject -which he saw annoyed her, Captain Hayward put off for the time his -usual careless, rapid manner, and spoke with so much feeling and good -taste, and what is more, good sense also, upon all the many topics -upon which their conversation ran--he showed her that he had read so -much, and thought so much, and felt so much, that she became convinced -before he had done, of the complete fallacy of all her preconceived -notions of his disposition. Such a change of opinion is always very -favourable to a man with a woman; for they are such generous -creatures, those women, that if they find they have done one -injustice, they are sure to go to the opposite extreme, and give us -credit for more than is our due.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward's puzzle was of a different kind, but it proceeded from -the same source, namely, an erroneous preconception. He saw that Mary -Clifford was embarrassed, whenever the subject of the attack upon -their carriage was mentioned, that she changed colour, not from red to -white as would have been the case, had terror had aught to do with it, -but from white to red, which is generally a change produced by other -emotions. He therefore set it down as a certain fact, that the fair -lady's heart was a little engaged in the transaction; and yet, as they -went on talking in that same low voice, she twice returned to the -subject herself, not without some degree of embarrassment it is true, -but still as if she wished to say more, and Ned Hayward thought with -some degree of pique, "Well, my pretty friend, I am not quite old -enough to be made a confidant of yet."</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, just as the dessert was being put upon the table, tiresome -Sir John Slingsby harped back upon the subject, asking Mr. Beauchamp -if he thought he could swear to any of the persons concerned; and -taking advantage of a quick and somewhat loud conversation which went -on between those two gentlemen and Dr. Miles, Miss Clifford suddenly -broke through what she was talking of with her companion on the right, -and said earnestly, but still almost in a whisper, "Captain Hayward, -you rendered me a very great service last night, for which I shall -ever feel grateful, and it will add immensely to the favour, if you -can prevent my uncle from pursuing the matter in the manner he seems -inclined to do. Particular circumstances, which I may some time have -an opportunity of explaining, would render it most painful to me to -have the scandalous outrage which was committed upon us last night -dragged into a court of justice; indeed, I think it would half kill -me, especially if I had to give evidence, as I suppose would be the -case."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will do my best," answered Ned Hayward, "but you must not be angry -or surprised, at any means I may take for that purpose. I could act -better, indeed, if I knew the circumstances."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All I can say at present," answered the young lady, in a low tone, -"is, that this was not a case of robbery, as you all seem to suppose."</p> - -<p class="normal">The colour mounted into her cheek as she spoke, and she added quickly, -"I cannot reproach myself with any thing in the affair, Captain -Hayward, although I have scrutinised my own conscience severely; but -yet at the same time, even to have my name talked of in connexion with -such a proceeding, and with such--such a person, would distress me -more than I can describe. I will say more another time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the meanwhile, I will do my best," replied the other, and even -while he was speaking, the roll of wheels was heard driving up to the -door, and a minute or two after, one of the servants entered, -announcing that Mr. Wittingham was in the library.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let him stay, let him stay," said Sir John Slingsby, "he'll have an -opportunity there of improving his mind. What, what do you say?" he -continued, as the man whispered something over his shoulder, "we've -neither secrets of state nor high treason here,--speak out."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Please you, Sir John, two of Mr. Wittingham's men have brought up -Stephen Gimlet, whom they call Wolf, with irons upon him. I have kept -him in the hall."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hang it!" cried Ned Hayward, "my little boy's father. I hope he has -not been doing any serious mischief!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't think it, I don't think it," said Dr. Miles, eagerly, "the -man has a heart and a conscience, a little warped, it is true; but -still sound--sound, I think--I will go and speak to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hang him, he steals my pheasants!" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then why don't you put him to keep them, colonel?" asked Ned Hayward. -"He would make a capital keeper, I am sure. Set a thief to catch a -thief, Sir John."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not a bad idea, Ned," answered the baronet. "Stay, stay, doctor, he's -not condemned yet, and so does not want the parson. We had better talk -to old Wittingham first. We'll have him in and fuddle him. Give my -compliments to Mr. Wittingham, Matthews, and beg him to walk in. You -need not go, Harriet. He's quite a lady's man."</p> - -<p class="normal">But Mrs. Clifford rose, not at all anxious to witness the process of -fuddling a magistrate, and withdrew with her daughter and her niece.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XII.</h4> -<h5>In which the Magistrate is fuddled by the Baronet.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! Wittingham! Wittingham!" cried the baronet, stretching forth his -hand without rising, as the servant introduced the worthy magistrate, -"is that you, my old buck? If you haven't come in pudding-time, -you have come in wine-time, and will get what so few men get in -life,--your dessert. Sit down and pledge me, old fellow. What shall it -be in? Here's port that was bottled when I came of age, so you may -judge that it is good old stuff! Madeira that has made more voyages -than Cook, Comet Claret of 1811, and a bottle of Burgundy that smells -under my nose like oil of violets."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Sir John," replied Mr. Wittingham, taking the seat just left -vacant by Mrs. Clifford, and very well pleased with so familiar a -reception, when he expected quite the reverse; for to say the truth, -although some circumstances had happened to make him resolve upon -taking the bull by the horns, and visiting the old lion of Tarningham -Park in his den, it was nevertheless with great pain and difficulty -that he had screwed his courage to the sticking-point, "why, Sir John, -I come upon business, and it is better to transact affairs of -importance with a clear head."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pooh, nonsense!" exclaimed the baronet; "no man ever did business -well without being half drunk. Look at my old friend Pitt, poor -fellow! and Charley Fox, too, Sir William Scott, and Dundas, and all -of them, not a set of jollier topers in the world than they were, and -are still--what are left of them. Well, here's health to the living -and peace to the dead--Burgundy, eh?" and he filled a glass for Mr. -Wittingham to the brim.</p> - -<p class="normal">The worthy magistrate took it, and drinking Sir John Slingsby's toast -was about to proceed to business, when the baronet again interrupted -him, saying, "Let me introduce you to my friends, Wittingham; there's -no fun in drinking with men you don't know. Dr. Miles you are -acquainted, this is my friend Mr. Beauchamp, and this my friend, -Captain Hayward. Gentlemen both, know, esteem, and admire Henry -Wittingham, Esq., one of the ornaments of the bench of the county -of ----, one of the trustees of the turnpike roads, a very active -magistrate, and a very honest man. Sink the shop, Witty," he -continued, in a friendly whisper to his companion, for Sir John seldom -if ever allowed Mr. Wittingham to escape without some allusion to his -previous occupations, which naturally made that gentleman hate him -mortally. "But before we have another glass, my good friend, I must -make you acquainted with these gentlemen's high qualities," proceeded -the baronet. "Here's Ned Hayward, the most deadly shot in Europe, -whether with pistol, rifle, or fowling-piece, nothing escapes him, -from the human form divine down to a cock-sparrow. The best angler in -England, too; would throw a fly into a tea-spoon at fifty yards -distance. He has come down for an interminable number of months to -catch my trout, kill my game, and drink my Claret. Then there is my -friend Mr. Beauchamp, more sentimentally given, a very learned man and -profound, loves poetry and solitary walks, and is somewhat for musing -melancholy made; but is a good hand at a trigger, too, I can tell -you--a light finger and a steady aim; ha! Beauchamp," and the baronet -winked his eye and laughed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp smiled good-humouredly, and in order to change the course of -the conversation, which was not exactly what suited him, he said that -he had the pleasure of a slight acquaintance with Mr. Wittingham.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward however, somewhat to Beauchamp's surprise, seemed -determined to encourage their host in his light and rattling talk, and -taking the latter up where Sir John had left it, he said, "Oh dear -yes, I dare say we shall have capital sport down here. The old work of -the 51st, Sir John; clearing all the fences, galloping over all the -turnips, riding down the young wheat, forgetting the limits of the -manor, letting the beasts out of the pound, making a collection of -knockers and bell-pulls, fighting the young men, and making love to -the young women--Mr. Wittingham, the wine stands with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham filled his glass and drank, saying with a grave and -somewhat alarmed air, "I don't think that would exactly do in this -county, Sir; the magistrates are rather strict here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The devil they are," said Ned Hayward, with a good deal of emphasis, -the meaning of which Mr. Wittingham could not well help understanding; -but the next moment the young gentleman went on: "but who cares a pin -for magistrates, Mr. Wittingham? They're nothing but a parcel of old -women."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Halo, halo, Ned," cried Sir John, "you forget in whose presence you -are speaking; reverence the bench, young man, reverence the bench; -and if you can't do that, reverence the colonel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, you're a great exception to the general rule," replied Captain -Hayward, "but what I say is very true, nevertheless: and as I like to -define my positions, I will give you a lexicographical description of -the magistrates. They should be called in any dictionary, a body -of men selected from the most ignorant of the people, for the -mal-administration of good laws."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bravo, bravo," shouted Sir John Slingsby, roaring with laughter, and -even Dr. Miles nodded his head with a grave smile, saying, "Too just a -definition indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham looked confounded, but Sir John passed him the bottle, -and for relief he again fell to his glass and emptied it. Now to men -not quite sure of their position, there is nothing so completely -overpowering as jest and merriment with a dash of sarcasm. In grave -argument, where they have their own vanity for their backer, they will -always venture to meet men both of superior abilities and superior -station, whether in so doing they expose themselves or not; for in -that case their notions are generally formed beforehand, and they are -fully convinced that those notions are just; but in a combat of the -wit, it requires to be a very ready man, and also to have all those -habits of society which enable one to make the reply tart enough, with -every semblance of courtesy. On the bench and in the justice-room Mr. -Wittingham would often venture to spar with Sir John Slingsby, and -sometimes with a good deal of success; for although the baronet had -much greater natural abilities and information, yet he had so many -foibles and failings, and occasionally such a degree of perversity, -that from time to time his adversary would get hold of a weak point, -and drive him into a corner. It always ended, however, by Sir John -coming off triumphant; for when he found that argument failed him he -had recourse to ridicule, and in two minutes would utterly confound -his antagonist, and overwhelm him amidst peals of laughter.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the present instance Mr. Wittingham found that Sir John was in one -of his jocular moods, and scarcely dared to say a word lest he should -bring some of his hard jests upon his head, especially when he had the -strong support which Ned Hayward seemed capable of giving. He was -therefore anxious to proceed to the business that brought him as -speedily as possible; and giving up the defence of the magistracy -after a momentary pause, he said, "Really, Sir John, as I must get -home soon--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not till you have finished your bottle, man," cried Sir John -Slingsby, pushing the Burgundy to him; "whoever comes to see me after -dinner, must fight me or drink a bottle with me; so here's to your -health, Witty--a bumper, a bumper, and no heel-taps."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now the glasses at Sir John Slingsby's table might well be called -wine-glasses, for they seldom had any other liquor in them; but at the -same time, in size they were not much less than those vessels which -are named tumblers, I suppose from their being less given to tumbling -than any other sort of glass. Mr. Wittingham had drank three already, -besides the moderate portion which he had taken at his own dinner; but -in order to get rid of the subject, he swallowed another of strong -Burgundy, and then commenced again, saying, "Really, Sir John, we must -go to business. We can sip your good wine while we are talking the -affair over."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sip it!" exclaimed his host, "whoever heard of a man sipping such -stuff as this? Nobody ever sips his wine but some lackadaisical, -lovelorn swain, with a piece of Cheshire cheese before him, making -verses all the time upon pouting lips and rounded hips, and sparkling -eyes and fragrant sighs, and pearly teeth and balmy breath, and -slender nose and cheek that glows, and all the O's! and all the I's! -that ever were twisted into bad metre and had sense; or else the -reformed toper, who is afraid of exceeding the stint that his doctors -have allowed him, and lingers out every drop with the memory of many a -past carouse before his eyes. No, no, such wine as this is made to be -swallowed at a mouthful, washing the lips with a flood of enjoyment, -stimulating the tongue, spreading a glow over the palate, and cooling -the tonsils and the throat only to inflame them again with fresh -appetite for the following glass--sip it! why hang it, Wittingham, it -is to insult a good bottle of wine, and I trust that you may be shot -dead by a Champagne cork to teach you better manners."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then," cried Mr. Wittingham, stimulated to <i>répartee</i> by -impatience, "I will say, Sir John, that we can swill your wine while -we are talking of business."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that's something like," cried Sir John Slingsby, not at all -discomposed, "you shall swill the wine, and I will drink it, that'll -suit us both. Beauchamp we will let off, because he's puny, and Doctor -Miles because he's reverend; Ned Hayward will do us justice, glass for -glass, I'll answer for it. So another bumper, and then to business; -but first we'll have lights, your worship, for it's growing dusky," -and Sir John rose to ring the bell.</p> - -<p class="normal">Scarcely, however, had he quitted his seat, when there was heard a -loud report. One of the panes of glass in the window flew in shining -splinters into the room, and a ball whistling through, passed close to -the head of Mr. Wittingham, knocked off his wig, and lodged in the eye -of a Cupid who was playing with his mother in a large picture on the -other side of the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Zounds!" cried Sir John Slingsby.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XIII.</h4> -<h5>In which better days seem to dawn upon the Poacher.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">A high-sounding oath from Sir John Slingsby passed unnoticed, for -though every one had heard the shot, each person's attention was -suddenly called to an object of his own. Ned Hayward sprang to the -window and looked out, Dr. Miles started up and turned towards Mr. -Wittingham; and Beauchamp, who was sitting next to that gentleman, -suddenly stretched out his hand, and caught him by the arm and -shoulder, so as to break his fall to the ground, though not to stop -it; for the worthy magistrate, with a low exclamation of horror, which -reached no ear but one, pressed his hand upon his heart, and fell -fainting to the ground, just as if the ball, which had entered the -window, had found out the precise spot in his skin, which had not been -dipped in Styx. Nevertheless, when Sir John and Mr. Beauchamp, and Dr. -Miles, lifted him up off the floor, and seated him on his chair again, -though they undoubtedly expected to find one of those small holes -which I should call a life-door, were it not that they never let life -in, if they often let life out, yet no wound of any kind was to be -perceived, except in the wig. Lights were brought, servants hurried in -and out, cold water was sprinkled on the old gentleman's face, the -butler recommended sal volatile, Sir John Slingsby tried brandy; and -at length Mr. Wittingham was brought to himself. Every one was busy -about him but Ned Hayward; and as Ned was a very charitable and -benevolent man, it may be necessary to say why he bestowed no care nor -attention on Mr. Wittingham. The fact was, that he did not know any -thing was the matter with him; for Ned Hayward was no longer in the -room; the window was open, indeed, and Ned Hayward had jumped out.</p> - -<p class="normal">To return to Mr. Wittingham, however, no sooner did he recover breath -enough to articulate, than he declared, in a low voice, he must go -home.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, my dear fellow!" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, "you're not hurt, -only frightened, devilish frightened, that's all, and you're still -white about the gills, and fishy in the eyes. Come, come, finish your -bottle, and get rid of that haddock-look before you go, or you may -faint again in the carriage."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must go home," repeated Mr. Wittingham, in a dismal tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then what's to become of the business you came about?" inquired the -baronet.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must leave it in your hands, Sir John," replied Mr. Wittingham, -rising feebly; "l have no head for it to-night. It was about that -notorious poacher, Gimlet, I came; the constables will tell you how I -happen to have him apprehended; but I must go, I must go, I have no -head for it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Though the bullet kept out, plenty of lead has got in, somehow or -other," muttered Sir John Slingsby, as his fellow-magistrate tottered -towards the door; but the baronet was not a bad-hearted man, and, -taking compassion on Mr. Wittingham's state, he followed him with a -large glass of Madeira, insisted upon his drinking it, and supported -him under the right arm to the hall-door, where he delivered him over -to the hands of the butler to put him safely into his carriage. While -this was being effected, Sir John turned round and gazed upon the -figure of Stephen Gimlet, and the two officers who had him in charge; -and if his look was not peculiarly encouraging to the poacher, it -certainly was much less so towards the constables. To say the truth, a -constable was an animal, towards which, for some reason or another, -Sir John Slingsby entertained a great dislike. It is not impossible -that his old roving propensities, and sundry encounters with the -particular kind of officer which was now under his thumb, had -impressed him with a distaste for the whole species; but, assuredly, -had he been called upon to give a Linæan description of the creature, -it would have been: "A two-legged beast of the species hound, made to -be beaten by blackguards and bullied by magistrates."</p> - -<p class="normal">Waving his hand, therefore, with an air of dignity, over his extended -white waistcoat, he said,--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bring him in," and leading the way back to the dining-room, he seated -himself in his great chair, supported on either side by decanters; and -while the constables were entering, and taking up a position before -him, he pushed a bottle either way, to Dr. Miles and Mr. Beauchamp, -saying, in as solemn a tone as if he were delivering sentence of -death, "A bumper, gentlemen, for a toast--now Master Leathersides, why -do you bring this man before me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, please your worship's honour," replied the constable, "we -apprehended him for poaching in the streets of Tarningham, and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Halloah!" cried Sir John, "poaching in the streets of Tarningham, -that's a queer place to set springes. Leathersides, you're drunk."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No please your honour's worship, I arn't," whimpered the constable, -who would at any time rather have been sent for a week to prison, than -be brought up before Sir John Slingsby; "I said, as how we apprehended -him in the streets of Tarningham, not as he was a-poaching there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then where was he poaching when you apprehended him?" demanded Sir -John, half in fun, half in malice, and with a full determination of -puzzling the constable.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can't say he was poaching anywhere just then," replied Mr. -Leathersides.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you'd no business to apprehend him," replied the baronet, -"discharge the prisoner, and evacuate the room. Gentlemen, are you -charged? The king, God bless him!" and he swallowed down his glass of -wine, winking his eye to Beauchamp, at what he thought his good joke -against the constables.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Leathersides, however, was impressed with a notion, that he must -do his duty, and that that duty was to remonstrate with Sir John -Slingsby; therefore, after a portentous effort, he brought forth the -following words:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, Sir John, when we'd a got 'un, Mr. Wittingham said we were to -keep un'."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where's your warrant?" thundered Sir John.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can't say we've got one," said the other constable, for Mr. -Leathersides was exhausted.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you apprehended him illegally," said Sir John Slingsby, -magisterially, "you detained him still more illegally. Leathersides, -you're a fool. Mr. What's-your-name, you're an ass. You've both -violated the law, and I've a great mind to fine you both--a bumper--so -I will, by Jove. Come here and drink the king's health;" and Sir John -laughed heartily while inflicting this very pleasant penalty, as they -thought it, upon the two constables; but resolved to carry the joke -out, the baronet, as soon as the men had swallowed the wine, -exclaimed, in a pompous tone: "Stephen Gimlet, you are charged with -poaching in the streets of Tarningham, and convicted on the sufficient -testimony of two constables. Appear before the court to receive -sentence. Prisoner, your sentence is this; that you be brought up to -this table, and there to gulp down, at a single and uninterrupted -draught, one glass of either of those two liquors called Port or -Madeira, at the discretion of the court, to the health of our -sovereign lord the king; and that, having so done, you shall be -considered to have made full and ample satisfaction for the said -offence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"With all my heart, Sir," said Ste Gimlet, taking the glass of wine -which Sir John Slingsby offered him. "Here's to the king, God bless -him! and may he give us many such magistrates as Sir John Slingsby."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir, I've a great mind to fine you another bumper for adding to my -toast," exclaimed the baronet; and then, waving his hand to the -constables, he continued: "Be off, the prisoner is discharged; you've -nothing more to do with him--stay here, Master Gimlet, I've something -to say to you;" and when the door was shut, he continued, with a very -remarkable change of voice and manner: "Now, my good friend, I wish to -give you a little bit of warning. As I am Lord of the Manor for many -miles round the place where you live, the game you have taken must be -mine, and, therefore, I have thought myself justified in treating the -matter lightly, and making a joke of it. You may judge, however, from -this, that I speak disinterestedly, and as your friend, when I point -out to you, that if you follow the course you are now pursuing, it -will inevitably lead you on to greater offences. It will deprave your -mind, teach you to think wrong right, to resist by violence the -assertion of the law, and, perhaps, in the end, bring you to the awful -crime of murder, which, whether it be punished in this world or not, -is sure to meet its retribution hereafter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my life and soul, Sir John," said Ste Gimlet, earnestly, "I will -never touch a head of game of yours again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nor any one else's, I hope," answered Sir John Slingsby, "you are an -ingenious fellow I have heard, and can gain your bread by better -means."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How?" inquired the man, emphatically; but the moment after he added, -"I will try at all events. This very morning, I was thinking I would -make a change, and endeavour to live like other people; but then I -fancied it would be of no use. First, people would not employ me, and -I feared to try them. Next, I feared myself; for I have led a wild -rambling kind of life, and have got to love it better than any other. -If there were a chance of men treating me kindly and giving me -encouragement, it might answer; but if I found all faces looking cold -on me, and all hearts turned away from me, though perhaps I have -deserved it, I am afraid I should just fall back into my old ways -again. However, I will try--I will try for the child's sake, though it -will be a hard struggle at first, I am sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir John Slingsby laid his finger upon his temple and thought for a -moment. He had been serious for a long while--fully five minutes--and -he had some difficulty in keeping up his grave demeanour; but that was -not all: some words which Ned Hayward had let fall almost at random, -suggested a plan to his mind which he hesitated whether he should -adopt or not. Perhaps--though he was a kind-hearted man, as we have -seen and said before--he might have rejected it, had it not been for -its oddity; but it was an odd plan, and one that jumped with his -peculiar humour. He was fond of doing all sorts of things that other -men would not do, just because they would not--of trying experiments -that they dared not try--of setting at defiance every thing which had -only custom and convention for its basis; and, therefore, after an -instant's meditation, given to the consideration of whether people -would suppose he was actuated by benevolence or eccentricity (he would -not have had them think he did an odd thing from benevolence for the -world), he went on as the whim prompted to reply to Stephen Gimlet's -last words, mingling a high degree of delicacy of feeling with his -vagaries, in the strangest manner possible, as the reader will see.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well Ste," he said, "perhaps we may make it less of a struggle than -you think. I'll tell you what, my fine fellow, you're very fond of -game--a little too fond perhaps. Now, my friend, Ned Hayward--that's -to say, Captain Hayward. Where the deuce he has gone to?--I don't -known--ran after the clumsy fellow, I suppose, who fired through the -window and missed the deer too, I'll be bound. It must have been -Conolly, the underkeeper; nobody but Conolly would have thought of -firing right towards the window--but as I was saying, my friend, Ned -Hayward, said just now that you'd make a capital keeper. What do you -think of it, Gimlet? Wouldn't it do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not under Mr. Hearne, Sir," answered Ste Gimlet. "We've had too many -squabbles together;" and he shook his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, that would never do," replied Sir John, laughing; "you'd soon -have your charges in each other's gizzards. But you know Denman died a -week ago, over at the Trottington Hall manor, on t'other side of the -common--you know it, you dog--you know it well enough, I can see by -the twinkling of your eye. I dare say you have looked into every nest -on the manor, since the poor fellow was bagged by the grim archer. -Well, but as I was saying, there's the cottage empty and eighteen -shillings a week, and you and Hearne can run against each other, and -see which will give us the best day's sport at the end of the year. -What do you say, Gimlet? you can go and take possession of the cottage -this very night; I don't want it to stand empty an hour longer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you a thousand times, Sir John," said the man heartily; "you -are a kind gentleman indeed, but I must go up to my own place first. -There's my little boy, you know. Poor little man, I dare say he has -cried his heart out."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pooh, nonsense, not a bit," said the baronet, "I'll take care of all -that. I'll send up and have him fetched."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man smiled and shook his bread, saying, "He would not come with a -stranger."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What will you bet?" cried Sir John Slingsby, laughing. "I'll bet you -a guinea against your last ferret, that he'll come directly. Here, -Matthew--Moore--Harrison," he continued, first ringing the bell, and -then opening the door to call, "some of you d--d fellows run up and -bring Ste Gimlet's little boy. Tell him, his daddy's here," and Sir -John Slingsby sat down and laughed prodigiously, adding every now and -then, "I'll take any man five guineas of it that he comes."</p> - -<p class="normal">There is an exceedingly good old English expression, which smart -people have of late years banished from polite prose, but which I -shall beg leave to make use of here. Sir John Slingsby then was known -to be a <i>comical fellow</i>. Stephen Gimlet was well aware that such was -the case; and though he thought the joke was a somewhat extravagant -one, to send a man-servant up to the moor at that hour of the evening, -to fetch down his little boy, yet still he thought it a joke. His only -anxiety, however, was to prevent its being carried too far, and, -therefore, after twirling his hat about for a minute in silence, he -said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Sir John, perhaps if he's told I am here, he may come; but now -I recollect, I locked the door; and besides, there are all my things -to be fetched down; so if you will be kind enough to give me till -to-morrow, Sir, I will accept your bounty with a grateful heart, and -do my best to deserve it--and I am sure I am most grateful to the -gentleman who first spoke of such a thing. I am, indeed," he added, -with some degree of hesitation, and cheek rather reddened; for while -Sir John was still laughing heartily, he saw that Mr. Beauchamp's fine -lustrous eyes were fixed upon him with a look of deep interest, and -that Doctor Miles was blowing his nose violently, while his eyelids -grew rather red.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't doubt it in the least, Ste," said Sir John; "Ned Hayward is a -very good fellow--a capital fellow--you owe him a great deal, I can -tell you. There! there!" he continued, as the door opened to give -admission to the servant, "I told you he would come--didn't I tell -you? There he is, you see!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Stephen Gimlet gazed for an instant in silent astonishment when he -beheld the boy in the butler's arms, wrapped warmly up in the -housekeeper's shawl; for at Sir John's indisputable commands, they had -taken him from his bed. He was confounded: he was one thunderstruck; -but the moment after, the child, recovering from the first dazzling -effect of the light, held out his little hands to his father with a -cry of delight, exclaiming, "There's my daddy, there's my daddy!" and -the poacher sprang forward and caught him to his heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir John Slingsby was himself overset by what he had done: the tears -started in his eyes; but still he laughed louder than ever; -out-trumpeted Doctor Miles with blowing his nose, wiped away the tears -with the back of his hand, put on his spectacles to hide them, and -then looked over the spectacles to see Ste Gimlet and his boy.</p> - -<p class="normal">The child was nestling on his father's breast and prattling to him; -but in a moment the man started and turned pale, exclaiming, -"Fire!--the place burnt! What in Heaven's name does he mean?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, there!" cried Doctor Miles, coming forward and making the man -sit down, seeing that he looked as ghastly as the dead, with strong -emotion. "Don't be alarmed, Stephen. Don't be agitated. Lift up the -voice of praise and thanksgiving to God, for a great mercy shown you -this day, not alone in having saved your child from a terrible death, -but in having sent you a warning with a most lenient hand, which will -assuredly make you a better man for all your future days. Lift up the -voice of praise, I say, from the bottom of your heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do indeed!" cried the poacher, "I do indeed!" and bending down his -head upon the boy's neck, he wept. "But how did it happen?--how could -it happen?" he continued, after a while, "and how, how was he saved?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Ned Hayward saved him, to be sure," cried the baronet. "Gallant -Ned Hayward--who but he? He saw the place burning from the top of the -barrow, man, rushed in, burnt himself, and brought out the boy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God bless him! God bless him!" cried the father. "But the fire," he -added, "how could the place take fire?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That nasty cross man set it on fire, daddy, I'm sure," said the boy; -"the man that was there this morning. He came when you were away, and -he wouldn't answer when I called, and I saw him go away, through the -peep-hole, with a lighted stick in his mouth. I didn't do it indeed, -daddy."</p> - -<p class="normal">A glimpse of the truth presented itself to Stephen Gimlet's mind; and -though he said nothing, he clenched one hand tight, so tight that the -print of the nails remained in the palm; but then his thoughts turned -to other things, and rising up out of the chair in which Doctor Miles -had placed him, he turned to Sir John Slingsby, and said, "Oh, Sir, I -wish I could say how much I thank you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, there, Stephen," replied the baronet, waving his hand kindly, -"no more about it. You have lost one house and you have got another; -you have given up one trade and taken a better. Your boy is safe and -well; so as the good doctor says, praise God for all. Take another -glass of wine, and when you have talked a minute with the little man, -give him back to the housekeeper. He shall be well taken care of till -you are settled, and in the meantime you can go down to the Marquis of -Granby in the village, and make yourself comfortable till to-morrow. -Hang me if I drink any more wine to-night. All this is as good as a -bottle;" and Sir John rose to join the ladies.</p> - -<p class="normal">The other two gentlemen very willingly followed his example; but -before they went, Beauchamp, who had had his pocket-book in his hand -for a minute or two, took a very thin piece of paper out of it, and -went round to Stephen Gimlet.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have lost all your furniture, I am afraid," he said, in a low -voice; "there is something to supply its place with more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord bless you, Sir, what was my furniture worth?" said the poacher, -looking at the note in his hand, with a melancholy smile; but by that -time Beauchamp was gone.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XIV.</h4> -<h5>The Pursuit.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"I wonder where the deuce Ned Hayward can be gone," was the -exclamation of Sir John Slingsby about ten o'clock at night when -he found that his young guest did not reappear; and so do I wonder, -and perhaps so does the reader too. It will therefore be expedient, -in order to satisfy all parties, to leave the good people at -Tarningham-park and pursue our friend at once, for we have no time to -spare if we would catch him. He is a desperate hard rider when there -is any object in view, and he certainly left the park on horseback.</p> - -<p class="normal">When last we saw him, the hour was about half-past seven or a quarter -to eight, night was beginning to fall, and without doing any thing -figurative in regard to the evening--without comparing the retiring -rays of light to the retreat of a defeated army, or the changing -colour of the sky to the contents of a London milkmaid's pail under -the influence of the pump--we may be permitted to say that the heavens -were getting very gray; the rose and the purple had waned, and night, -heavy night, was pouring like a deluge through the air. Nevertheless, -the night was fine, a star or two shone out, and the moment Ned -Hayward sprang to the window through which the ball had come, he saw a -figure hurrying away through the trees at the distance of about three -hundred yards. They were fine old trees with no underwood--English -park trees, wide apart, far-spreading, gigantic; and Ned Hayward -paused an instant to gaze after he had jumped out of the window, and -then took to his heels and ran on as fast as a pair of long, strong, -well-practised legs would carry him. There was turf below him and his -feet fell lightly, but he had not gained more than fifty yards upon -the figure when he saw through the bolls another figure not human but -equine. For a short distance the person he pursued did not seem aware -that he had a follower, but before the time arrived when the horse -became apparent some indications seemed to reach his ear, and, if Ned -Hayward ran quick, the other seemed to run nearly as fast. When the -young gentleman was within about a hundred yards of him, however, the -man was upon the horse's back and galloping away.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward stopped and followed him with his eyes, marking the course -he took as far as the light would permit. He then listened, and heard -the noise of the horse's feet distinctly beating the ground in one -direction. The next moment the sounds became confused with others, as -if another horse were near, and turning round to the road which led -from the gate on the side of Tarningham, the young officer saw a -mounted man coming slowly up towards the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By Jove, this is lucky!" said Ned Hayward, as he recollected having -heard Sir John Slingsby tell a groom to carry a note to Mr. Wharton, -the lawyer: and running down to the road as fast as possible, he -stopped the servant, and bade him dismount and let him have the horse -immediately.</p> - -<p class="normal">The groom recognised his master's guest; but he had some hesitation, -and began his reply with a "Please, Sir--" But Ned cut him short at -once, in a very authoritative tone; and in two minutes he was in the -saddle. He paused not an instant to think, for calculation was a very -rapid process with him, and, during his morning's rambles, he had -marked, with a soldier's eye, all the bearings and capabilities of the -park and the ground round about it. The result of his combinations was -thus expressed upon the mental tablet, or nearly thus:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"The fellow cannot get out by the way he has taken; for there is no -gate, and the park paling is planted at the top of the high bank, so -that no man in England dare leap it. He must take to the right or -left. On the left he will be checked by the river and the thick copse -which would bring him round close to the house again. He will, -therefore, take to the right, and pass the gates on the top of the -hill. He must come down half way to the other gates, however, before -he can get out of the lane; and I shall not be much behind him."</p> - -<p class="normal">He rode straight, therefore, to the gates on the Tarningham side, -passed them, turned sharp to the left, galloped up the sandy lane -under the park wall, and blessed his stars as he saw the edge of the -moon beginning to show itself in the east.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hang me if I give up the chase till I have run him down," said Ned -Hayward; but when a man sets out hunting a fox with such a -determination, he never knows how far the fox or the determination may -lead him. Away he went, however, like a shot. The horse was a strong, -well-built cob, of about fourteen hands three, which had been -accustomed to bear the great bulk and heavy riding of Sir John -Slingsby to cover; and it sprang out under the lighter weight and -better balance of the younger man, as if it had a feather on its back. -Up this hill they went, all gathered together like a woolpack: an easy -hand, an easy seat, and an exact poise, made the rider feel to the -beast not half his real weight; and, in two minutes, Ned Hayward's -quick ear caught the sound of other hoofs besides those underneath -him. "I shall have him now!" he said; but suddenly the sounds became -fainter. Three springs more and he had the horseman before him; but at -a hundred and fifty yards' distance, going over the moor. There was a -fence and ditch on the right hand; and Ned Hayward pushed his horse at -them. The good little beast rose gallantly by the moonlight; but there -was a ditch on the other side also, which neither saw. He cleared it -with his fore-feet, but his hind went in, and over he came sprawling. -Neither rider nor beast were hurt; and Ned Hayward picked him up in a -minute, and away again.</p> - -<p class="normal">The fugitive had gained ground, nevertheless, and was shooting off -like a falling star; but the moonlight was now bright, lying in long -misty lines upon the moor. A few rapid steps brought them to the sandy -road, and on--on they dashed as if for life. On, however, dashed the -other horseman likewise. He knew the ground well, his horse was good, -he really rode for life. It was as even a race as ever was seen. The -wide moor extended for miles, every tree and bush was visible, and -even the distant belts of planting where the common ended on the right -could be seen lying black and heavy against the moonlight sky; but yet -there was a darkness over the ground which showed that it was not day; -and still, as he urged the willing beast forward, Ned Hayward kept a -ready hand upon the bridle in case of need. Soon he thought he gained -upon the other, but then he saw him turn from the sandy road and take -over the turf to the left. Ned Hayward ran across, and pressed hard -the beast's sides. On, on they went; but the next instant the ground -seemed darker before him, and the pursuer checked up his horse -suddenly upon the very edge of a deep pit, while the other rode on -unobstructed on the further side.</p> - -<p class="normal">Not more than a moment was lost or gained, however, for turning -quickly round the edge of the pit, though keeping a sharper eye upon -the ground than before, Ned Hayward still followed a diagonal course, -which saved him as much of the distance between him and the fugitive -as he had lost by the temporary check. When he, too, had got to the -other side of the pit, the space between them was about the same that -it had been at first, but the ground sloped gently downward, and then -spread out in a perfect flat with neither trees nor bushes, although -some thick rushy spots assumed here and there the appearance of -bunches of bramble, or bilberry, but afforded no interruption to the -horses' speed, and on they went, helter skelter, over the moor, as if -the great enemy were behind them.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a few minutes a light was visible on the right, and Ned Hayward -said to himself, "He is making for some house;" but the next instant -the light moved, flitting along from spot to spot, with a blue, -wavering, uncertain flame, and with a low laugh, the young gentleman -muttered, "A will-o'-the-wisp, that shan't lead me astray this time at -least."</p> - -<p class="normal">On he dashed keeping the horseman before him; but ere he had passed -the meteor a hundred yards, he felt the pace of his horse uneasy, the -ground seemed to quiver and shake under his rapid footfalls, and a -plashy sound was heard, as if the hoofs sank into a wet and marshy -soil.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A shaking bog, upon my life," said Ned Hayward, "but as he has gone -over it, so can I."</p> - -<p class="normal">With his horse's head held lightly up, his heels into its sides, the -bridle shaken every minute to give him courage, and a loud "Tally ho!" -as if he were in sight of a fox, on went Ned Hayward with the water -splashing up around him till the hoofs fell upon firmer ground, and a -slight slope upwards caught the moonlight, and showed the fugitive -scampering away with a turn to the right.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hoiks, hoiks! haloo!" cried Ned Hayward, applying the flat of his -hand to the horse's flank, and, as if inspired by the ardour of the -chase, the brave little beast redoubled its efforts, and strained up -the hill after the larger horse, gaining perceptibly upon it.</p> - -<p class="normal">Clear and full in the moonlight the dark figure came out from the sky -as he cleared the edge of the hill, and in two seconds, or not much -more, Ned Hayward gained the same point.</p> - -<p class="normal">The figure was no longer visible. It had disappeared as if by magic; -horse and rider were gone together, and all that could be seen was the -gentle slope downward that lay at the horse's feet, a darkish spot -beyond, which the moon's rays did not reach, and then the moor -extending for about a couple of miles further, marked in its -undulations by strong light and shade.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, what the devil is this?" exclaimed Ned Hayward; but though he -sometimes indulged in an exclamation, he never let astonishment stop -him, and seeing that if the figure had taken a course to the right or -left he must have caught sight of it, he rode straight at the dark -spot in front, and found that it consisted of one of the large pits, -with which the moor was spotted, filled to the very top of the banks -with low stunted oaks, ashes, and birch trees.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Earthed him! earthed him!" said Ned Hayward, as he looked round, but -he made no further observation, and soon perceived the sandy cart-road -which the man must have taken to descend into the pit.</p> - -<p class="normal">The young gentleman was now a little puzzled; the natural pertinacity -and impetuosity of his disposition would have led him to plunge in -after the object of his chase, like a terrier dog after a badger, but -then he saw that by so doing, the man, who knew the ground apparently -much better than he did, would have the opportunity of doubling upon -him and escaping his pursuit, while he was losing himself among the -trees and paths. Rapid in all his calculations, and seeing that the -extent of the hollow was not very great, so that by the aid of the -moonlight, any figure which issued forth would become visible to him -as long as he remained above, Ned Hayward trotted round the edge of -the pit to make himself perfectly sure that there was no small path or -break in the banks, by which the object he had lodged in the bushes -beneath him, might effect its flight without his perceiving it. Having -ascertained this fact, he took up his position on the highest ground -near, that he might command the whole scene round, and then -dismounting, led his horse up and down to cool it gradually, saying to -himself, "I will stop here all night rather than lose him. Some -persons must come by in the morning who will help mc to beat the -bushes."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward concluded his reflections, however, with a sentence which -seemed to have very little connexion with them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She's an exceedingly pretty girl," he said, "and seems to be as -amiable as she is pretty, but I can't let that stop me."</p> - -<p class="normal">I do not at all understand what he meant, but perhaps the reader may -find some sense in it. But while he was reflecting on pretty girls, -and combining them in the honestest way possible with his hunt after a -man who had fired a shot into the window of Tarningham House, an -obtrusive recollection crossed his mind that moons will go down, and -that then wide open moors with many a shaking bog and pitfall were not -the most lustrous and well-lighted places upon earth, which -remembrance or reflection puzzled him most exceedingly. Though we have -never set up Ned Hayward for a conjuror, he was an exceedingly clever, -dashing, and amiable person; but he was far from being either a -magician or an astronomer, and not having an almanack in his pocket, -nor able to read it if he had, he was not at all aware of the hour at -which the moon went down. He saw, indeed, that she had already passed -her prime, and was verging towards decline, and it was with a very -unpleasant sensation that he thought, "Hang her old untidy horns, she -will be gone before the day breaks, and a pleasant dark place it will -be when she no longer gives me light. I will stop and watch, however, -but I must change my tactics, and hide under the hill. Perhaps he may -think I am gone, and come out with fresh courage. The young -blackguard! it would be a good turn to all the world to hang him, if -it is but to prevent him marrying such a nice girl as that, who is a -great deal too good for him. He won't thank me, however, for my -pains."</p> - -<p class="normal">This thought, somehow or other, was not pleasant to our friend Ned -Hayward, and, indeed, like most of us, in many even of the ordinary -circumstances of life, he was affected by very different emotions. Why -it was, or wherefore, he could not tell, but he had been seized with a -strong inclination to hang, or otherwise dispose of any gentleman whom -he could suspect of being a favoured lover of Mary Clifford's; and, -yet on the other hand he had every disposition in the world to oblige -Mary Clifford himself. These two objects seemed incompatible, but -there is a fashion in the world which has a strange knack of trying to -overcome impossibilities, and sometimes succeeds too--at least in -overcoming those things which fathers and mothers, relations, -guardians and friends, have pronounced to be insurmountable. At all -events Ned Hayward made up his mind that it was his duty not to -abandon his pursuit so long as there was a chance of its being -successful, and, consequently, he drew his horse a little further from -the edge of the pit, as soon as he had considered the peculiar -circumstances of Mistress Moon, and endeavoured to keep out of sight -as far as possible, while he himself watched eagerly, with nothing but -his head as far as the eyes above the edge of the acclivity.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fancy is a wonderful thing, and it has been accounted for some people -as good as physic. I should say it was better for most men, but yet, -taken in too large doses it is dangerous, very dangerous. Now Ned -Hayward had, that night, taken too large a dose, and the effect was -this: he imagined he was perfectly well acquainted with the figure, -person, and appearance of the horseman whom he had hunted from under -the walls of Tarningham-park to the spot where he then stood, with his -horse's bridle over his arm. He could have sworn to him!--very lucky -it was that nobody called upon him to do so, as he found out within a -quarter of an hour afterwards. Fancy painted his face and his figure, -and a tremendous black eye, and a bruised cut down the side of his -nose. Now as the man lay there quietly ensconced in the pit, his face -was very different, his figure not at all the same, and no black eye, -no bruised cut, gave evidence of the scuffle which took place two -nights before. It was, in fact, quite a different person, and all the -young gentleman's calculations were wrong together. It is a very happy -thing indeed for a man in the wrong, when he acts in the same manner -as he would if he were right. His doing so, it is true, sometimes -proceeds from good sense, sometimes from good feeling, sometimes from -fortunate circumstances, but, at all events, such was Ned Hayward's -case in the present instance, for he had made up his mind to remain -upon the watch, and he would have watched as zealously and only a -little more pleasantly, if he had known perfectly well who the man -was, instead of mistaking him for another. When he had remained about -seven minutes and a half, however--I cannot speak to a few seconds -more or less, and a slight mistake will make no great difference, as -the first heat was over, and our friends were only taking breathing -time; but when he had remained for about seven minutes and a half, his -horse shied at something behind him, and when the young gentleman -turned round, he perceived a long shadow cross the space of moonlight -on the common, showing that some living object was moving in a -slanting direction between him and the south-western side of the sky. -The first question he asked himself was naturally, who he could be, -and the first answer that suggested itself was, "Perhaps one of this -fellow's comrades."</p> - -<p class="normal">Two to one, however, were not odds that at all daunted our young -friend; and turning quite round, for an instant he looked at the -figure as it came down, and then directed his eyes towards the edge of -the pit again. He kept a sharp look upon the approaching party, -however, nor, though the step upon the soft turf made no great sound, -his eyes were suddenly brought round upon the visitor of his solitary -watch, when about ten yards still remained between them. The moon now -served our good friend as well as if he had been a lover, showing him -distinctly the face, features, and figure of the person before him, -and he instantly exclaimed,--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Stephen, this is lucky! What brought you here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Sir," answered the man, "this is part of my beat, and as soon as -I had got some supper down at the village, as it is not fair to take a -gentleman's money without doing something for it, and as I am rather -accustomed to a walk on a moonlight night, I might as well just come -out to see that all is safe. I can guess what brought you here, for -Ned, the groom, told me you had taken his horse and were off like a -shot."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush," said Ned Hayward, "don't speak so loud, my good fellow; I have -earthed him amongst those trees in the pit there, but I could not dig -him out, for I was afraid he would escape one way while I was hunting -him the other."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! ah! you have got him, then?" said Gimlet, "then, that's a piece -of luck. If he swings it will be no bad job; a bloody-minded -scoundrel!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward was somewhat surprised to hear his friend Wolf qualify by -so unsavoury an epithet a gentleman, whose friend and companion he had -very lately been; the young officer, however, knew a good deal of the -world and the world's ways, and he was not at all inclined to honour -the ci-devant poacher for so sudden a change of opinion. His first -thought was, this man must be a scoundrel at heart, after all, to -abuse a man whom he has been consorting with in this manner, without -any motive for so doing, except the simple fact of a change in his own -avocations. If he thought young Wittingham a very respectable person -two or three hours ago, when he himself was only Wolf the poacher, I -do not understand why he should judge him a bloody-minded villain, now -that he himself has become Stephen Gimlet, second keeper to Sir John -Slingsby. This does not look like honesty.</p> - -<p class="normal">A second thought, however, upon all he had seen of the man's -character, the frankness, the hardihood, even the dogged determination -he had shown induced Captain Hayward to say to himself, "The fellow -can't know who it is;" and as thought is a very rapid thing, he -replied with a perceptible pause, "Yes, I have got him, safe and sure, -and if you'll help he cannot get away. You guess who he is, I dare -say, Stephen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"O, to be sure, Sir," answered Gimlet; "it is that young scoundrel, -Harry Wittingham. Bad's the crow and bad's the egg," he continued, -without knowing he was using a Greek proverb, "I suppose it can be no -one else; for I heard from the old housekeeper down in the town, that -he swore like fury that he would have vengeance on his father if he -laid the information against him before Sir John."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" said Ned Hayward; "but then," he thought, "l am rather hard -upon the man too. The idea of any one in cold blood firing a shot at -his own father is certainly enough to rouse the indignation and -disgust even of men who would wink at, or take part in, lesser crimes -to which they are more accustomed. Come, Stephen," he continued aloud, -"now you are here, we may do better than I could alone. Let us see -what is to be done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"O, we'll soon manage it, Sir," answered Wolf, "I know every bit of -the pit well enough; there is but one place he can go to with his -horse, and but one road up the bank. He can round the inside of the -pit two ways, sure enough, but what we had best do is, to go in till -we can see what he is about, and then have a rush upon him together or -separate, or out him off either way."</p> - -<p class="normal">Captain Hayward agreed in this view of the case, and after a few more -words of consultation, the horse was fastened to a scraggy hawthorn -tree, and stooping down as low as possible to conceal their approach, -Captain Hayward and his companion advanced along the cart-road down -into the pit. The moment after they began to descend, the bank on the -right cast a shadow over them, which favoured their operations, and -Gimlet, taking the lead, crept silently along a path which had once -served for the waggons that carried the sand out of the pit, but was -now overgrown with grass and hemmed in with bushes, shrubs, and trees -of forty or fifty years growth. No moonlight penetrated there, and all -was dark, gloomy, and intricate. Now the path turned to the right, now -to the left, then proceeded straight forward again, and then began to -mount a little elevation in the surface, or floor, as the miners would -call it, of the pit itself, still thickly surrounded by green shrubs, -through which, however, the slanting beams of the moon were shining -over the edge of the pit. Stephen Gimlet's steps became even still -more quiet and cautious, and he whispered to Ned Hayward to walk -lightly for fear the fugitive should catch a sound of their approach, -and make his escape. Each step occupied several seconds, so carefully -was it planted; the slight rustling of the leaves, catching upon their -clothes, and each falling back upon a branch, which, pushed aside as -they passed, was dashed back upon those behind, made them pause and -listen, thinking that the object of their eager pursuit must have -caught the sound as well as their own nearer ears. At length Stephen -Gimlet stopped, and putting back his hand, helped his companion aloof -for an instant, while he leaned forward and brought his eyes close to -a small hole between the branches. Then, drawing Ned Hayward forward, -he pointed in the same direction in which he had been looking, with -his right finger, and immediately laid it upon his lips as a token to -be silent. Ned Hayward bent his head and gazed through the aperture as -his companion had done. The scene before him was a very peculiar one. -In broken beams, filtered, as we may call it, by the green leaves and -higher branches, the moonlight was streaming upon a small open space, -where the ground rose into a swelling knoll, covered with green turf -and moss. There was one small birch-tree in the midst, and a hawthorn -by its side, but all the rest was clear, and on the right hand could -be seen, marked out by the yellow sand, the cart-road which led to the -moor above. Standing close to the two little trees was a horse, a -fine, strong, powerful bay, with a good deal of bone and sinew, long -in the reach, but what is unusual in horses of that build, with a -chine and shoulder like those of a wild boar. Close to the horse, with -the bridle thrown over his arm, and apparently exceedingly busy upon -something he was doing, stood a tall, powerful man, whose face, from -the position in which he had placed himself, could not be seen; his -back, in short, was towards Ned Hayward and his companion, but from -under his left arm protruded part of the stock of a gun, which a -moonbeam that fell upon it, showed as plainly as the daylight could -have done. From the position in which he held the firelock it seemed -to Ned Hayward as if he were attending to the priming, and the moment -afterwards the click of the pan showed that the supposition was -correct.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the same time this sound met his ear the young gentleman was drawn -gently back by the hand of his companion, and the latter whispered, -"That's Harry Wittingham's horse, I'd swear to him amongst a thousand, -but that's not Henry Wittingham himself, of that I'm quite sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot see his face," answered Ned Hayward, in the same low tone, -"but the figure seems to me very much the same."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush! he's moving," said the man; "better let us go round and cut him -off by either road, you to the right and I to the left--straight -through that little path there--we shall have a shot for it, but we -must not mind that--see he is looking at his girths."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man whom they spoke of had seemed perfectly unconscious of the -presence of any such unwelcome visitors near him. His motions were all -slow and indifferent, till the last words had passed Stephen Gimlet's -lips; then, however, he turned suddenly round, displaying a face that -Captain Hayward did not at all recollect, and gazing direct to the -spot where they stood, he raised his gun, already cocked, to his -shoulder, and fired.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fortunately, it so happened that Ned Hayward had taken one step in the -direction which his companion had pointed out, otherwise the ball, -with which the piece was charged, would have passed right through his -breast. As it was, it grazed his left arm, leaving a slight flesh -wound, and, seeing that they were discovered, both he and Stephen -Gimlet dashed straight through the trees towards the object of their -pursuit. He, in the meantime, had put his foot in the stirrup, and -sprung upon his horse's back. One rushed at him on either side, but -perchance, at all hazards and at all events, without a moment's -consideration, the man dashed at the poacher, brandishing the gun -which he held in his hand like a club. As he came up without giving -ground an inch, Stephen clutched at his bridle, receiving a tremendous -blow with the stock of his gun, and attempting to parry it with his -left hand. The man raised his rein, however, at the same moment he -struck the blow, and Stephen missed the bridle. He struck at him, with -his right, however, in hope of bringing him from his horse, and with -such force and truth did he deliver his reply to the application of -the gun-stock, that the man bent down to the horse's mane, but at the -same time he struck his spurs deep into the beast's flanks, passed his -opponent with a spring, and galloped up to the moor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am away after him," cried Ned Hayward, and darting along the road -like lightning, he gained the common, unhooked his own horse from the -tree, and recommenced the pursuit with the same figure still flying -before him.</p> - -<p class="normal">The steep rise of the pit had somewhat blown the fugitive's horse, and -for the first hundred yards or so Captain Hayward gained upon him, but -he soon brought all his knowledge of the country to bear, every pond, -every bank, every quagmire, gave him some advantage, and when, at the -end of about ten minutes, they neared the plantations at the end of -the moor, he was considerably further from his pursuers than when -their headlong race began. At length he disappeared where the road led -in amongst trees and hedgerows, and any further chase seemed to -promise little. Ned Hayward's was a sadly persevering disposition, -however; he had an exceedingly great dislike to be frustrated in any -thing, and on he therefore rode without drawing a rein, thinking, "in -this more populous part of the country I shall surely meet with some -whom he has passed, and who will give me information."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a wonderfully solitary, a thinly peopled district, however, -which lay on the other side of the moor from Tarningham. They went -early to bed, too, in that part of the world, and not a living soul -did Ned Hayward meet for a full mile up the long lane. At the end of -that distance, the road branched into three, and in the true spirit of -knight-errantry, the young gentleman threw down his rein on the -horse's neck, leaving it to carry him on in search of adventures, -according to its own sagacity. The moor was about four miles and a -half across; but in the various turnings and windings they had taken, -now here now there upon its surface, horse and man had contrived to -treble that distance, or perhaps something more. There had been a trot -to the town before and back again, a hand-canter through the park, and -then a tearing burst across the moor. The horse therefore thought, -with some reason, that there had been enough of riding and being -ridden for one night, and as soon as Ned Hayward laid down the reins -it fell from a gallop to a canter, from a canter to a trot, and was -beginning to show an inclination to a walk, if not to stand still, -when Ned Hayward requested it civilly with his heels to go on a little -faster. It had now selected its path, however, remembering Ovid's -axiom, that the middle of the road is the safest. This was all that -Ned Hayward could have desired at its hands, if it had had any; but of -its hoofs he required that they should accelerate their motions, and -on he went again at a rapid pace, till, suddenly turning into a high -road, he saw nearly before him on the left hand, six large elms in a -row, with a horse-trough under the two nearest; an enormous sign -swinging between the two central trees, and an inn, with four steps up -to the door, standing a little back from the road.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a good light streaming from some of the windows; the moon -was shining clear, but the dusty old elms were thick with foliage, -which effectually screened the modest figures on the sign from the -garish beams of either the domestic or the celestial luminary.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward drew in his rein as soon as he beheld the inn and its -accompaniments; then approached softly, paused to consider, and -ultimately rode into the court-yard, without troubling the people of -the house with any notification of his arrival. He found two men in -the yard in stable dresses, who immediately approached with somewhat -officious civility, saying, "Take your horse, Sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">And Ned Hayward, dismounting slowly, like a man very much tired, gave -his beast into their hands, and affected to saunter quietly back to -the inn, while they led his quiet little cob into the stables. Then -suddenly turning, after he had taken twenty steps, he followed at a -brisk pace, he passed the stable-door, walking deliberately down the -whole row of horses in the stalls, till he stopped opposite one--a -bright bay, with a long back, and thick, high crest, which was still -covered with lather, and had evidently been ridden furiously not many -minutes before.</p> - -<p class="normal">Turning suddenly to the ostler and his help, who had evidently viewed -his proceedings with more consternation than was quite natural, he -placed himself between them and the door and demanded with a bent brow -and a stern tone, "Where is the master of this horse?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The help, who was nearest, gasped in his face like a caught trout, but -the ostler pushed him aside, and replied instantly, "He is in-doors, -Sir, in number eleven."</p> - -<p class="normal">And turning on his heel, Ned Hayward immediately entered the inn.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XV.</h4> -<h5>The Letter.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">We left Sir John Slingsby with an exclamation in his mouth. An -expression of wonder it was, at what could have become of his friend -Ned Hayward, and the reader may recollect that it was then about ten -o'clock at night. Quitting the worthy baronet in somewhat abrupt and -unceremonious haste, we hurried after the young officer ourselves, in -order to ascertain his fate and fortune with our own eyes; and now, -having done that, we must return once more to Tarningham-park, and -make an apology to Sir John, for our rude dereliction of his house and -company. He is a good-natured man, not easily put out of temper, so -that our excuses will be taken in good part; nor was he inclined to -make himself peculiarly anxious or apprehensive about any man on the -face of the earth; so that, even in the case of his dear friend Ned -Hayward, he let things take their chance, as was his custom, trusting -to fortune to bring about a good result, and philosophically -convinced, that if the blind goddess did not choose to do so, it was -not in his power to make her. During the evening he had once or twice -shown some slight symptoms of uneasiness when he looked round and -remarked his guest's absence; he had scolded his daughter a little, -too, for not singing as well as usual; and, to say the truth, she had -deserved it; for, whether it was the story told by the gentlemen on -their return from the dining-room had frightened her--it not being -customary at Tarningham-house to have shots fired through the -windows--or whether it was that she was uneasy at Captain Hayward's -prolonged absence, she certainly did not do her best at the piano. -Sing as ill as she would, however, Mary Clifford, who sang with her, -kept her in countenance. Now Mary was a very finished musician, with -an exceedingly rich, sweet-toned voice, flexible, and cultivated in a -high degree, with which she could do any thing she chose; so that it -was very evident that she either did not choose to sing well, or else -that she was thinking of something else.</p> - -<p class="normal">But to return to Sir John. Perhaps, if we could look into all the dark -little corners of his heart--those curious little pigeonholes that are -in the breast of every man, containing all the odd crotchets and -strange feelings and sensations, the unaccountable perversities, the -whimsical desires and emotions, that we so studiously conceal from the -common eye--it is not at all improbable that we should find a certain -degree of satisfaction, a comfort, a relief, derived by the worthy -baronet, from the unusual events which had chequered and enlivened -that evening; he had looked forward to the passing of the next six or -seven hours with some degree of apprehension; he had thought it would -be monstrous dull, with all the proprieties and decorums which he felt -called upon to maintain before his sister; and the excitement of the -interview with Mr. Wittingham, the examination of Stephen Gimlet, and -the unaccountable disappearance of Ned Hayward, supplied the vacancy -occasioned by the absence of the bottle and jest. Soon after the -gentlemen had entered the drawing-room, Sir John placed his niece and -his daughter at the piano, and engaged Dr. Miles, his sister, and even -Mr. Beauchamp in a rubber at whist; and though from time to time he -turned round his head to scold Isabella for singing negligently, yet -he contrived to extract amusement from the game,--laughing, talking, -telling anecdotes, commenting upon the play of his partner and his -opponents, and turning every thing into jest and merriment. Thus -passed the evening to the hour I have mentioned, when Mrs. Clifford -rose and retired to bed; and the first exclamation of Sir John, after -she was gone, was that which I have recorded.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is strange, indeed," said Beauchamp, in reply; "but you know his -habits better than I do, and can better judge what has become of him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, my dear uncle," said Miss Clifford, with an earnest air, "I -think you ought to make some inquiries. I do not think Captain Hayward -would have gone away in so strange a manner, without some -extraordinary motive, and after the alarming circumstance that has -happened to-night, one cannot well be without apprehension."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A harum-scarum fellow!" answered Sir John; "nobody ever knew what he -would do next. Some wild-goose scheme of his or another; I saw him -once jump off the mole at Gibraltar, when he was a mere boy, to save -the life of a fellow who had better have been drowned, a sneaking -Spanish thief, a half-smuggler and half-spy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And did he save him?" exclaimed Miss Clifford, eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, to be sure," answered Sir John; "he swims like a Newfoundland -dog, that fellow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your carriage, Sir," said a servant, entering and addressing Mr. -Beauchamp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here, Jones," cried Sir John Slingsby; "do you know what has become -of Captain Hayward? we have not seen him all night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Sir John," answered the man, "Ralph, the under-groom, told me he -had met the captain in the park, as he was returning from taking your -note to Mr. Wharton, and that Captain Hayward made him get down, -jumped upon the cob, and rode away out at the gates as hard as he -could go."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, I told you so," said Sir John Slingsby, "Heaven only knows -what he is about, and there is no use trying to find it out; but this -is too bad of you, Mr. Beauchamp, ordering your carriage at this hour; -the days of curfew are passed, and we can keep the fire in a little -after sun-down."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You should stay and see what has become of your friend, Mr. -Beauchamp," said Isabella Slingsby; "I don't think that is like a true -companion-in-arms, to go away and leave him, just when you know he is -engaged in some perilous adventure."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp was not proof against such persuasions; but we are all -merchants in this world, trafficking for this or that, and sometimes -bartering things that are of very little value to us in reality for -others that we value more highly. Beauchamp made it a condition of his -stay, that Isabella should go on singing; and Mary Clifford engaged -her uncle in a <i>tête-à-tête</i>, while Beauchamp leaned over her cousin -at the piano. The first song was scarcely concluded, however, when the -butler again made his appearance, saying,--</p> - -<p class="normal">"You were asking, Sir John, what had become of Captain Hayward, and -Stephen Gimlet has just come in to say that he had seen him about an -hour ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," said Sir John, impatiently, "what, the devil, has become -of him? what bat-fowling exhibition has he gone upon now? By Jove! -that fellow will get his head broken some of these days, and then we -shall discover whether there are any brains in it or not. Sometimes I -think there is a great deal, sometimes that there is none at all; but, -at all events, he is as kind, good-hearted a fellow as ever lived, -that's certain."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stephen Gimlet says, Sir John," replied the butler, with his usual -solemnity, "that the captain went out on horseback to hunt down the -man who fired through the window."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whew!" whistled Sir John Slingsby, "was it not one of those cursed -fools of game-keepers, shooting a deer?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Sir John," answered the man, "it was some one who came in on -horseback by the upper gates. Captain Hayward got upon the cob and -hunted him across the moor, till he lodged him in one of the pits on -the other side, and was watching him there by the moonlight when -Stephen Gimlet came up; for he was afraid, if he went in one way, that -he might get out the other."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, have they got him? have they got him?" cried Sir John; "by -Jove! this is too bad, one must have his plate made bomb-proof, if -this is to go on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They have not got him, please you, Sir John," replied the butler, -"for when Stephen came up, he and the captain went in, and both got -close up to the fellow, it seems, but he had time to charge his gun, -and he fired straight at them. Wolf--that is, Mr. Gimlet--says he is -sure Captain Hayward is wounded, for the man rode away as hard as he -could go before they could stop him, and the captain jumped upon the -cob and went after him again at the full gallop."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where did they go? which way did they take?" exclaimed the baronet, -brustling up warmly; "by Jove! this is too bad, it must be put down! -Tell Matthews and Harrison, and two or three more, to get out horses -as fast as possible--which way did they take?--can't you answer?--have -you got no ears?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stephen said, Sir, that they seemed to go towards Buxton's inn," -replied the butler, "but he could not well see, for they got amongst -the woods."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By Jove I'll soon settle this matter," cried Sir John; "I'll just get -on a pair of boots and be off--Mr. Beauchamp, you must stay till I -come back, so come, be friendly, send away your carriage, and take a -bed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon one condition, Sir John," replied Beauchamp, "that you allow me -to be the companion of your ride."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," cried Sir John, rubbing his hands, "my dear fellow, you must -stay and protect the ladies."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, we shall do very well, papa," cried Isabella, "only order all the -doors and windows to be shut, and I will command in camp till your -return."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There's a hero," cried Sir John Slingsby, "agreed! Jones, Jones, you -dog, tell the boy to take away his horses, and not to come for Mr. -Beauchamp till this time to-morrow night--nay, I insist, Beauchamp--no -refusal, no refusal--capital haunch of venison just ready for the -spit--bottle of Burgundy, and all very proper--every thing as prim as -my grandmother's maiden aunt--but come along, I'll equip you for your -ride--ha, ha, ha, capital fun, by Jove! Ned Hayward's a famous fellow -to give us such a hunt extempore; as good as a bagged fox, and a devil -a deal better than a drag."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, Sir John Slingsby rolled out of the room, followed by Mr. -Beauchamp, to prepare themselves for their expedition from a vast -store of very miscellaneous articles, which Sir John Slingby's -dressing-room contained. He was, Heaven knows, any thing but a miser, -and yet in that dressing-room were to be found old suits of clothes -and equipments of different kinds, which he had had at every different -period, from twenty to hard upon the verge of sixty; jack-boots, dress -pumps, hobnailed shoes, Hessians, and pen-dragons, great coats, small -coats, suits of regimentals, wrap-rascals, the complete costume of a -harlequin, which now scarcely would have held one of his thighs, and a -mask and domino. But with each of these pieces of apparel was -connected some little incident, or tale, or jest, which clung -lingering to the old gentleman's memory, associating with events -sweet, or joyous, or comic, sometimes even with sad events, but always -with something that touched one or other of the soft points in his -heart; and he never could make up his mind to part with them. From -these he would have fain furnished his guest with a wardrobe, but -unfortunately the baronet's and Mr. Beauchamp's were of very different -sizes, and he laughingly put away the pair of boots that were offered, -saying, "No, no, Sir John, my shoes will do very well; I have ridden -in every sort of foot-covering under the sun, I believe, from wooden -boots to morocco leather slipper; but I will take this large cloak -that is hanging here, in case we should have to bivouac."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, ha, ha!" cried Sir John again; "a capital notion; I should not -mind it at all:--light a great fire on the top of the moor, turn our -toes in, and put a bundle of heath under our heads:--we have got -capital heath here. Were you ever in Scotland, Mr. Beauchamp?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was, Sir, once," answered Beauchamp, in a tone so stern and grave, -that Sir John Slingsby suddenly looked up and saw the countenance of -his guest clouded and gloomy, as if something exceedingly offensive or -painful had just been said to him. It cleared up in a moment, however, -and as soon as the baronet was ready they issued forth again and -descended into the hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile, Isabella and her cousin had remained sitting near -the piano, both rather thoughtful in mood. For a minute or two each -was silent, busied, apparently, with separate trains of thought. At -length Mary looked up, inquiring, "What do you intend to do, -Isabella?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do you mean, Mary, love?" replied her cousin; "if you mean to -ask whether I intend to marry Ned Hayward, as I have a slight notion -papa intends I should, I say no, at once;" and she laughed gaily.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no," answered Miss Clifford; "my question was not half so serious -a one, Isabella; though I do not see why you should not, either. I -only wished to ask whether you intended to sit up or go to bed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why I should not," exclaimed Isabella, gaily, "I can give you twenty -good reasons in a minute. We are both so thoughtless; we should ruin -ourselves in a couple of years; we are both so merry, we should laugh -ourselves to death in a fortnight; we are both so harum-scarum, as -papa calls it, that it would not be safe for one to trust the other -out of his sight; for a thousand to one we should never meet again; he -would go to the East Indies, and I to the West seeking him; and then -each would go to meet the other, and we should pass each other by the -way."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford smiled thoughtfully; and after pausing in meditation for -a moment or two, she answered, "After all, Isabella, I have some -doubts as to whether either of you is as thoughtless as you take a -pleasure in seeming."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, you do me injustice--you do me injustice, Mary," cried Miss -Slingsby; "I seem nothing but what I am. As to Captain Hayward," she -added, with a sly smile, "you know best, Mary dear. He is your <i>preux -chevalier</i>, you know; delivered you from lions and tigers, and giants -and ravishers, and, as in duty bound, has talked to nobody but you all -day."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary coloured a little, but replied straightforwardly, "Oh yes, we -have talked a good deal, enough to make me think that he is not so -thoughtless as my uncle says; and I know you are not so thoughtless as -you say you are yourself. But what do you intend to do while they are -gone?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"O, I shall sit up, of course," answered Isabella; "I always do, till -papa goes to bed. When he has a large party, and I hear an eruption of -the Goths and Vandals making its way hither--which I can always -discover by the creaking of the glass-door--I retreat into that little -room and fortify myself with lock and key, for I have no taste for -mankind in a state of drunkenness; and then when they have roared and -bellowed, and laughed, and quarrelled, and drank their coffee and gone -away, I come out and talk to papa for half an hour, till he is ready -to go to bed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But is he always in a very talking condition himself?" asked Mary -Clifford.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, fie! now, Mary," exclaimed her cousin; "how can you suffer your -mind to be prejudiced by people's reports. My father likes to see -every one happy, and even jovial under his roof--perhaps a little too -much--but if you mean to say he gets tipsy, it is not the case; I -never saw him the least so in all my life; in fact I don't think he -could if he would; for I have seen him drink as much wine as would -make me tipsy twenty times over, without its having any effect upon -him at all--a little gay, indeed; but he is always gay after dinner."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford listened with a quiet smile, but replied not to -Isabella's discourse upon her father's sobriety, merely saying, "Well, -if you sit up, my dear cousin, I shall sit up too, to keep you -company;" but scarcely had the words passed her sweet lips, when in -came Sir John Slingsby and Mr. Beauchamp, the baronet holding a note -open in his hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, ha, ha," he cried, "news of the deserter, news of the deserter, -we had just got to the hall door, horses ready, cloaks on our backs, -servants mounted, plans arranged, a gallop of five or six miles and a -bivouac on the moor before us, when up walks one of the boys from -Buxton's inn with this note from the runaway; let us see what he -says," and approaching the lamp he read by its light several -detached sentences from Ned Hayward's letter, somewhat to the -following effect: "Dear Sir John, for fear you should wonder what has -become of me--so I did, by Jove--I write this to tell you--ah, I knew -all that before--cantered him across the common--earthed him in old -sand-pit--rascal fired at me--not much harm done--chased him along -the road, but lost him at the three turnings--came on here--very -tired--comfortable quarters--particular reason for staying where I -am--over with you early in the morning--Ned Hayward."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, very well, very well," continued Sir John, "that's all right; so -now Beauchamp, if you are for a game at piquet I am your man; if not, -some wine and water and then to bed. I'll put you under the tutelage -of my man Galveston, who knows what's required by every sort of men in -the world, from the Grand Turk down to the Methodist parson, and he -will provide you with all that is necessary."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Beauchamp, however, declined both piquet and wine-and-water; and, -in about half-an-hour, the whole party had retired to their rooms; and -gradually Tarningham Hall sank into silence and repose.</p> - -<p class="normal">One of the last persons who retired to rest was Sir John Slingsby -himself; for, before he sought his own room, he visited the library, -and there, lying on the table where his letters were usually placed, -he found a note, neatly folded and sealed, and directed in a stiff, -clear, clerk-like hand. He took it up and looked at it; laid it down -again: took it up once more; held it, for at least three minutes, in -his hand, as if irresolute whether he should open it or not; and at -length tore open the seal, exclaiming,</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, hang me if I go to bed with such a morsel on my stomach."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, putting it on the other side of the candle, and his glass to his -eye, he read the contents. They did not seem to be palateable; for the -first sentence made him exclaim,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pish! I know you my buck!"</p> - -<p class="normal">After this he read on again; and, though he made no further -exclamation, his brow became cloudy, and his eye anxious. When he had -done, he threw it down, put his hands behind his back, and walked two -or three times up and down the room, stopping every now and then to -gaze at the Turkey carpet.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hang him!" he cried at length. "By Jove! this is a pretty affair."</p> - -<p class="normal">And then he walked up and down again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, devil take it!" he cried, at length, tearing the note to -pieces, and then throwing the fragments into the basket under -the table, "it will come, some how or other, I dare say. There is -always something turns up--if not, the trees must go--can't be -helped--improve the prospect--landscape gardening--ha! ha! ha!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And laughing heartily, he rolled off to bed.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XVI.</h4> -<h5>The Chance-Meeting in the Park.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The morning sky was very gray. There was a thin film of vapour over -the greater part of the heavens, retarding, as it were, the advance of -dawn, as a mother keeps back her wayward child struggling forward too -fast upon all the varied ways of life. Yet towards the east there was -a bright streak of gold, which told that the star of light, and -warmth, and genial influences, was coming up rapidly from below the -round edge of the rolling ball. It was a line, defined and clear, -marked out from the vapour, which ended there by an edge of lighter -yellow; and as the strong golden tints became more, and more intense, -the filmy cloud split and divided into fragments of strange shapes, -while the beams streamed through, and, passing across the wide extent -of air, tinted with purple the vapours above. Towards that glowing -streak all things seemed to turn; the sunflower inclined her head -thither; the lark bent his flight in that direction; towards it all -the songsters of the wood seemed to pour the voices of their choir. It -is a strange thing, the east; full of curious associations with all -the marvellous history of man. Every good thing and almost every -bright thing, has come from the east; religion, salvation's hope; -daylight and the seeming movement of the stars and moon; summer and -sunshine and Christianity have sprung thence, as if there were the -fountain of all the best gifts to man. There have all nations risen, -and still the progress is from the East towards the West; as if there -were some law, by which all things on the earth followed the course of -the great light-giver. Nevertheless, how have these blessings been -mingled with many evils! The cutting winds of spring and winter, -pestilence and destruction, earthquakes and wars, have there arisen, -to sweep over the world, and blacken it with grief and mourning. It is -a strange place, the east; and I can never look towards it and see the -rising sun, without a strange feeling of awe and mystery, from the -various associations which exist between it and the wonders of the -past.</p> - -<p class="normal">The scene from the windows of Tarningham-hall was not a very extensive -one, but it was fine in its peculiar character: the sweeps of the -park; the dewy lawns; the large old trees; the broad and feathery -fern; the stately deer, walking along with unconfirmed steps and -half-awakened deliberation; the matutinal hares, scudding about in the -gray twilight; and the squirrels, rushing from tree to tree; were all -pleasant to the eye that looked upon them, though that eye could only -at one small point, where the break in the wood gave a wider view, -catch any thing beyond the domain, and all that even there was gained, -consisted of a narrow portion of that same streak of yellow light, -which broke the monotonous curtain of the cloud towards the east.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, for several minutes, Mary Clifford gazed upon the whole -with pleasure and interest. She was early in her habits: a familiar -child of the morning; and the dew on the leaves was a delight to her; -the soft gray of the early day, a sort of invitation to contemplation -and enjoyment. After marking the deer, and smiling at the sportive -gambols of the hares, who, as it was forbidden to shoot near the -house, played fearless on the lawns, she turned her eyes towards the -spot where the dawning morning-light was visible, and recollecting -that not far from the house and what was called the terrace, there was -a point whence the whole scene over the country was visible, and where -she could watch, with uninterrupted pleasure, all the effects of the -breaking day upon that beautiful landscape, she sallied forth to enjoy -a peculiar sort of pleasure, which requires a very pure and unsullied -mind, and a heart naturally elevated and devout, to understand it -fully.</p> - -<p class="normal">The hour was a very early one; for, at that season of the year, Dan -Phœbus, as the ancient poets call him, shaking off the lazy habits -of the winter, gets up betimes; and, as the servants of good Sir John -Slingsby were not subjected to very severe discipline, not a single -soul in the house was up to give our sweet friend exit. There is -always a curious sensation in walking alone through a house, all the -other tenants of which are still sleeping; there is a deathly feeling -about it; a severing of the ties, which so lately existed between us -and those who are now insensible; but that sensation is most strongly -felt, when the morning sunshine is on the world; when nature has -revived, or is reviving from the trance of night; and other things are -busy in restless activity, though the gay companions of a few hours -gone by are silent and still, as if death had struck them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Down the broad oak stairs, with its narrow strip of carpet, along the -old marble hall with its tessellated floor, Mary Clifford went slowly -and quietly, lighted alone by a skylight overhead, and a large window -over the great doors; but she could hear the gay birds singing -without; the thrush upon the tree top; the woodlark in the shade; the -linnet, with its small, sweet song, and the chaffinch in his spring -dress and his spring notes amongst the bushes. She opened the door of -the library and went in, leaving it unclosed behind her, then unbarred -and unlocked the glass-door, went out and gazed about her. Some deer -that were near the house started and withdrew a few steps, and then -paused to stare at her; but whether it was that they had never seen -any of their companions slaughtered by a being in a woman's dress, or -that they thought she looked, as she really did, sweet and gentle as -the morning, they did not take fright, trotting a few steps farther, -after a long look, and then stopping with their heads to converse over -the matter.</p> - -<p class="normal">After closing the door, Mary walked on towards the terrace, which was -at the distance of about a couple of hundred yards, climbed the steps -and proceeded towards the end, where the finest view was to be -obtained, at a spot sheltered by six rugged yews, underneath which -there was a seat: and there she paused, for at least ten minutes, -drinking in the beauty of the scene, as if changed to a thousand hues -under the influence of the rising sun. All was still and tranquil; but -at length she heard some voices speaking, and looked in the direction -in which they came.</p> - -<p class="normal">Some of the grooms, she thought, as her eyes rested on the stables at -some little distance in the rear of the house; and although it was not -at all probable that they would disturb her reveries, yet she prepared -to go back, for one half of the pleasure which she derived from her -early walk lay in its solitude. She was wishing that the grooms had -thought fit to lie in bed for half an hour longer, when she heard -proceeding from the lower ground under the bank of the terrace, the -light and rapid footfalls of some one apparently walking from the -stables to the mansion; and, not at all wishing to meet anyone, she -turned back again towards the yews. At the end of the terrace, -however, the footsteps stopped; there was a momentary pause, and then -they mounted the steps and came along the gravel towards her. Mary -walked on to the end, and then turned, when straight before her -appeared Captain Hayward, coming on with his usual light and cheerful -air, though the sleeve of his coat was cut open, and it was evident -that he had bandages round his arm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good morning, good morning, Miss Clifford," he said, advancing -frankly and taking her hand; "what a magnificent morning! I see you -are as early in your habits as myself. But did you ever see such a -rich dove-colour as has come upon those clouds? I love some of these -calm gray mornings, with a promise of a bright day they give, better -far than those skies all purple and gold, such as are described by -that rhodomontade fellow, Marmontel, in his 'Incas,' which are always -sure to end in clouds and rain. I have always thought those very -bright mornings like a dashing woman of fashion, tricked out in her -best smiles and her brightest colours, promising all sorts of things -with her eyes, which she does not intend to perform, and cold or -frowning before half an hour is over."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the gray morning, Captain Hayward," asked Mary, with a smile, -"what is that like?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I don't know," answered Captain Hayward, laughing, "you must not -drive my imagination too hard, dear lady, lest it stumble--perhaps the -gray morning is like a calm, quiet, well brought up country girl, with -a kind heart under the tranquil look that will give a long day of -sunshine after its first coolness is passed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford cast down her eyes, and did not answer; but, as she was -walking on towards the house, Ned Hayward continued in his usual -straightforward way; "You must not go in yet, my dear Miss Clifford; I -want you to take a turn or two with me upon this delightful terrace. -You must, indeed, for I have got a thousand things to say and I know I -shall find nobody else to say them to for the next two or three -hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">His fair companion did not think fit to refuse, though some prudish -people might have thought it a little improper to take a walk at five -o'clock in the morning with a young captain of infantry unattached; -but Mary Clifford had only known Captain Hayward six-and-thirty hours, -and therefore she saw nothing in the least improper in it in the -world. Young ladies, who guard so very scrupulously against being made -love to, forget that they show what they expect. She turned, -therefore, with him at once, and replied, "You must, indeed, have a -long series of adventures to tell us; I am delighted to forestall the -rest of the family and to have the news myself three hours before any -one. We were all in great alarm about you last night. My uncle and Mr. -Beauchamp, and half-a-dozen servants were setting out to seek you, -upon the report of Stephen Gimlet, as they call him, the father of the -little boy you saved; but your note just arrived in time to stop -them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, then, Master Gimlet, I suppose, has told my story for me?" said -Ned Hayward.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only very briefly," answered the young lady; "he said you had chased -some man over the common, who had fired at you, and he was afraid had -wounded you; and I fear, from what I see, he was right."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, it was nothing, nothing at all," replied Ned Hayward; "but I'll -tell you all about it as circumstantially as a newspaper;" and he went -on in a gay and lively tone to give an account of his adventures of -the preceding night, till his arrival at Buxton's inn. Sometimes he -made Mary Clifford laugh, sometimes look grave and apprehensive, but -he always interested her deeply in his tale; and she showed that she -had marked one part particularly by asking, "Then did you know the man -when you saw his face so distinctly in the pit?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Up to that moment I thought I did," replied her companion, "but then -I saw I was utterly mistaken. I will acknowledge to you, my dear Miss -Clifford, that, till he turned round I fancied he was one I had seen -before--the same height, the same make--and, under existing -circumstances, I felt that nothing would justify me in giving up the -pursuit, although it was most painful to me, I assure you, to follow, -with the purpose of punishing a young gentleman, in whom, from what -you said yesterday at dinner, I conceive you take a considerable -interest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who? Mr. Wittingham?" exclaimed Mary Clifford, her face turning as -red as scarlet, "Oh, Captain Hayward, you are mistaken, I take no -interest in him, I abhor him; or, at least---at least I dislike him -very much."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward looked puzzled; and he really was so in a considerable -degree. His own prepossessions had done something to mislead him; and -a man never conceives a wrong opinion but a thousand small -circumstances are sure to arise to confirm it. A man may long for -green figs, but in any country but England he will not get them in the -month of March; he may desire grapes but he cannot find them in May; -but if he have a suspicion of any kind, he will meet with, whenever he -likes, all sorts of little traits and occurrences to strengthen it, -for the only fruit that is ripe in all seasons is corroborative -evidence; and, amongst the multitude of events that are ever in the -market of life, it must be a hard case if he do not find enough of it. -After a moment given to consideration, he replied more cautiously than -might have been expected, "I have some how mistaken you, my dear -lady," he said at length, "and such mistakes may be dangerous. I have -no right to force myself into your confidence; but really the whole of -this affair is becoming serious. When first I had the pleasure of -seeing you, I found you subjected to what was certainly a great -outrage. I call it so; for I am perfectly certain that you yourself -must have considered it as such; and there could not even be a -palliation for it except--" he paused an instant, and then added, -gravely, "except love on both sides, disappointed by objections -arising in the prejudices of others."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford coloured deeply, but suffered him to proceed. "I need -not tell you, after, what I have said," he continued, "that I have -recognised and identified the principal person concerned in this -business. At dinner you expressed a very strong desire that the -offender should not be punished; but the former offence was followed -by a very serious crime. A shot was fired last night into your uncle's -dining-room amidst a party of gentlemen quietly drinking their wine, -which very nearly struck the father of the very man who had already -rendered himself amenable to the laws of his country by his attack -upon you. I had suspicions that he was the perpetrator of this crime, -and although he certainly was not the person I pursued across the -moor, yet I have some very strong reasons to think that he was a -participator in the offence. These are all very serious circumstances, -my dear young lady; but I am ignorant of those which have preceded -these events, and if without pain to yourself you could give me any -explanations which might guide my mind to the causes of all that has -occurred, it might be very serviceable in many respects. I am sure you -will answer me frankly, if it be possible, and believe me I am not one -to act harshly, or to abuse your confidence--nay, more, thoughtless as -I may seem, and as I am called, be assured I will do nought without -consideration and forethought."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sure you will not, Captain Hayward," answered Mary Clifford, -warmly, "quite sure; and I have no hesitation in giving you my -confidence--though, indeed, I have very little to tell. These things -are always unpleasant to speak about, and that is the only motive I -could have for remaining silent; but this gentleman's conduct has been -so very public, that I am saved from all scruples on his account. -About two years ago, I met Mr. Henry Wittingham at the county ball, -danced with him there, and observed nothing in his behaviour which -should make me treat him differently from other new acquaintances. I -did not think him agreeable, but he was not offensive. He asked me to -dance again the same night, and I refused, but, shortly after, he was -formally introduced at our house; my father asked him to dinner, and -was, indeed, very kind, both to him and to Mr. Wittingham, his father, -because he thought that they were unjustly looked down upon and -treated coldly by the county gentry on account of their family. I soon -began to find that--that--I really do not well know how to go on--but -that this young gentleman's visits were more frequent than was -pleasant, and that he always contrived to be near me, especially when -we met in public. His conversation, his manners, as I knew more of -him, became insupportably disagreeable; I tried as much as I could to -avoid him, to check his advances, at first quietly, but decidedly -without speaking to any one else, for I did not wish to produce any -breach between my father and Mr. Wittingham; but, at last, I found -that he made a parade and a boast of his intimacy, and then I thought -it best to speak both to mamma, and my dear father. What was done I -really do not know; but certainly something took place which very much -enraged both father and son, and the latter was forbidden to visit at -our house. The result was any thing but deliverance from his -persecution. From that moment he chose to assume, that the objection -was on the side of my parents, and I cannot tell you how I have been -annoyed. I have not ventured to walk out alone, for although once when -I met him in the village, I told him plainly my sentiments towards -him, he still persisted in the most unpleasant manner, that I spoke -alone from mamma's dictation, and for months he used to hang about the -place, till I really grew nervous at the sight of every human being -whom I did not instantly recognise. This last outrage has been worse -than all; and I will admit that it deserves punishment; but I am -afraid, from various circumstances which accompanied it, that the law, -if carried into effect, would punish it too severely. My uncle -declared he would hang the man if he could catch him; and oh, think, -Captain Hayward, what a horrible reflection that would ever be to me -through life, to think that I had been even the innocent cause of -bringing a fellow-creature to a disgraceful death."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Painful, indeed, I do not doubt;" answered Ned Hayward, "but yet--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay," cried Mary, "do not say <i>but yet</i>, Captain Hayward. I -could never make up my mind to give evidence against him; and, to -speak selfishly, the very fact of having to appear in a court of -justice, and of having my name in public newspapers, would render the -punishment nearly as great to me as to him. These were my sole -motives, I can assure you, in what I said yesterday, and not the -slightest personal interest in one who has, I am afraid, in all -situations disgraced himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">For some reason or another, Ned Hayward was glad to hear Mary Clifford -defend herself, and so warmly too, from the imputation of any feeling -of regard for Harry Wittingham; but he took care not to show, to its -full extent, all the pleasure that he felt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought it strange, indeed," he said, "that you should entertain -any great feeling of esteem for a person who certainly seemed to me -not worthy of it; but there are often circumstances, my dear Miss -Clifford, unseen by the general eye, which endear two people to each -other, who seem the most dissimilar--youthful companionship, services -rendered, old associations--a thousand things build up this between -persons the least likely to assimilate which are stronger than all -opposing principles. I thought that such might be the case with you; -but as it is not, let me tell you what was the end of my adventure -last night; and then you will see what cause I have for suspicion. I -must inform you, in the first instance, that I marked the person of -Mr. Henry Wittingham well on the evening of the attack, -notwithstanding the twilight, and that I saw him yesterday in -Tarningham. His father's unwillingness to enter into the charge, when -made against some unknown person, excited suspicion; but I found -afterwards, from other sources, that Mr. Wittingham and his son had -quarrelled, and were completely at variance; and, in the justice-room, -the young man whispered something to the old one, of which I heard -only two or three words, but they were of a threatening nature. I have -told you that I thought I recognised the figure of the man who fired -the shot, and Stephen Gimlet declared he could swear the horse he rode -was Henry Wittingham's; but I found, as I have said, that the man in -the pit was a stranger. When, after pursuing him as long as I had any -trace, I at length arrived at a place called, I find, Buxton's Inn, I -saw the very horse in the stable in a state which left no doubt that -it had been ridden hard for several hours, and had not been in five -minutes. I inquired for the master, and was told the number of the -room where he was to be found. I walked straight in and found Mr. -Henry Wittingham sitting quietly at supper. Some conversation ensued, -in the course of which I told him the cause of my intrusion; and his -whole manner was confused and agitated. He swore violently at the idea -of any body having ridden his horse, and affected not to believe it; -but I made him come down to the stable, when, of course, his mouth was -closed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But who did ride it then?" exclaimed Miss Clifford.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, that I cannot tell," answered Ned Hayward; "but I resolved to -wait at the inn and see if I could discover anything. I was shown into -a very neat little sitting-room, and wrote a note to your uncle, Sir -John, while they were getting my coffee. It was now nearly ten -o'clock, and there was a room apparently similar to my own on each -side of me, with a door of communication with either. I suppose they -were locked so as to prevent the passage of any thing very fat or -corporeal from one room into the other, but certainly were not so -well closed as to exclude all sound. It may seem a strange thing for -me, my dear Miss Clifford, to give you an account of the sitting-rooms -of an inn; but so much depends in this world upon what is called -juxta-position, that very important events have depended upon the -keyhole of a door. You must not suppose, however, that I made use of -either of the keyholes in my room for the laudable and honourable -purpose of eavesdropping; on the contrary, I spoke loud enough to the -waiter to give sufficient notice to my neighbours, if I had any, that -voices were distinguishable from one room to the other; and it would -seem that Mr. Henry Wittingham, who was on the left-hand side, was -determined to impress me not only with the same fact, but also with a -notion that he was in a towering passion on account of the usage his -horse had met with; for he cursed and swore very severely, to which -the waiter, or whosoever he spoke to, did not reply. There seemed to -be nobody on the other side, for about half an hour, when, as I was -sitting at my coffee, after having despatched my note, I heard steps -come up from below, a door open, and the voice of the waiter say most -respectfully, 'I will tell the captain you are here, Mr. Wharton.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is Mr. Wharton, the lawyer, then?" exclaimed Mary, with some -degree of eagerness.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I really cannot tell," answered Ned Hayward; "but I suspect it was, -from what passed afterwards. All was silent for about three minutes, -except when I heard a step walking up and down the room. As your uncle -had mentioned Mr. Wharton's name more than once in the course of -yesterday, I fancied he might have come upon business to some one, -which there was no necessity for my hearing; and, therefore, I rattled -the cups and saucers, moved about the chair, tumbled over a footstool, -and left them to take their own course."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Wharton is a very shrewd man," said Mary Clifford, "and one I -should think a hint would not be thrown away upon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He did not choose to take mine, however," replied Ned Hayward; "for, -at the end of a few minutes, some one seemed to join him, saying in a -loud and familiar tone, 'Ha! how do you do, Wharton?--Very glad to see -you again! I hope you have brought me some money.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was it Mr. Wittingham's voice?" asked Miss Clifford.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, dear no," replied Captain Hayward; "one quite of a different -tone; a good deal of the same swaggering insolence in it, but, to my -fancy, there was more bold and dogged determination. Every now and -then there was a small pause, too, before a word was pronounced, which -one generally finds in the speech of a cunning man; but yet there was -a sort of sneering persiflage in the words, that I have more generally -met with in the empty-headed coxcombs of fashion, who have nothing to -recommend them but impertinence and a certain position in society. -However, it could not be Mr. Wittingham, for him this lawyer must have -known very well, and his reply was,--'Indeed, Captain Moreton, I have -not; but I thought it better to come over and answer your note in -person, to see what could be done for you.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Captain Moreton!" cried Mary; "I know who it is very well--not that I -ever saw him, as far as I can remember; for he quitted this part of -the country ten or twelve years ago, when I was quite a child; but I -have often heard my father say that he was a bad, reckless man, and -had become quite an adventurer, after having broken his mother's -heart, ruined his other parent, and abridged poor old Mr. Moreton's -days also. He died quite in poverty, three years ago, after having -sold his estate, or mortgaged it, or something of the kind, to this -very Mr. Wharton, the attorney."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" said Ned Hayward, "that explains a great deal, my dear young -lady. Where did this property lie?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Just beyond my uncle's, a little way on the other side of the moor," -replied Miss Clifford.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward fell into a fit of thought, and did not reply for some -moments; at length he said, with a laugh, "Well, I do not know that -their conversation would interest you very much, though, in spite of -all I could do I heard a great part of it, and as for the rest, I must -manage the best way I can myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are very tantalising, Captain Hayward," said his fair companion, -"and you seem to imply that I could aid in something. If I can, I -think you are bound to tell me. Confidence for confidence, you know," -and when she had done she coloured slightly, as if feeling that her -words implied more than she meant.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Assuredly," replied Ned Hayward; "but I only fear I might distress -you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If what you say has reference to Mr. Wittingham," the young lady -answered, raising her eyes to his face with a look of ingenuous -frankness, "let me assure you, once for all, that nothing you can say -will distress me if it do not imply that I feel something more than -the coldest indifference."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, it does not refer to him at all," replied Ned Hayward, "but to -one you love better."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" exclaimed his companion, her lip trembling with eagerness, -"tell me--tell me, Captain Hayward! After what you have said, I must -beg and entreat that you would."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will, then," answered Ned Hayward, gazing upon her with a look of -admiration blended with sorrow at the pain he was about to inflict. "I -believe, Miss Clifford I am about to commit an indiscretion in -mentioning this subject to you at all; for I do not know that you can -assist materially; and yet it is something to have one to consult -with--one, in whose generosity, in whose kindness, sympathy, ay, and -good sense too, I can fully trust. Besides, you know, I dare say, all -the people in the neighbourhood, and may give me some serviceable -hints."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But speak--speak," said Miss Clifford, pausing in their walk up and -down the terrace, as she saw that he fought round the subject which he -thought would distress her, with a timid unwillingness to do so; "what -is it you have to tell me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, I very much fear, my dear young lady," answered Captain Hayward, -"that your uncle is very much embarrassed--nay--why should I disguise -the matter?--absolutely ruined."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford clasped her hands together, and was about to answer with -an exclamation of sorrow and surprise; but I do believe that no person -on earth was ever permitted to give an explanation uninterrupted. The -Fates are against it: at least they were so in this instance; for just -as Ned Hayward had uttered the last very serious words, they heard a -light step tripping up behind them, and both turning suddenly round, -beheld Miss Slingsby's French maid.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Ma'amselle," she said as soon as she reached them, "I saw you out -in this early morning without any thing on, and so have brought you a -shawl."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you, thank you, Minette," replied Mary, and as she was well -accustomed to early walks, was about to decline the shawl; but, -judging the quickest mode of getting rid of the maid would be to take -it, she added, "Very well--give it to me," and cast it carelessly -round her shoulders.</p> - -<p class="normal">The maid would not be satisfied with that arrangement, however, -adjusted it herself, showed how the ladies of Paris shawled -themselves, and occupied full ten minutes, during which her poor -victim remained in all the tortures of suspense.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XVII.</h4> -<h5>Miss Clifford is made acquainted with her uncle's embarrassments by -Captain Hayward.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">As soon as the maid had taken herself away, Ned Hayward said in a kind -and feeling tone, "I fear I have distressed you much, Miss Clifford; -let us walk quite to the other end and talk over this matter; for I -have only been hurried into revealing this painful fact by my anxiety -to consult with some one as to the possibility, if not of remedying -the existing evil, at least of preventing it from going further."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary walked on by his side in silence, with her hands clasped and -her eyes cast down with a look of deep thought; but at length she -looked up, saying in a tone of one communing with himself--"Is it -possible? what, with this fine property? But how can it be, Captain -Hayward?--here he is, with an estate of at least eight thousand a year -in his own possession, to do with it what he chooses."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To explain all, I had better tell you what I have heard," said her -companion. "The tale may be false; I trust part of it is so; but a -great part must be true; and the man spoke as if from authority. The -first part of their conversation was in a light tone; for a time the -lawyer seemed to avoid grappling with the subject, and asked his -companion after madam, in not the most respectful manner. The captain -replied, she was very well, and in the other room; but pressed the -lawyer to the point. He turned away again, and inquired whether -Captain Moreton had been successful at the card-table lately. He -answered, 'Tolerably; he had won a thousand pounds just before he came -from London;' but then added, 'Come, come, Wharton, no bush-fighting; -you know you owe me five hundred pounds, and I must have it.' To this -the lawyer answered: 'No, indeed, Captain Moreton, you are mistaken; I -have told you so twice: the property was sold to a client of mine; and -if I had chosen to send in my whole bill, your father would have been -greatly my debtor instead of I being yours. The sum given was -fifty-four thousand pounds; forty thousand went to pay off the -mortgage and your debts; twelve thousand your father had; and my bill, -together with that of the solicitor's of the opposite party, amounted -in fact and reality to two thousand four hundred and seventy-two -pounds. You recollect, I had not been paid for six years.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"The next thing I heard," continued Ned Hayward, "was a loud laugh; -and then Captain Moreton exclaimed, 'Your client! Wharton! very good, -very good, indeed; you must think me exceedingly green: I know as well -as possible who bought the property for two-thirds of its value; -employed other solicitors for a fictitious client; pocketed one-half -of their bill, and added thereto a bill of his own, which was more -than the double of what he was entitled to--come, come, Sir; don't -affect to sham a passion, for we have business to talk upon, and that -of a serious kind. You are just going to sell the property again for -the full value; and, before you do so, you shall disgorge a little.' -The lawyer attempted to bluster, but unsuccessfully; for when he asked -how Captain Moreton would stop him from selling the property, even if -all he said were true, that worthy gentleman reminded him that his -signature had been necessary to one of the papers, and then when he -asserted it had been given, informed him with a laugh, that the -signature he had obtained was that of a marker at a billiard-table; -the lawyer's clerk sent after him to Paris, having been unacquainted -with his person. Mr. Wharton attempted to show that it was of no -consequence; but the matter so far ended by his giving a check for -five hundred pounds, on Captain Moreton's signing another paper, which -I suppose was drawn up in the room, for a silence succeeded for some -minutes. A part of what took place then was not distinct; and I -certainly made no effort to hear it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But my uncle," said Miss Clifford, "how does this affect my uncle?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He came upon the carpet next," replied Ned Hayward; "Captain Moreton -asked who was going to buy the property; and when the lawyer made a -mystery of it, saying that he really did not know the true parties, -but that Doctor Miles had meddled in the business, the other named Sir -John as the probable purchaser. There at Mr. Wharton laughed heartily, -and said, 'I'll tell you what, Captain, Sir John Slingsby is at this -moment next thing to a beggar.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary put her hands before her eyes and turned very pale.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Forgive me, my dear Miss Clifford," continued Ned Hayward, "for -repeating such unpleasant words; but it is better you should hear all. -I will hasten, however: Captain Moreton affected not to believe the -tale; and then the lawyer went on to mention the facts. He stated that -your uncle's property was mortgaged to the utmost extent, that the -interest of two half years would be due in four or five days; that -notice of fore-closure had been given, and the time would expire -before six weeks are over, that there are considerable personal debts, -and that Sir John had written to him this very day to get a further -advance of ten thousand pounds, which are absolutely necessary to -stave off utter ruin even for a short time. Now I happen to know that -Sir John did actually write to this man; and as Mr. Wharton could have -no object in deceiving the person he was speaking to, I fear the tale -is too true."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good heavens! what is to be done?" exclaimed Mary Clifford; "Oh, -Captain Hayward, how terrible it is to know this, and not to be able -to assist!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Captain Hayward paused a single instant and then replied with a look -of deep feeling and interest, "Perhaps I ought not to have told you -this, Miss Clifford," he said; "but I am a very thoughtless person, I -am afraid, and yet I did not do this without thought, either; you know -that I have a deep regard for your uncle, he was a very kind friend to -me in days gone by, but having observed him well and with that -accuracy which, strange as it may seem to say, is only to be found in -extreme youth; I know that it is perfectly in vain to talk with him on -the subject of his embarrassments, unless at the very moments when -they are the most pressing and severe. To talk with him then may be -too late. He is one of those--and there are many of them--who, with a -hopeful disposition, many resources in their own minds, and a happy -faculty of banishing unpleasant thoughts, go on from one difficulty to -another, finding means through a great part of life of putting off the -evil day, and who, thinking the chapter of accidents inexhaustible, -come suddenly to a full stop in the end, with all their resources -exhausted and no possible means of disentangling themselves from their -embarrassments. It has been his constant axiom for twenty years, to my -certain knowledge, that something would turn up, and when such is the -case, it is perfectly in vain to attempt to consult with a person so -circumstanced as to the means of extricating him from difficulties, of -which he always expects to be delivered by a lucky chance. Having -found Fortune his best friend, he goes on trusting to her, till the -fickle dame deserts him, and then looks around in bewilderment for -assistance which cannot arrive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Too true a picture, too true a picture," replied Miss Clifford, in a -sorrowful tone; "I have seen it myself, Captain Hayward, and have been -grieved to see it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, do not let us grieve, but act, my dear lady," said Ned Hayward; -"let us consult together, and see what can be done, good Sir John must -be saved at any cost."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what can I do, Captain Hayward?" she inquired. "Perhaps you do -not know that the whole of my fortune is tied up by my father's will -so strictly, that I can dispose of nothing till I have reached -one-and-twenty years of age; and though I would willingly, most -willingly, sacrifice any thing to relieve my uncle, I am as powerless -in this business as a child."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is unfortunate, indeed," said Ned Hayward, in reply, "very -unfortunate, I had hoped that you had command of your own property, or -that you might be able to point out one, who would be able and willing -to take this mortgage and relieve your uncle."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know of no one, no one on the earth," she answered; "my mother's is -but a jointure; I am not of age for nine or ten months, and before -that time it will be all over."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The security is perfectly good," continued Ned Hayward in a musing -tone, as if he had not heard her, "and I feel very sure that the -property is worth a great deal more than this man has advanced, -or any of his clients, as he calls them. Otherwise it would not have -been done. We should easily find some one, I think, to take the -mortgage, if we could but pay this cursed interest and stop the -fore-closure--perhaps at a less per centage, too--that man is a rogue, -I am sure, and we may very likely cut down a great many of the -charges; for I feel very certain he has been purposely entangling good -Sir John, till at length, when he thinks there is no possibility of -escape, he pounces upon him to devour him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what is to be done? what is to be done?" reiterated Miss -Clifford.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, it does not matter," said Captain Hayward, in the same -thoughtful tone; "I'll tell you what we must do: I have a sum sixteen -thousand pounds in the funds. Ten thousand, it seems, will be wanted -for the most pressing matters--we will call it twelve thousand; for no -man in your uncle's position reckons very closely what is needed, and -his calculation is always below instead of above the mark. I will go -up to town and sell out; that will put off matters for six weeks or -two months; and, in the meantime, we must set all our wits to work for -the purpose of finding some one who will take the mortgage at -reasonable terms, and of putting your uncle's affairs altogether into -order."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! how can I thank you, Captain Hayward?" said Mary Clifford, -putting her hand upon his arm; "indeed, indeed, I am very grateful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Without the slightest occasion," replied Ned Hayward. "I wish to -Heaven I had the means of taking the mortgage myself; but the fact is, -my poor father--as good a man as ever lived--was too kind and too easy -a one. He put me very early into what is called a crack-regiment, -which in plain English means, I suppose, a regiment likely soon to be -broken, or, at all events, likely to break those that enter it. I had -my expensive habits, like the rest, and never fancied that I should -not find five or six thousand a-year, when I returned from Gibraltar -at my father's death. Instead of that, I found the unentailed property -totally gone; the entailed property was mine, as I was the last of my -race; but there were debts to the amount of forty thousand pounds; but -if I did not pay them, who would? The men would have had to go without -their money; so I sold the property, paid the debts, put the little -that remained, between fifteen and sixteen thousand pounds, in the -funds, and have lived within my income ever since. Thus, you see, I -have not the means of taking the mortgage."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford cast down her eyes, and was silent for a minute or two; -for there were very strong emotions at her heart--sincere respect and -admiration; more powerful, far, than they would have been had she -conceived a high opinion Ned Hayward's character at first, or if he -had made a parade of his feelings and his actions. He treated it also -lightly, however, so much as a matter of course, both what he had done -and what he was about to do, that many an ordinarily minded person -would have taken it on his own showing, and thought it a matter of -course too. But Mary Clifford was not an ordinarily minded person, and -she felt deeply.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what will you do yourself, Captain Hayward?" she said, at length; -"my uncle will be long before he is able to repay you, and the want of -this sum may be a serious inconvenience to you, I fear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! dear, no," replied Ned Hayward, with the easiest air in the -world, "I shall have four thousand pounds left, which will enable me -to get upon full pay again, and, though this is a sad peaceful time we -are in, may have some opportunity afforded me. I had held this sum, -which I put by, quite sacred, and would never touch a farthing of it, -though I was very much tempted once or twice to buy a fine horse or a -fine picture; but cut off as I am, my dear Miss Clifford, by my want -of fortune, from forming those ties which are the comfort and -happiness of latter years to most men, I may as well go and serve my -country as well as I can to the best of my power, as linger out my -days in hunting, and shooting, and fishing, reading poetry, and -looking at pictures. Sir John will pay me when he can, I know; for he -will look upon it as a debt of honour; and, if he never can, why, it -can't be helped; at all events, I do not wrong my heirs, for I have -got none;" and he laughed right cheerfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford looked in his face with a smile; it was a sort of -philosophy so new to her, so good, so generous, so self-devoted, and -yet so cheerful, that she felt strongly infected by it. She had been -bred up amongst people and by people equally good, equally generous in -all great things; but somewhat rigid in smaller ones; severe, if not -stern; grave, if not harsh; and they had committed the sorrowful -mistake of thinking, and of trying to teach her to think, that true -piety is not cheerful. Her father had been the person from whose -breast this spring of chilling waters had been welled forth; and -Mary's mother, though originally of a gay and happy disposition, had -been very much altered by the petrifying influence of the stream. The -contrast, too, in Mrs. Clifford's case, between her brother and her -husband; the one of whom she might love, but could not respect; the -other whom she loved and respected, nay, somewhat feared, tended to -clench her mistake, which the dean had striven to implant; and to make -her believe that cheerfulness and folly, if not vice, were companions -rarely separate. Mary Clifford saw the mistake now, though her own -heart had told her long before that an error existed somewhere. But -she felt, at the same time, that she also had a part to play towards -one who sacrificed so much for the nearest relation she had except her -mother; and with a beaming smile upon her lips, she said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Captain Hayward, I shall never forget your conduct this day; but, at -the same time, you must not run any risk, or be any loser. If I had -any power over my own fortune, I would do what you are now kind enough -to do; but, at all events, I give you my word, that, the moment I am -of age, I will repay you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I dare say Sir John will do that," answered Ned Hayward, "but, at -all events, my dear young lady, pray say nothing to him on this -subject till the last moment. We must let the matter press him very -hard before he will hear reason; then, when he sees no means of escape -whatever, he will consent that others shall find one for him. You had -better talk to his daughter, but enjoin her to secrecy. If I have an -opportunity, I will sound Beauchamp; I have a notion that he is rich; -I feel very sure he is liberal and kind, and may take the mortgage -if he finds it a reasonable security. That it is so, I am quite -certain--nay, more, I am convinced, that if Sir John would let me -manage all his affairs for him for one year, I would remove all his -difficulties, and leave him a better income, in reality, than he has -had for a long while. But now I must run away and leave you, for I see -the people are getting up about the place, and I have two important -pieces of business to do before noon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed," said Mary, struck by something peculiar and indefinable in -his manner; "I hope nothing unpleasant?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will tell you what they are," said Ned Hayward, in a gay tone; "and -then you shall judge for yourself. I have, first, to catch the largest -trout in the river; I made a bet last night with your uncle that I -would do so, and I always keep my engagements; and then I have to make -ready for London to sell out this money."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But need you go yourself?" said Miss Clifford, with a look of -interest; "can you not send?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"True, I can," said Ned Hayward, "I never thought of that--but yet I -had better go myself.--Good bye, good bye!" and he turned away; then -pausing for a moment, something which he struggled against, got the -better of him, and, coming back, he took Mary Clifford's hand in his, -and pressed it gently, saying, "Farewell! There are some people, Miss -Clifford, whose society is so pleasant, that it may become dangerous -to one, who must not hope to enjoy it long or often."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XVIII.</h4> -<h5>Ned Hayward's missive to the younger Wittingham.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"What hour does the coach start at for London?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Half-past four, Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Arrives in town at twelve to-morrow, I think?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Sir; last time I went up, we got there by eleven."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then down again at half-past four?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, Sir--gets to the White Hart at half-past eleven--longer coming -down than going up."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will do very well." And Ned Hayward, who had held the above -conversation with one of Sir John Slingsby's servants, hurried -upstairs. His room was all in the most exact order. His fishing -tackle, two fowling-pieces in their cases, shot-pouches, game-bags, -powder-flasks, &c., were in array on the top of the drawers. His -clothes were all in their separate places, his boots arranged under -the dressing-glass, his writing-desk upon the table, flanked on either -side by half-a-dozen volumes. Every thing could be found in a moment, -so that if called upon suddenly to march, the baggage would require no -time to pack. It was to the writing-desk he first went however; he -opened it, unscrewed the top of the inkstand, took out a sheet of -notepaper and a memorandum-book, and then sat down deliberately in -the chair. The memorandum-book was first called into service, and in -the column of accounts he put down what he had paid at the inn that -morning, and then, on another page, wrote down the following list, -which I will not attempt to explain,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Catch trout. -"Write to H. W. -"See Ste Gim. -"Make inquiries. -"Provide for boy. -"Pack car. bag. -"Coach to London. -"Sell out 12,000<i>l</i>. -"Alter will. -"Pistols. -"Friend--qy. Beauchamp. -"Talk to him of No. 2 and No. 8."</p> - -<p class="normal">When this was done, he put the memorandum-book in the pocket of a -frock-coat, sat down again, drew the sheet of notepaper towards him, -and on it wrote as follows, with a bold, free, rapid hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Captain Hayward presents his compliments to Mr. Henry Wittingham, and -begs to inform him that since he had the honour of seeing him last -night, some business has occurred which compels him to go to London -for a short time. He goes by the coach this day at half-past four, -returns by the coach which leaves London at the same hour to-morrow, -and expects to arrive at the White Hart by half-past eleven or twelve. -If by that time Mr. Wittingham has found some gentleman of honour to -use as his friend, Captain Hayward will have much pleasure in seeing -that gentleman at the White Hart any time between the arrival of the -coach and one o'clock. If not, he will be found for about a fortnight -at Tarningham-park."</p> - -<p class="normal">The note was then addressed and sealed, and as soon as that was done, -without a moment's pause, Ned Hayward threw off the dress-coat in -which he was still habited, put on a sporting costume, looked through -his book of flies, and taking fishing-rod and basket in one hand, and -the note in the other, descended the stairs.</p> - -<p class="normal">The house was now in the bustle of morning preparation; housemaids -were sweeping, men-servants were taking away lamps and candlesticks, -and to one of the latter the note was delivered, with a half-crown, -and directions to send some lad immediately to Buxton's inn. That -being done, Ned Hayward strolled out into the park, taking his way -towards the stream, where we will join him by-and-by.</p> - -<p class="normal">We must now return to Mary Clifford, however, who stood where Ned -Hayward had left her in deep thought for several minutes. Had she been -the least of an actress, she would not have done so, for she might -have fancied that it would betray to her companion, as he walked away, -what was passing in her mind; but Mary was not the least of an -actress. Graceful by nature, ladylike and polished by heart and -education, it had never been necessary for her to picture to her own -imagination what others would think of any of her movements or words. -She was unaccustomed to do so. She never did it. She did not feel -herself upon a stage; she was never acting a part. How few there are -of whom we can say the same! But there she stood, silent, grave, and -thoughtful, with Hayward's words still ringing in her ear, his manner -still before her eyes; and both had been somewhat marked and peculiar. -But three minutes were all that she would give to such thoughts. They -came upon her in confused crowds, so numerous, so busy, so tumultuous, -that they frightened her; and, not being very brave by nature, she ran -away from them, to take refuge with the calmer but sterner meditations -regarding her uncle's situation. What was to be done, and how it was -to be done, were very puzzling questions, which she asked herself over -and over again, without receiving any satisfactory reply from her own -mind. Under the pressure of difficulties and dangers, whether -affecting ourselves, or those near and dear to us, there comes upon us -a necessity for action, a <i>cacoethes agenda</i>, which we can scarcely -restrain. We cannot sit down quietly and wait for time and -circumstances to present favourable opportunities, as we should do, -when the affairs in our hands were but matters of indifference to -ourselves; calm, business-like transactions, in which we have no -personal feeling. The heart comes in at every turn, and perplexes all -the fine plans of the head; and we must be up and doing, whether the -moment be favourable, or not. Mary Clifford felt all this, and was, in -some degree, aware of the unreasonableness of precipitancy. She -thought it might be better to wait and see, and yet anxiety, -eagerness, affection, urged her to do something, or something, at -least, for her uncle, as soon as possible. She could not rest under -the load; she felt as if activity would be almost a crime; and thought -she could see no light whichever way she turned, yet she resolved to -attempt something, not feeling very sure, whether she should do injury -or not.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was the course of her meditations, for nearly half an hour, after -Ned Hayward left her; and yet it must be confessed that, though these -meditations were upon painful subjects, they were not altogether -painful. Did you ever listen attentively, dear reader, to one of those -fine and masterly pieces of Beethoven's writings, where the great -composer seems to take a delight in puzzling and perplexing the hearer -drowning him, as it were, under a flood of harmony, where discords are -as frequently introduced as any thing else? But still, through them -all runs a strain of melody, which links them all together.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was very much the case of Mary Clifford. For, although the -general train of her thoughts was sombre, and there was much cause for -sadness in all she had heard, there was something very sweet--she -herself knew not what--that mingled with the old current of -reflection, and harmonised it beautifully. It was something -hopeful--expectant--trustful--a belief that by the agency of some one -all would go right.--Was it love? Was it the first dawn of that which, -to the young mind, is like the dawn of the morning, that softens and -beautifies every thing? I cannot tell; but, at all events, it was so -far undeveloped, that, like the strain of melody which pours through -the whole of a fine composition, giving a tone of richness and -sweetness to every part, it was undistinguishable from the rest, felt -and known to be there as a thing separate and alone, and yet -inseparable.</p> - -<p class="normal">Whenever she tried to distinguish it, fear seized upon her, and she -flew away again. Why was she happy, when all that she had heard was -the most likely to render her otherwise? She did not know, she would -not know; but still she gave way to the feeling, although she would -not give way to the thought; and while she shrunk from clothing her -own sensations in distinctness, longed to render them distinct, that -she might enjoy them more fully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will go and seek Isabella," she said, at length, "she must know of -this; and then we can all consult together, perhaps, if one can but -teach her light gay heart to be prudent and discreet--and yet," she -continued, thoughtfully, "she has, perhaps, more worldly wisdom than -myself, more knowledge of life and all life's things. Those who are -accustomed to commune much with their own thoughts, gain, I am afraid, -a conceit in their own opinion, which makes them undervalue those -which are formed upon a practical knowledge of the world. Isabella is -full of resources, and, perhaps, may devise many means that would -never strike me."</p> - -<p class="normal">These thoughts passed through her mind as she was approaching the -house, and very soon after she stood in her cousin's dressing-room, -finding her, even at that early hour, up and partly dressed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, dearest Mary," exclaimed Isabella, "where have you got all those -roses? The morning air must be very good for the health, as every one -says, to change your cheek, which was yesterday as pale as twilight, -into the very aspect of the dawn."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been out walking on the terrace, more than an hour," replied -Mary, "and I was pale yesterday, I suppose, from the fright of the -night before. I have had a companion, too, Isabella," she continued -gaily, though her voice trembled a little; "Captain Hayward came up -and joined me, and told me all his adventures of the night before."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" exclaimed Miss Slingsby, "his adventures must be very wild -and singular, I suppose; for his is just the spirit to seek them and -to make the most of them when he has got them. But what has happened -since, Mary?--We had all the details, you know, up to the period at -which, like Don Quixote, he arrived at an inn."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not think there is anything in the least like Don Quixote about -him, Isabella," replied Mary Clifford, gravely; "if he seeks -adventures, it is for the advantage of others."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So did Don Quixote," replied her cousin, giving her a sly smile; "but -what did he say, dear cousin?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, there was a great deal besides what you heard last night," -replied Miss Clifford, "you only had the sketch, the picture is still -to be filled up, and he had better do it for himself. However, I have -other things to talk to you about, Isabella, of more importance;" and -she glanced at the maid that was arranging her mistress's hair.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall be ready in a minute," answered Miss Slingsby; "make haste, -Minette, I think you have been longer than usual this morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">The maid, however, had a thousand reasons to give for being longer, -all perfectly valid in her own estimation; and, whether out of spite, -or in the hope that the two young ladies would grow tired of waiting -and say plainly all they had to say, I cannot tell, but she contrived -to occupy a full quarter of an hour more in dressing her mistress's -hair. Those who calculate upon the difficulty of carrying a secret are -rarely mistaken; but in this case Mademoiselle Minette did not arrive -at her end. Mary said nothing more; and, at length, the girl was -dismissed, and the two cousins were left alone together.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the name of fortune!" exclaimed Miss Slingsby, as soon as the maid -was gone; "what solemn thing have you got to tell? Has he proposed -already? On my word, it is a very speedy declaration!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary coloured like a rose, but answered gravely, "Dear Isabella, how -can you be so light? If you speak of Captain Hayward, our conversation -has been upon very different subjects, and was a very serious one. I -am afraid I shall have to distress you, Isabella, as much or more, -than his information distressed me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope not," replied Isabella. "I did not know at all that he was a -distressing person. I always thought him a very pleasant fellow, and -imagined you thought so too, dear cousin; but how has he contrived to -distress you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, by some news of no very pleasant character," answered Mary -Clifford, "he overheard, accidentally it seems, some conversation -relating to your father, from which he learned some particulars, that -grieve me greatly to hear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" cried Miss Slingsby, with a start; "they are not going to -shoot at him, I hope?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, dear no," replied Mary, "nothing of that kind; but about his -affairs generally."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, speak out boldly, Mary, dear," answered her cousin, "I see you -are going round the matter, love, for fear of vexing me; tell it at -once, whatever it may be. You know I have a bold heart, not easily put -down; and, though you judge me light and thoughtless, I know, believe -me, Mary, it is more a necessity of my situation than any thing else. -If I were to think by the hour together over all the things that are -unpleasant to me, as you or my dear aunt would do, I should only kill -myself without altering them. Papa has his own ways, which were formed -before I was born; and, coming so late in the day, I don't think I -have any right to meddle with them. I get out of the way of all that -is disagreeable to me as much as I can; and, when I can't, like a good -dutiful daughter, I submit. You know that he is, to use our good old -gardener's expression, 'as kind as the flowers in May;' and I should -be very ungrateful if I teazed him by constantly opposing habits which -I cannot change, and which are my elder brothers and sisters. My -philosophy may be a bad one, but pray leave it to me, Mary, for I -could not be happy with any other."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford took her cousin's hand and pressed it kindly in her own; -"I would not take it from you for the world," she said, "for I know -and understand all you feel, and am quite well aware that you are -performing the first of duties in endeavouring to make your father's -house as happy for him as you can, while you don't suffer your own -mind and manners to be tainted by customs you do not approve. You have -had a hard part to play, dear cousin, and you have played it well; but -it is not upon these subjects I come to speak to you, but upon one, -which though perhaps of less vital importance, unfortunately affects -the happiness of this life more. Your father's means and fortune, -which I am sorry to say, from all I hear, are very much embarrassed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good heavens! what do you mean?" exclaimed Isabella, gazing anxiously -in her face, and Mary went on as delicately as she could to tell her -all that Ned Hayward had communicated. At first, the poor girl seemed -overwhelmed, exclaiming, "A week before they call for such a large -sum! six weeks before the whole is finally gone from us! Good heavens, -Mary, what is to be done?"</p> - -<p class="normal">In a moment, however, she rallied: "Well," she exclaimed, "I have been -very blind--as blind as a great politician, Mary. A thousand things -should have prepared me for this that I now recollect, letters, and -messages and intimations of various kinds. That sleek knave, Wharton, -is at the bottom of it all; but he shall not crush me; and I dare say -we shall do very well with what is left. I have jewels and trinkets of -my own, and poor mamma's, to keep house for a longtime; and there must -be something left out of the wreck."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the thing is, if possible, to prevent the ship from being wrecked -at all," answered Mary Clifford; and she then went on to tell all that -Captain Hayward proposed to do, in order to prevent any immediate -catastrophe, not trusting her voice to comment upon his conduct for a -moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Isabella did it for her, "O, dear, kind, generous fellow," she -cried, "how I love him! Don't you, Mary? Although papa may have many -bad and foolish friends, you see there are some noble and wise -ones--but I'll tell you what, Mary, we'll go down and talk to him -after breakfast, and we'll all consult and see what is to be done; -we'll have a plot to serve papa, whether he will or not; and I declare -Mr. Beauchamp shall be one of the conspirators."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Just what I should propose," answered Mary Clifford; "for, although -you have known Mr. Beauchamp but a very short time--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A good deal longer than you have known Ned Hayward," answered Miss -Slingsby, with a smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, pray do be serious, Isabella," answered her cousin; "I was -going to say, though we have known Mr. Beauchamp but a very short -time, I do believe from various traits I have seen, I do think he is -an amiable and kind-hearted man, though perhaps somewhat cold and -stately."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, he may be warm enough, for aught we know," replied Miss Slingsby, -"but there is the breakfast bell; papa will be down and want his -coffee."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XIX.</h4> -<h5>The Struggle near the River.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Nobody could perceive at the breakfast-table that Sir John Slingsby -had suffered from the strong emotions by which we have seen him -influenced on the preceding night. No one could have conceived that -his state and fortune were in the tottering condition which Ned -Hayward had represented. He was as gay, as happy, as full of jest and -merriment as a schoolboy of seventeen. And as his sister was -peculiarly cheerful, it seemed to excite in him even a more merry and -jocund liveliness. To say the truth, Mrs. Clifford felt that her bond -was broken; that her visit to her brother's house, and her stay with -him, had unlinked one of the chains of cold and formal proprieties -which had been wound round her for so many years. Heaven knows, she -never wished to see, hear, or do, think, or countenance anything that -was evil; but yet her heart felt freer and lighter--it had more room -to expand. In fact the sunshine of early days seemed to be reflected -upon it, and it opened out to the light like a flower. She was gayer -than her daughter, though silent and still, except when called into -conversation by some lively sally; but she smiled, was good-humoured, -and answered even merrily, when a jest passed round, and seemed to -wonder at the more than wonted gravity of her Mary. Isabella was -almost too gay; as gay as the habits of the world and her own sense of -propriety permitted; but, to an observing eye this cheerfulness was -rather assumed than real; and to any one who, like Mary, had the -secret of her heart, it was very evidently affected to cover a deeper -and a graver current beneath.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, what's the news this morning?" said Sir John, as Isabella -poured out the tea and coffee; "a quarter to nine and no tidings -stirring? This seems to promise a dull day. Nobody's mill been burnt -down? Nobody's cat killed? Nobody's wife eloped? Nobody's daughter -gone to Gretna-green? Nobody's house been broken open, game stolen, -hen-roosts been plundered, pocket been picked, or nose been -pulled?--Faith we shall never get through the four-and-twenty hours -without something to enliven us. All the objects of country life -are gone. It seems to me that the world has turned as dead as a -horse-pond, and men and women nothing but the weed at the top, waiting -coolly in green indifference for the ducks to come and gobble them up. -Lack-a-day! lack-a-day! if we had but Ned Hayward here to cheer us up! -What can have become of him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, he has come back, my dear uncle," replied Mary; "I saw him upon -the terrace as I was taking my morning's walk."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then why is he not here?" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, "why is he -absent from his post? What business has he at Tarningham-park, unless -it be like a ray of the summer sunshine to make every thing gay around -him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He told me that he was going down to catch a trout," replied Miss -Clifford; "he has some bet with you, my dear uncle, it seems?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The boy is mad! irretrievably gone! Bedlam or Saint Luke's, or some -of those places they call a <i>private asylum</i>, is the only place for -him now," exclaimed Sir John Slingsby; "what, gone down to catch a -trout, without pausing to take either rest or breakfast, with his -hands burnt and a shot in his arm--so that fellow Gimlet said, they -tell me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He seemed very well," answered Miss Clifford; "and he said he had his -breakfast before he left the inn."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't believe a word of it," answered her uncle; "that's just one -of his old tricks, Mary; if there was any thing to be done, he used -never to mind breakfast, or dinner, or supper, or any thing else; the -matter was always done first, and then he did not mind a good dinner -and a bottle of claret, or even two, as the case might be. I never saw -such a fellow! We used to call him 'thoughtless Ned Hayward;' but the -fact is, he used to think more in five minutes than the rest of us -altogether in four-and-twenty hours, and then he was free for the -whole day--but here come the letters, and papers; we shall have some -news now, and we shall have something to laugh at, with, or because -of."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, Sir John took the bag which was brought to him by the -butler, opened it with a key attached to his watch-chain, and drew -forth the articles it contained one by one. First came a newspaper in -its cover--it was, I suppose, the Times, by its bulk--then another and -another. All these were laid down beside him; and next came the small -packet of letters, and then, oh! how eager all were to devour the -contents. Strange and mysterious mixture of old rags and size, what a -world of emotions have you conveyed about this earth! Not the most -terrible stage that has ever represented to the eyes of admiring -thousands the works of the poet, or displayed the skill of the actor, -has produced such deep tragedy as you. How often has the sight of the -thin folded sheet, with its strange, crooked black hieroglyphics, -overwhelmed the lightest and the gayest heart with heaviness and -mourning! how often changed the smile into the tear! how often swept -away the gay pageants of imagination, and memory, and hope, and left -the past all darkness, and the future all despair! But, on the -contrary, how often have ye been the unexpected messengers of -happiness and joy! how often have ye brought sunshine and light into -the benighted breast! how often dispelled in a moment the dark -thunder-clouds of the world's blackest storms,--aye, and sometimes, -too, have closed as with a lightning-flash, the black tempestuous day -of a long sorrowful life, with a gleam of ecstasy, too intense and -potent to survive!</p> - -<p class="normal">All eyes turned eagerly to Sir John Slingsby, while he looked over the -letters. The first was in a stiff and clerk-like hand, which he put -down beside him with a low chuckle, which probably indicated an -intention of not reading it at all. The next displayed a scrawl, -written as if with a butcher's skewer, thin, straggling, and -irregular, like the scratching of a hen in the last agony. That met -the fate of the former one. Then came an address in a good, bold, -dashing hand, with a name written in the corner.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, ah!" cried he, "from Tom South, about the borough of -Twistandskin. Before I stand, I'll see him--Lord bless me, what -was I going to say?" and putting his hand to his mouth, he looked to -his sister with a low laugh; but that letter was put at a little -distance from the two others. "Ah! Mr. Beauchamp, here is one for -you," continued the baronet, "sent up with the postmaster's -compliments!--damn his compliments! who wants his compliments?" and he -gave the letter over to Beauchamp, who was sitting at the opposite -side of the table next his daughter. "My dear Harriet, do try that -pasty, it is excellent; or take something, in the name of -Heliogabalus; this is not a fast-day, is it? There's the best ham that -ever came out of Yorkshire, on the side-board. There, Isabella, -there's an epistle for you, from one of your sweet, maudlin, blond and -satin friends in London, as soft and insipid as a glass of orgeate, -I'll answer for it; full of loves, and dears, and sweet friends, and -languishing for your darling society, and wondering what you can be -doing in the country, spending your beauty on the desert air. Don't -let me hear a word of it; I hate them all; and, if I had my will, -would smother them all to death under eiderdown quilts. Pray read your -letter, Mr. Beauchamp. Every body in this world is anxious to read -their letters but me; and as yours may very likely require an answer, -you had better look at it at once; for one post here goes out at -eleven."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, Sir John Slingsby, in the latter part of his speech, showed -himself considerate; for Mr. Beauchamp, during the first part of -breakfast, had borne a very grave and business-like air. He had given -himself up, it is true, to a more cheerful spirit on the day before; -he had been calmly cheerful at dinner; gay in the evening; especially -when he was near Miss Slingsby. But who is not gay in the evening -hours, when the whole nervous fluid seems to have accumulated about -the brain and the heart, when the anticipated, or actual labours of -the day are over, the apportioned task of care and anxiety are done? -The load of the four-and-twenty hours is thrown off, and we snatch at -the brief portion that remains between labour and repose for -enjoyment. Who is not gay, when beauty and cheerfulness pour their -mingled rays upon us, flooding our feelings and our thoughts with a -bright, happy, and congenial stream? Take a glass of iced-water, dear -reader--as cold as you will, so that it be not actually frozen--and -pour into it a merry glass of warm champagne; see how it will sparkle -and dance up to the brim; and, unless the heart of man is a mass of -ice indeed, such will be the effect upon it of mere association with -youth, beauty, and innocent gaiety.</p> - -<p class="normal">But since then, Beauchamp had slept upon the matter. The night before -he had gone on with the current; and now time had been afforded him to -ask himself how far that current had carried him. He was doubtful -whether he had not been borne too far; there were doubts, hesitations, -apprehensions in his mind; and he was grave--very grave indeed. He had -wished Miss Slingsby good-morning, he had expressed a hope she had -rested well, he had been most gracefully courteous--too courteous; for -very polished surfaces are generally cold; and Isabella, who had come -down with the intention of speaking to him frankly and freely upon -matters that interested her deeply, had shrunk into herself more than -was her wont.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp opened the letter, however, with rather a languid and -unexpectant air, but the first words seemed to rivet his attention. -The eye of Isabella, without her will, or rather against it, fixed -upon him. She saw his cheek turn pale, then glow again warmly, and -then a glad and well-satisfied smile curled his lip. He ended the -letter, and, looking towards the ceiling, his lips moved for an -instant, and, folding up the paper, he put it in his pocket, giving -way for a few seconds to thought, which did not seem unsatisfactory.</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella Slingsby was the most straightforward girl in the world, by -nature; and she had but one class of experimental teaching in regard -to concealing her feelings. She could hide, occasionally, how much she -disliked some of her father's guests; she could conceal from him how -painful to her was much that she saw under his own roof. In every -thing else, however, she was as frank as the day; and, seeing Mr. -Beauchamp receive a letter, and look not discontented with it, she -said, somewhat inconsiderately:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You seem to have had pleasant intelligence, Mr. Beauchamp?"</p> - -<p class="normal">That gentleman turned his eyes suddenly upon her, and very fine and -lustrous eyes they were, and he gazed at her for an instant with a -smile so blended with many emotions, that Isabella, she knew not why, -cast down her eyes, and coloured. After a brief pause, he replied:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not unpleasant, Miss Slingsby; for so strange a thing is the heart of -man, or, rather I should say, so strange a thing is his fate, that, in -the course of years and with the change of circumstances, there will -be pleasure even in the total ending of what were once bright hopes. -The things we coveted and obtained, in the world's variation become -burdensome to us; as, at the end of a long day's journey, we lay down -with relief the weight which, at the outset, we carried with joy or -pride."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is because men are so fickle, I suppose," answered Isabella. -"The only constant beings on earth are women and Newfoundland dogs, -Mr. Beauchamp--it is so, I assure you, whatever you may think of it. I -know the wicked world takes a different view of the subject; but the -world is man's; and women might very well say a different picture -would be produced, 'if we lions were painters!'"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," answered Beauchamp, laughing, "I am not one of those evil -speakers and slanderers. I have had time to observe in the world where -I have been these many years as a mere spectator, watching the -characters of men and women; and I can justly say, that there are, at -least, ten good women for one good man. Circumstances may have -something to do with it; education, opportunity for good or evil; but -still there must be a fine and pure spirit at the heart, teaching to -avoid evil and to seek good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I believe, in truth, there is," answered Mrs. Clifford, joining in -the conversation; "and that the bent of almost every woman's mind is -towards that which is right. But if you are the creatures of -circumstances, Mr. Beauchamp, we are, in many, respects, the creatures -of your hands; you give the bent and the direction of somewhat more -than half our thoughts, I am afraid, and are--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To be blamed, if you go wrong," exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, with a -loud laugh; "to be sure, to be sure; that is a woman's philosophy, my -dear Harriet; all that she does good is her own, all that she does -wrong is man's; but let me tell you, my dear sister, that there is no -little doubt, in the minds of the best informed, which has the most -influence; man over woman, or woman over man. I am of the last -opinion; and I see it every day in my case and that of others; here -this girl, Isabella, rules me with a rod of iron--does any thing she -likes with me; but, by my faith, for this day I shall abstract myself -from her authority; for I have some business to settle during the -morning; and she must entertain her guests as she can. Mr. Beauchamp, -if you leave my house during the next four-and-twenty hours, it will -be a clear proof that Miss Slingsby does not entertain you properly; -and I shall be very angry with her inhospitality, if I do not find you -at lunch and dinner, tea and supper, and breakfast to-morrow morning; -for I shall be quite sure she has not made my house agreeable."</p> - -<p class="normal">"An imputation that I should be the last to bring upon Miss Slingsby," -said Mr. Beauchamp; and in truth he seemed to feel what he said; for -when they rose from the breakfast-table, and the party sauntered to -the window, in that pleasant indolence which generally succeeds the -first meal of the day--that five minutes that succeeds to breakfast, -in short, before we put on the armour of active exertion--he attached -himself closely to Miss Slingsby's side, engaged her in conversation -so light and cheerful, that the whole character of the man seemed -changed. Not that what he said was without thought; for there was a -deep undercurrent of reflection running all the time, which gave it -quite a different tone from what is called small-talk. It was -sparkling, brilliant, even playful; but its principal effect on the -minds of those who heard was to set them thinking. There was a marked -attention in his manner towards Isabella Slingsby, which flattered her -a little. She might have perceived before that he was struck with her -beauty, that he admired her, that he liked her society, when he had -twice or thrice met her at Dr. Miles's. She had thought him -exceedingly agreeable, and had fancied that he thought her so too; but -there had been nothing said or done--not one word, one look, one -gesture, that could set imagination flying any further; and she had -rested satisfied with letting things take their course, without any -other feeling than a slight degree of regret that her father had not -made the acquaintance of one so superior in manners and in mind to the -generality of those around. During the preceding evening, Beauchamp -had appeared in no other character than that of the calm, dignified, -quiet, and well-informed gentleman. But after breakfast his attentions -were more pointed; and Isabella felt a little agitated, and doubtful -of what all this would come to. She was not fond of any thing that -agitated her: and therefore, somewhat more abruptly than was -necessary, she broke through the conversation that was going on -saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Beauchamp, Mary and I have entered into a compact to go down and -see Captain Hayward win his bet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What bet?" asked Beauchamp, who had forgotten all about it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To catch the largest trout in the river before twelve o'clock," -replied Isabella; "will you escort us? My dear aunt, won't you come -too?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, my dear," answered Mrs. Clifford; "I have letters to write, too, -like your father."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have no letters to write," exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, somewhat -petulantly; "I wish I had nothing less pleasant to do; but I have to -see the steward and a damned lawyer about business--the greatest bores -on earth. I wish to Heaven Peter the Great had been but autocrat of -England for a bare month. Heaven and earth! how he would have thinned -the roll of attorneys!--or if we could but bring them under the -cutting and maiming act, what hanging and transporting we should have. -I am sure they cut up our time and our comforts, maim our property, -and cripple our resources. But the devil never abandons his own; and -so they slip out of every noose that is made to catch them. There's -that fellow, Stephen Gimlet, can make, they say, springes that will -catch woodcocks and snipes, hares, pheasants, partridges, ruffs, and -rees; hang me, if I don't ask him if he has not got any trap that will -strangle an attorney."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If he fails, ask Ned Hayward," said Isabella, half jokingly, half -earnestly; "I have no doubt he would furnish you with what you want."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps he would, perhaps he would," answered Sir John; "not a bad -thought, Bella; but hang it, I must go and see the steward before that -fellow Wharton comes. So good bye, good bye, for the present. Mind the -luncheon time; and if Ned loses and does not bring me home a trout of -at least three pounds, we'll drink his health in a bottle of the old -hermitage--get your shawls and bonnets, get your shawls and bonnets; -and now, Harriet, if you want to send over to your place, be quick -with your letters, for I have got a man going to Tarningham at -twelve."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Clifford left the room with her brother, and was followed -immediately by her daughter and niece. Beauchamp walked out into the -hall, and got his hat, gave some directions to one of the servants in -regard to sending up some of his clothes from the inn at Tarningham, -when any body was sent down to the town; and then returned to the -window of the breakfast-room. There he paused and looked out, -revolving various things in his mind, and coming to the half-muttered -conclusion, at length: "It must be so, it is quite clear--it is -certain." But when any one determines that a thing is quite clear, is -certain, before we agree with him in opinion, we should know what -other trains of thought are going on in his mind at the moment, -jostling this idea and that out of their right places, leaving others -far behind, and stimulating others again to run at lightning speed, -the Lord knows whither, to win their race. It is not at all -impossible, that if you or I, dear reader, could see into Mr. -Beauchamp's mind at this moment, we might come to a very different -conclusion on the premises, and think that the proposition was any -thing but, <i>quite</i> clear, the result not at all <i>certain</i>.</p> - -<p class="normal">However that might be, there he stood with his hat in his hand, in -very good spirits, when Miss Slingsby and her cousin appeared.</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella was rather fluttered, as we have said, about something or -another; she felt a timidity that was not usual with her, and she got -her cousin between herself and Mr. Beauchamp before they reached the -door, as if she intended that he should offer Mary Clifford his arm. -Beauchamp manœuvred so skilfully, however, that before they were -through the door and down the steps, he was by Isabella's side again, -and, as she had two sides, one of which was certain to be unprotected, -while that side was almost certain to be the point of attack to a -dexterous enemy, she gave up the battle at once, and let things take -their course.</p> - -<p class="normal">The walk, as Isabella managed it, was an exceedingly pleasant one. In -the first place, there were the beauties of nature. To what heart, -under what circumstances, do the beauties of nature fail to bring -sweet feelings? There is something in the universe, of which we have -no definite conception; perhaps, it is too universal, too wide, too -vast, to submit itself to any thing like demonstration. We all feel -it, we all know it, we all enjoy it. The ancients and some of the -moderns have deified it and called it Pan. It is, in fact, the -universal adaptation of one thing to another: the harmony of all God's -works; the infinite music of an infinite variety. It is figured in -music--faintly figured; for music is only the image of the whole by a -part; the sequence of bright things is the melody of creation; their -synchronous existence, the harmony of God's Almighty will. But in -this, as in all else, woe be unto those who have worshipped the -creature of the Creator, and who have mistaken this grand harmony in -the infinity of created things, for the Godhead itself. It is but one -of the expressions of Almighty love, and those expressions are as -infinite as the love from which they emanate. It is our finite, our -contracted, our exceedingly minute view of all things, that constantly -keeps us down from the contemplation and the conception of the -immeasurable to that which is within the ken of our own microscopic -vision. If creation itself is infinite, the infinite harmony thereof -is but a part of creation, and is in itself a proof of that -intelligent Providence, which man denies, because he does not see.</p> - -<p class="normal">The walk was an exceedingly pleasant one, coming in varied scenes upon -the mind, each contrasted with the other, yet each harmonising -beautifully. After about a hundred and fifty or two hundred yards of -short turf they entered a glade, where tall trees, backed by deep -shrubs, cut off the sunbeams, except where here and there they -struggled through an open spot. Tall beeches, more than a century old, -crossed their arms above to give shade to the ground below, and though -the walk, nearly fifty feet in breadth from bole to bole of the old -trees, was mown along its whole extent, yet a little to one side and -the other the wild flowers appeared gemming the earth like stars upon -a firmament of green. There was the purple columbine and the blue -periwinkle, and the yellow primrose, and the pale bending anemone; the -hyacinth and the violet; and if art had had any share therein, the -arrangement of the flowers was so skilfully managed, that all seemed -owing but to nature's hand. The deep branches of the beech, and the -green shade that they cast through the air, gave a solemn and -elevating tone to the whole. The flowers and the occasional bursts of -sunshine, the rich colours of the moss, yellow and brown, and green, -enlivened the scene, and made the solemn stillness of the long avenue -seem like a thoughtful countenance brightened by a smile. Then -suddenly, when they had walked on for about a quarter of a mile, they -turned to the left through a wide break in the alley, and all was -wonderfully changed. Shade and melancholy was gone; and they stood -upon the edge of a round sloping descent of some three or four hundred -feet covered with green short turf, and marked out, at short -distances, by chumps of birches and hawthorns. On the right was the -woody crest of the hill, concealing in its bosom the continuation of -the avenue, which they had just quitted; but on the left, wide over -the tree tops and waving ground beyond, stretched out an extensive -prospect in the sunshine, all light and loveliness. It was one of the -bright days of early summer. Scarcely a cloud was in the sky, and yet -there was a softening effect in the atmosphere, which mellowed the -lights and shades into each other, and suffered the sight to pass -softly and gently from each line of the distance to that which -succeeded with a sort of dreamy pleasure, vague and indefinite, but -very sweet, like the sounds that sometimes come upon our sleeping ears -in the visions of the morning.</p> - -<p class="normal">Skirting along the hill with a gradual descent, the broad gravel-walk -plunged into the valley, and there all was altered once more. A wide -and uncultivated wood swept round, a small sparkling rivulet dashing -on towards the broader stream amidst bushes and shrubs and water -plants; a willow here and there bending down its long pliant branches -over the glittering stream, and a patch of tall bulrushes raising -their long green stems, where any occasional interruption occasioned -the water to spread out. The trees were far apart, though the ground -was broken and uneven, and the flapping wing of a heron, with his gray -shadowy form rising up at some fifty or sixty yards' distance, added -to the saddening and sombering effect. It was like a discord in a fine -piece of music: just protracted long enough to make what had gone -before and what followed after more delightful, and the next minute -they issued forth upon the warm green meadows, gilded with buttercups, -that lay by the side of the wider river.</p> - -<p class="normal">Heaven only knows what Isabella meant in bringing Beauchamp by that -path, if she did not intend him to make love to her. She could have -taken him round by the other side of the house, and the straight -horse-road to the bridge, or down over the turf through the open parts -of the park, amongst the deer and fern to the farther end of the -river, where it issued out of the grounds. But no, whether from -something that was going on in her own bosom, which made her -instinctively choose the scenes that most assimilated with her -feelings, or from accident, caprice, or design, she led him through a -path, full of the sense of love. There was one too many for a -declaration, it is true; and she knew she was so far guarded; but yet -it was a very dangerous walk for any two people, whose hearts had no -better security than the simple presence of another, to stray along -upon such a day as that.</p> - -<p class="normal">The letter, which Beauchamp had received at breakfast, had evidently -either pleased, or entertained, or relieved him; but the effect was, -that he was infinitely gayer when he set out than he had ever been -since we have first met with him. He crossed the open ground by -Isabella's side with a firmer and more elastic step, with his head -high and his shoulders back, he gazed over the wide-spread park -scenery around, and seemed to snuff the air like a horse about to -start upon a race. He commented upon the loveliness of such views, -remarked how very English they were--how very seldom one ever saw any -thing similar in any other land--and seemed to enjoy the whole so -highly, as to leave an impression that the pleasure of the walk was -heightened by the society in which it was taken. When he came under -the shade of the tall trees his tone was somewhat changed, it became -softer, more serious, more earnest; and so he went on, his thoughts -seeming to receive a colouring from the scenery through which he -passed, without losing their general character, or particular train at -the moment. It was evident through all that he was thinking of -Isabella Slingsby; and though, with finished courtesy, he divided his -conversation very equally--not quite--between her and her cousin, yet -even when he was speaking to Mary Clifford, it was very evident that -his words, or at all events, his thoughts, were addressed to Isabella.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary said little, except just to keep up the conversation and deprive -it of any thing like awkwardness; but she felt, and indeed nobody -could help feeling, that Mr. Beauchamp's manner towards her cousin was -too marked and particular to be mistaken. Isabella, on her part, gave -way to all the gaiety of her heart, sometimes with bright and laughing -sallies playing round Beauchamp's more earnest and deep-toned -thoughts, sometimes yielding to the impulse which she imparted, and -venturing into the deep waters of feeling and reflection, whither he -led her, till startled at herself she took fright and retreated. She -was very happy, too; secure in Mary's presence from any thing that -might agitate or alarm, she felt that she could give way to the -pleasure of the moment; and even the knowledge of her father's -situation and of the dangers and difficulties that beset him acted but -as a softening and subduing power, which brought down her spirits from -their habitual gaiety, and rendered her heart more susceptible of -tenderer and deeper impressions.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp felt that he was listened to, that he pleased, that he might -be beloved. He had seen nothing coquettish about Isabella; he had -heard a high character of her; he had been told by one, who had known -her from childhood, that she seemed lighter than she really was; that -if there was any thing assumed, it was the gaiety; that all the more -profound things, that occasionally appeared in her character, might be -trusted and relied upon; and that the seemingly high spirits were but -as the breeze, that ruffles the tree tops without touching the depth -of the forest. He felt sure, therefore, that she would not sport with -him, if she believed he was in earnest, and he took care, that upon -that subject she should have little doubt.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus passed away their walk; and though Mary Clifford would have given -a great deal, had she dared to venture, to make Mr. Beauchamp a sharer -in the secret of Sir John Slingsby's affairs, and asked the advice and -assistance of one who had evidently gained much experience of the -world, without being spoiled by the world, yet she knew not how to -begin; a feeling of timidity came over her that stopped her; and the -course of the conversation--its sparkling rapidity at some times, its -deep and intense feelings at others--gave no opportunity of -introducing a subject entirely discordant, without forcing it in a -manner both harsh and discourteous. She determined, therefore, as they -approached the river, to leave the matter to Captain Hayward, whose -frank straightforwardness, she thought, would soon either find or make -an opportunity.</p> - -<p class="normal">When they reached the bank, however, Captain Hayward was not to be -seen; but Isabella pointed to an elbow of the wood, which concealed a -turn in the stream, saying that he was most likely higher up, and -accordingly they walked on. As they were passing through the little -path that cut through an angle of the woodland, they heard suddenly a -loud exclamation, then a very ungentlemanly oath, and the next moment, -as they issued forth, they saw Ned Hayward grappling with a tall, -powerful man, in what may be called a semi-military dress. The two -were, apparently, well matched, though few, either in strength, -activity, or skill, could match our friend. But the stranger, whoever -he was, practised a trick, which he thought likely to free himself -from his adversary, even at the risk of his own life. He struggled -hard, and in the struggle drew towards the brink. Ned Hayward made a -violent effort to resist the impulse, and most likely would have been -successful; for, if any thing, he was the stronger man of the two. But -a part of the green turf gave way, undermined by the course of the -current, and both plunged in together into a deep pool, and -disappeared for an instant in the water.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XX.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">A map is a very useful thing: I wonder what people did without it -before it was invented. Yet there were great travellers in those days, -too, both by land and water. Adam began the first, and Noah the -second, and they managed very well without either chart or compass, so -that it is evident those instruments are nothing but luxuries, and -ought to be done away with. Nevertheless, I feel that I should be much -better off, and so would the reader too, if I could give here, on this -page, a map of the county of ----, just to show him the relative -position of the place called Buxton's Inn and the little village of -Coldington-cum-Snowblast, which lay nearly north-west of Buxton's Inn, -and at the distance, by the road, of about six miles. The innkeepers -charge seven miles' posting, because it was the seventeenth part of a -furlong beyond the six miles. However, a dreary little village it was, -situated on one of the two roads to London, which was indeed somewhat -shorter than the other, but so hilly, so tiresome, so bleak, and so -stiff, as the post-boys termed it, that man and beast alike preferred -the other road, and generally went to and from Tarningham by Buxton's -Inn. Nevertheless, it was absolutely necessary that a pair or two of -posters should be kept at Coldington, as that was the only direct road -to several considerable towns; and though it was only an eight-mile -stage, yet the cattle, when they had got over the hills, had no -inclination to go further. The post-horses had engendered a -public-house, which was designated by courtesy an inn, but it was a -very solitary one, with very few visitors but those who took a glass -of beer or spirits at the bar, and a chance mercantile traveller, who -came to supply the two shops that ornamented the village, and slept -there for the night.</p> - -<p class="normal">At a very early hour of the morning, however, on the day of which we -have just been speaking, a post-chaise drew up to the door with horses -from Buxton's Inn, and a fresh relay was immediately ordered to carry -the travellers on towards Bristol. A tall, powerful, showily-dressed -man got out with a lady closely veiled, whose costume spoke of -Parisian manufacture; and while the portmanteaux and other articles of -baggage were being taken into the doorway till they could be placed -upon the new chaise, the gentleman paid the post-boy, and then asked -if he was going back directly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In about an hour, Sir," replied the man, touching his hat, with the -look of one well satisfied with his fee.</p> - -<p class="normal">But at this reply the traveller looked blank, and said, "Well, it does -not matter. I must get some lad to run over across the moor with this -note to Mr. Wittingham. Just see for some one, my good fellow. He -shall have half-a-crown for his pains."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the post-boy was not such a goose as to let the half-crown slip by -him, and, with the most respectful air in the world, he assured the -gentleman that he was quite ready to go that minute, and that he had -only proposed to stay an hour because he did not know--how should -he?--that the other wanted to send back.</p> - -<p class="normal">The note and the half-crown were immediately given, the post-boy got -into his saddle again, resisted the soft entreaties of the ostler to -take a glass of something, and trotted away. No sooner was he gone, -however, in the full persuasion that ere a quarter of an hour was over -his two travellers would be on their way to Bristol, than the -gentleman he left behind seemed to have suddenly changed his mind. The -horses were countermanded, a room upstairs looked at, some breakfast -ordered, and there he and his fair companion seemed disposed to pass -the day. After a short but hearty breakfast, which was crowned by a -glass of brandy, upon the strength of such an early drive, the -gentleman himself sallied forth, saying to the lady, "I must see that -fellow Stephen, and find out if he has peached. If he has, we had -better get over the water for a while, at all events; though they can -prove nothing, I am sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will take your rash, wild ways, love," answered the lady, in a -languid tone; "and then you are sure to get into a scrape." But the -gentleman did not wait for the end of the admonition, leaving the room -and shutting the door behind him.</p> - -<p class="normal">We will stay with the lady, however, and a very pretty woman she was, -though, indeed, there had been a time when she was prettier. She was -certainly not less than three or four-and-thirty, with good, small -features, and a complexion which had once been exceedingly fine. It -had become somewhat coarse now, however, and looked as if the process -of deterioration had been assisted by a good deal of wine, or some -other stimulant perhaps still more potent. Her eyes were fine dark -eyes, but they had grown somewhat watery, and there was an occasional -vacancy in them, a wandering uncertainty that bespoke either some -intense preoccupation with other subjects than those immediately in -question, or some failure of the intellect, either from temporary or -permanent causes. Her figure was tall and fine, and her dress very -handsome in materials and make; but yet there was a something about it -too smart. There was too much lace and ribbon, too many bright and -gaudy colours, too much flutter and contrast, to be perfectly -ladylike. There was also a negligence in the way of putting it -on--almost a slovenliness, if one may go that length, which made -things nearly new look old and dirty.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her air and manner, too, were careless and languid; and as she set -herself down on one chair, then moved to another, and rested her feet -upon a third, it seemed as if something was continually weighing upon -her mind, which yet wanted vigour and solidity enough to make an -effort to cast it off.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not that she seemed to mope at being left alone by her male -companion, or that she felt or cared for his absence very much, -although she evidently deemed his plans and purposes imprudent and -perilous. Far from it: she was as gay, or perhaps gayer, when he was -gone than before; sang a little bit of an Italian song, took a small -note-book out of her bag and wrote in it some lines, which seemed, by -their regular length, to be verses; and then, getting up again, she -opened a portmanteau, brought out a book, and began to read. She had -not continued long, however, when she seemed to become tired of that -also, and putting back the book again, gave herself up to thought, -during the course of which her face was chequered with slight smiles -and slight frowns, neither of which had the most pleasant expression -in the world. There was a littleness in it all, indeed, a sort of -careless indolence, which perhaps bespoke a disposition hackneyed and -spoiled by the pleasures, if not the pains of life. And there she sat, -casting away from her everything but thought, as if there were nothing -in the world valuable or important, except the little accidents, that -might disturb or promote her own individual comfort. The maid who -carried away the breakfast things informed the landlady that "the -woman upstairs was a taking on it easy, a sitting with her feet on one -of the best chears." And although the good dame did not think fit to -object to this proceeding, she mentally commented on it thus: "Them -quality-folks is always giving themselves airs; but if she spiles my -new kivers, I'll take it out in the bill, anyhow."</p> - -<p class="normal">After this state of things had continued for somewhat more than an -hour and a half, the gentleman came back, apparently in great haste, -dripping like a Newfoundland dog, and, calling to the ostler before he -ran upstairs, directed him to put-to the horses as soon as possible. -Then, running up, he entered the room where he had left the lady, -exclaiming, "Quick, Charlotte, we must be off like the devil!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, what's the matter, Moreton?" she said, without moving an inch. -"You are all dripping wet; you have met with some adventure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And something else, too," answered the gentleman. "I have met with -that devil of a fellow again, and he recognised me and tried to stop -me, but I pulled him into the river, and left him there, getting to -the other bank Heaven knows how. All I am sure of is, that I kept his -head under water for two or three minutes; for he fell undermost. But -I have not time to talk more now, for we must go as if Satan drove us, -and I will tell you more as we go along."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope he's drowned," said the lady, with the sweetest possible -smile; "it is an easy death, they say. I think I shall drown myself -one day or other."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pooh!" said the gentleman. "But come along, come along! I have -something to tell you of Charles; so make haste."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of Charles!" exclaimed the lady, starting up as if suddenly roused -from a sort of stupor, while a look of intense and fiery malignity -came into her face. "What of him? Have you seen him? Did he see you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know," answered her companion. "But come along;" and taking -up one of the portmanteaus as the chaise drove up to the door, he -hurried down, and sent up for the other. The lady followed with a -quick step, drawing her veil over her face; for she now seemed to be -all life and eagerness; and while the gentleman was paying the bill, -she got into the chaise and beat the bottom of the vehicle with her -small foot, as if impatient for his coming.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before he could reach the door, after having paid the bill, however, a -man on horseback galloped quickly up, and, springing to the ground, -caught the gentleman by the arm, exclaiming, "Why, hang it, Moreton, -you have played me a scurvy trick, to go off and leave me before it -was daylight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I could not help it, my dear Wittingham," replied the other: "I was -obliged to be off; there is a d--d cousin of mine down here whom I -would not have see me for the world. You must not stop me now, by -Jove; for they have found out where I am, and I expect him to pay his -respects very soon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Devil take it! that's unfortunate," cried Wittingham, "I wanted you -to go and call out that meddling scoundrel, Hayward, whom I told you -of. He bolted into my room last night, and he told me he had -horsewhipped me once, and would horsewhip me again whenever he met me, -if I could not get some gentleman of honour to arrange a meeting with -him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my life, I can't stay," cried the other, "though I should like -to see you shoot him, too, if he is alive, which I have some doubts -of--but stay," he continued, after a moment's thought, "I will find a -man for you, and I will send him down without loss of time--Major -Woolstapler; he has been lately in foreign service, but that's all the -same, and he's a capital hand at these things; and, if you follow his -advice, you will shoot your man to a certainty--he shall be down -before three days are over; I am off for Bristol, and so up the Cath -road to London. We shall get there to-night; and he will be down -to-morrow or the next day early. He'll hear of you at Buxton's, I -suppose. Good-by, good-by." And he jumped into the chaise.</p> - -<p class="normal">A moment after, as soon as the door was shut, he seemed to recollect -something, and putting his head out of the window he beckoned up young -Wittingham, saying, in a low voice, "You'll need the bull-dogs, so -I'll send you down mine. Tell Woolstapler to contrive that you have -number one. It will do his business, if tolerably well handled--and I -say, Wittingham, don't mention to any one that you have seen me either -here or at Oxford. My cousin fancies I am in India still." Then -turning to the postillion, he said, "Go on and brush along fast. -Sixpence a mile for good going."</p> - -<p class="normal">Never was such an intimation given to a postillion without the horses -suffering for it. I actually once made a Bavarian go seven miles and a -half an hour between Ulm and Augsburg by the same process. I record it -as amongst the memorable events of my life, proudly satisfied that no -man upon earth ever did the same, either before or since. On the -present occasion, the postillion, without fear, struck his spurs into -the horse's side, laid the whip over the back of the other with that -peculiar kind of gentle application which intimated that if the -brown-coated gentleman did not get on as hard as his four legs would -carry him, the instrument of propulsion would fall more heavily the -next time; and away they went, at a pace which was a canter up hill, a -trot down, and a gallop over the flat. Captain Moreton leaned back in -the chaise and murmured, "We've cut them, by Jove!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what is to be the end of all this?" asked the lady, who seemed to -be now thoroughly roused: "if that man is to go on for ever having his -own way I do not see any thing that is to be gained. We cannot keep -this up much longer, Moreton; and so you thought two days ago. I shall -be compelled to come forward and claim the arrears of the annuity by -actual want of money. You told me, when we were at the inn there, that -you had but ten pounds left, and now you seem to take a different view -of the subject. You men are certainly the most vacillating creatures -in the world."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," answered Moreton, bowing his head with an air of persiflage, -"ladies, it must be owned, are superior to us in that, as in -everything else. Two or three months ago you seemed enchanted with -your plan, and declared, though it had not answered yet, it would -answer in the end. I only thought it would not answer for want of -means, otherwise I was as well disposed towards it as you could be. -Now, on the contrary, you are eager to abandon it, while I wish to -pursue it, for this simple reason: that I have got the means of -carrying it on for some time at least, and see the greatest -probability of success. You must recollect, my dear Charlotte, that -this is not a matter where a few hundreds or a few thousand pounds are -at stake, but many thousands a-year."</p> - -<p class="normal">As usually happens--for nobody ever hears or attends to more, at the -utmost, than the twentieth part of what is said to them, the lady's -mind fixed upon one particular sentence, without listening to anything -more, and she repeated, as if contemplating and doubting, "You have -got the means! You have the means!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, indeed, I have," answered Captain Moreton, with a smile; "I have -got the means; for, while you were thinking I was doing nothing, I was -shrewdly laying out my own plans, by which I have contrived to screw -full five hundred pounds out of that terrible miser, Wharton. Was not -that somewhat like a <i>coup?</i> With that we can live for some five or -six months in Paris--economically, you know, my love--we must not have -champagne and oysters every day; but we can do well enough; and before -the time is out, the very event we wished to bring about will have -happened; otherwise my name is not Moreton. I can see very well how -matters are going. He is caught: for the first time in his life really -and truly captivated; and, if we but take care to play our game well, -he will be married and completely in our power within a few weeks. I -know he will never be able to stand that; and there will but be one -choice before him, either to buy you off at the highest possible -price, or--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Buy me!" cried the lady; "if he had the diamond mines of Golconda, he -could not buy me! If he could coin every drop of blood in his heart -into a gold piece, I would see him mind them all to the very last, and -then refuse them all with scorn and contempt. No, no, I will bring him -to public shame and trial; I will make him a spectacle, have him -condemned as a malefactor, break his proud spirit and his hard heart, -and then leave him to his misery, as he has left me. For this I have -toiled and longed; for this I have saved and scraped, like the veriest -miser that ever worshipped Mammon in his lowest shape; for this I -saved every sixpence, and lived in self-inflicted poverty and neglect, -till I met you, Moreton, in order to hoard enough to keep me, till -this revenge could be accomplished; and often, very often since, I -have been tempted to curse you for having, by the extravagance you -taught and practised, squandered away the very means of obtaining all -that I have longed and pined for."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You speak in a very meek and Christian spirit," cried Captain -Moreton, with a laugh; "but, nevertheless, I will not quarrel with it, -Charlotte; for your revenge would serve my purposes too. If we could -but get him to commit himself beyond recall, I am his next heir, you -know, my dear; and, therefore, the sooner he goes to heaven or Botany -Bay, the better for me--don't you think that we could contrive to get -up a very well authenticated report of your death in some of the -newspapers, with confirmations of all kinds, so as to leave no doubts -in his mind?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Moreton, upon my life I believe you are a fool," cried the lady, -bitterly; "would he not plead that as his excuse?--no, no, if I could -so manage it, and, Heaven or the devil send me wit, I care not which, -to do it, I would contrive to make him fancy my death certain by small -indications, such as none but himself could apply, and which, to the -minds of others would seem but frivolous pretexts if brought forward -in his own justification. If you can help me to such a plan, I will -thank you; if not, we must trust to fortune."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith! I see no means to accomplish that," cried Moreton.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now then, let us talk no more about it," answered the lady; and -sinking back into the chaise, she relapsed into that state of seeming -apathy, from which nothing but passion had the power to rouse her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the way," said Captain Moreton, after about a quarter of an hour's -consideration, while the chaise rolled rapidly along, "all those -things that you had in Paris, clocks and chimney ornaments, and such -like things, what has become of them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, they are of little value, Moreton," said the lady; "a thousand -franks would buy them all; the worth would not last you ten minutes at -roulette."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," answered Captain Moreton, taking no notice whatever of the -bitterness with which she spoke; "but I was thinking that they might -be more serviceable at hazard."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do you mean?" she asked, abruptly, fixing her eyes upon him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I want to know where they are," answered Captain Moreton, in a cool -tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why you know very well," she answered, sharply, "when I left Paris -two years ago with you, I told the girl, Jeanette, to take care of -them till I came back. I dare say she has pawned or sold them long -ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is the very thing," cried Moreton, rubbing his hands. "We will -away to Paris with all speed; you will keep quite close; I will find -out Mamselle Jeanette, and give her intimation that she may sell the -things to pay her own arrears of wages; for that her poor dear lady -will never come back to claim them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see the plan," replied the lady, "but I fear it will not answer, -Moreton; I had been living, as you know, in seclusion for a year -before, and the very means that I took to make him think me dead, will -now frustrate your scheme for that purpose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know that, Charlotte," answered her companion. "He has been -making inquiries in Paris, I know; you were traced thither distinctly, -and whether all clue was there lost of your proceedings, neither I nor -you can tell. But I'll tell you a story. When I was living at my -father's place, he had a particularly fine breed of pheasants, which -regularly every year disappeared about the 8th or 9th of October, -without the possibility of proving that any one had been into the -copses. One day, however, when I was out early in the morning, I saw a -fine old cock, with his green and gold neck, walking along straight -through a field towards the ground of a neighbouring farmer. Every two -or three seconds down went the pheasant's head, and on he walked -again. I watched him for a few minutes over a hedge, then made my way -through, put up the bird, and examined the spot where he had been. -There I found a regular pheasant's footpath, and nicely strewed along -it a line of barleycorns, leading straight on to the farmer's ground, -in the first hedge of which I found another portly bird fast by the -neck in a springe. Now, my dear Charlotte, we'll strew some -barleycorns, and perhaps we may catch your bird in the springe; I -mean, we'll throw out such pieces of information as will lead to the -certainty that you were in the Rue St. Jaques two years ago; we will -get Jeanette to sell things to pay her own wages, with the best reason -to believe you are dead; and if what I have heard is true, all that -you have so long aimed at will be accomplished before two months are -over."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see, I see," answered the lady, and the chaise stopped to change -horses.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The quiet little town of Tarningham was more quiet than ever about the -hour of twelve each day; for, according to good old primeval habits, -noon was the period for feeding. Men ate, beasts ate, and birds ate, -and we all know that eating is a silent process. It is the greatest -mistake in the world for doctors to tell you to talk while you are -eating, or else it is the bitterest sarcasm. They must either mean -that your digestion should be spoiled, or else that you are in the -habit of talking without thinking. But we, will make a sort of -corollary of it. "Man should not think when he is eating, man should -not talk without thinking; <i>ergo</i>, man should not talk at his dinner." -Therefore the people of Tarningham were wise; for never was there such -a silent town at the hour of twelve o'clock, when they were eating. -Doctor Miles could hear his own footfall with the most perfect -distinctness, as he walked along the High-street; and a good broad -foot it was, with a square-toed shoe and a buckle in it.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Doctor Miles did not attend to the sound of his footfall; he was, -indeed, busily thinking of something else, with his eyes bent -down--but not his head--he rarely bent his head--holding it upright -and straight, and a little stiff, by the natural effect of mind on -body. His meditations were very deep, so much so, that it required an -extraordinary apparition to rouse him from his reverie. The sight, -however, of a human being in the streets of Tarningham a little after -twelve, was quite enough to produce that effect; and at the distance -of about two hundred yards from the door of the White Hart, he was -startled by beholding the diminutive form and somewhat contorted -person, of the poor little pot-boy, Billy Lamb, coming towards him -with an empty jug in his hand. Nobody attended to Billy's meals. He -got them how he could, where he could, and when he could. When all the -rest were eating, he was sent with a jug of beer here, or a pint of -gin there, and came back to feed upon the cold remnants of what the -rest had eaten warm, if, indeed, they left him anything; but yet the -fat landlord, ostlers, stable-boys, and barmaids, all thought that -Billy was very well off. The landlord thought so, because he declared -he had taken the boy in from charity; and the ostlers, and the -post-boys, and the barmaids believed it. O, charity! charity! thou -perverted and misused term. Since the first words that were uttered by -Adam in his garden, down to the moment when one of the world's great -men declared that language was intended to conceal men's thoughts, no -word in the whole dictionary has ever been applied to cover so -many sins as thou hast. Thou art the robe of vanity every day; -tricking it out in subscription lists, almshouses, hospitals; thou -art the cloak of pride and haughtiness, the pretext of every petty -tyrant who seeks a slave, the excuse of avarice, and greed, and -narrow-mindedness--ever, ever coupled with a lie! In what human heart -art thou ever found pure and unadulterated? The foul-mouthed slanderer -of a neighbour's fame, who gives a sixpence to a beggar or a pound to -an infirmary, is a charitable person. The scoffing sneerer at virtue -he cannot imitate, who flings away money profusely for the sole -gratification of a loose habit, is called charitable. The hard-hearted -man who denies others their rights, or he who cheats his followers of -their due reward, or he who grinds the faces of his workmen with -excessive toil, or he who is harsh and stern in his own household, -fierce and censorious to others, a despot with his wife, a tyrant with -his children, dies, and, in a pompous will, bequeaths a portion of his -ill-gotten wealth to build an asylum, and perpetuate his name, and is -praised and honoured as a charitable man.</p> - -<p class="normal">That boy, forced to labour day and night, without consideration, -without comfort, without a kind word, fed upon refuse, palleted on -straw, yet doing more than the whole household altogether, was taken -in from charity! Believe it, reader, if you can. For my part, I don't -believe a word of it. I am quite sure that worthy Mr. Groomber wanted -somebody particularly, of an active and willing disposition, to carry -out the beer, and to attend to all those little matters which Mr. -Groomber could not do himself, and which his servants did not choose -to do, and that in taking in Billy Lamb for his own convenience, he -persuaded himself, and tried to persuade the public too, that he was -doing an act of charity. It is an extraordinary thing to consider how -often in the great tragic farce of the world we are our own -spectators; or, in other words, how continually, when we act a part, -we consider ourselves one of the audience, and strive to deceive that -individual the very first.</p> - -<p class="normal">However that might be, there was Billy Lamb, the pot-boy, just before -Doctor Miles, with an empty tankard in his hand; and the good doctor -no sooner beheld him, than he stopped, and, in a kindly tone, asked -him how the world went with him. Now Doctor Miles was a great man in -the neighbourhood; he had property of his own of not very great -extent, but which rendered the living that he held but an accessory to -his principal means of subsistence. He did not live by the altar, but -for the altar; and there are no such keen drawers of distinctions as -the lower classes. Of this thing all clergymen may be sure, that he -who makes a trade of his profession, who exacts the uttermost penny -which he has a right to, and something more, who increases burial -fees, and makes broad the borders of all his dues, will always be held -in contempt. Of the butcher, the baker, and the grocer, the lower -orders expect such things. The exaction of a farthing on half-a-pound, -more than is really just, they know is a part of the privileges of the -knife, the oven, and the scales and weights. But with the ministers of -a pure and holy religion, whose grand and fundamental principle is -charity and abnegation of self, they expect a higher and a wider sense -of benevolence, a more large and disinterested view of the relations -of a pastor and flock. Thick must be the veil that covers from the -eyes of the humble and the needy that greedy and grasping spirit which -too frequently, like the ghoul of Eastern fable, preys among the -sepulchres of the dead, and takes advantage of the moment of -overwhelming distress and agony of mind, to urge the coarse claims of -priestly avarice; claims, but too frequently, untenable in law and -always barbarous, even when not illegal--dues which should be swept -away for ever, which should no longer exist as a constant source of -heart-burning and complaint between pastor and people, making the one -derive a portion of his living by laying a tax most onerous and hard -to be borne, either upon the joys or the sorrows of his parishioners, -and the others to look upon their teacher as one who sets at defiance -the first principles of the Gospel that he preaches, following -"avarice which is idolatry," and forgetting charity, "which covers a -multitude of sins."</p> - -<p class="normal">Luckily, both by position and inclination, Doctor Miles was exempt -from all such reproaches. His necessities did not force him into -meannesses, and his natural disposition would never have suffered him -to fall into them, whatever his circumstances might have been. One -heard nothing in his parish of enormous charges for a brick grave, -swollen surplice-fees, that would make a cholera, a plague, or a -pestilence so rich a harvest, that the minister who would pray in his -desk against plague, pestilence, and famine, would be the grossest of -hypocrites. He did not look upon his churchyard as the most valuable -and productive part of his glebe, to be manured by the corpses of -his parishioners, and bear a cent-per-cent crop in monuments and -grave-stones. The consecration of the bishop he did not look upon as -fertilising the land for his own enrichment, but contented himself -with the bare amount of the moderate fee awarded by the law, and -neither asked nor received a penny more. Many of the neighbouring -clergy called him a weak and prejudiced man, and exclaimed loudly -against him for neglecting the interests, or, as they called them, -"the rights of the church." But, somehow, his parishioners loved him, -though he was rather an austere man, too, and never spared invective -or exhortation in case of error and misconduct. The secret, perhaps, -was, that they were convinced of his disinterestedness. He took from -no man more than was his due; he required of no man more than he had -the warrant of Scripture for requiring. His private fortune gave him -the means of charity, and to that object all his private fortune was -devoted. Every one in the neighbourhood knew that Doctor Miles could -have a finer house, could keep a better table, could maintain a -smarter equipage; but, at the same time, they were aware of two -things, first, that his income was not as large as it might have been -had he chosen to exact the uttermost farthing; and, secondly, that it -was not for the purpose of hoarding his money that he did not spend it -upon himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus Doctor Miles, as well may be conceived, was very much reverenced -in the neighbourhood; his rebukes were listened to, and sometimes -taken to heart; his advice was sought, and sometimes followed; his -opinions were always respected, if his injunctions were not always -obeyed; and his severity of manner was very well understood not to -imply any real harshness of heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">The cap was off Billy Lamb's head in a moment, when he approached Dr. -Miles; but he did not venture to speak to him till the doctor, after -gazing at him for a moment in a fit of absence, exclaimed, "Ah, -William, how goes it with you? and how is your poor mother?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, quite well," replied the youth, in his peculiarly sweet, low -voice; "mother's better than she was, though she has never been so -well since poor Mary's death."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How should she? how should she?" exclaimed Doctor Miles; "these -things, my man, affect young people but little, old people but little; -for young people are full of their own life, and with them that -consideration supersedes all thoughts connected with death; and old -people are so full of the conviction of life's brevity, that the -matter of a few years more or less is to them insignificant. It is to -the middle-aged that the death of the young is terrible; it clouds the -past with regrets, and the future with apprehensions. But I want to -speak to your mother, Bill; she must forgive Stephen Gimlet, and try -and help him, and be a comfort to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wish she would," said the boy, looking down; "I am sure Stephen is -not so bad as people call him, and never would have taken poor Mary -away, if mother had not been so strict."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must talk to her," answered Doctor Miles; "but you may tell her, if -you see her before I do, that Stephen is a changed man, and Sir John -Slingsby has taken him for a gamekeeper.--Tell her, will you," he -continued, after a moment's thought, "that the cottage on the moor has -been burned down, and the poor little boy, Charley, would have been -burnt in it, because there was no mother, nor other relation of any -kind to help him, had it not been for a gentleman who is staying up at -the hall coming by at the time and rescuing the boy from the flames."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, I am sure that was the gentleman that was down here," exclaimed -the pot-boy; "Captain Hayward they called him; for he was a kind, good -gentleman as ever lived, and gave me enough for mother to put -something by against the winter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is no reason why he should be walking on the moor," said Doctor -Miles, quickly. "However, I must talk to her, for the boy must not be -left alone any more; and we must see what can be done. But now tell -me, Bill, what wages do you get?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A shilling a week and my victuals," replied the boy, in an unrepining -tone; "it is very kind of Mr. Groomber, I am sure; and I do what I can -but that's not much."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" said Doctor Miles, with not the most affirmative tone in the -world; "well, I'll come by and by, and see your mother; can you go -down and tell her that I am coming?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes, Sir," replied the boy; "they give me a quarter of an hour to -eat my dinner, so I can go very well; but I must go first to Mr. -Slattery's, the doctor; for Mrs. Billiter told me to bid him come up -quietly to Mr. Wittingham, as if just for a call; for the old -gentleman came home ill last night, and has taken to his bed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Slattery is out," replied Doctor Miles. "I met him on the road; -but leave the message, Bill, leave the message, and I will go up and -see Mr. Wittingham myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he bade the boy adieu, and walked on to the smart white -gates of Mr. Wittingham's highly-cultivated place, and, passing -through the garden, rang the bell at the door, which was opened to him -by a servant in a straight-cut blue coat, black and yellow striped -waistcoat, and black plush breeches, with drab gaiters.</p> - -<p class="normal">In answer to Doctor Miles's inquiry, the servant informed him that Mr. -Wittingham was in bed, and could see no one; but the worthy clergyman -pressed for admission, saying that his business was of importance. A -consultation then took place between the man-servant and the -housekeeper, and, after some hesitation, Mrs. Billiter went up to her -master to inform him of Doctor Miles's visit, with a particular -injunction to impress upon the mind of the sick man that the -clergyman's business was of moment. She came down the next minute and -begged the visitor to walk up, with as low a curtsey as her long stiff -stays would permit her to make; and, she leading the way, Doctor Miles -followed with a slow and meditative step.</p> - -<p class="normal">The room-door was gently unclosed, and the clergyman, entering, fixed -his eyes upon the figure of Mr. Wittingham as he lay in the bed, and a -sad sight it was. Terrible was the effect that one night of sickness -had wrought upon him. The long, thin, bony limbs were plainly visible -through the bed-clothes, and so far, Mr. Wittingham well, or Mr. -Wittingham ill, showed no difference; but there was the face upon the -pillow, and there were to be seen traces enough, more of suffering -than sickness. The features had suddenly grown sharp, and the cheeks -hollow; the eye was bright and wandering, the brow furrowed, and the -hue of the complexion, partly from the light-brown moreen curtain of -the bed--the most detestable curtains in the world--partly from a -sleepless, anxious, suffering night, had grown yellow, if not -cadaverous. Patches of short-cut gray hair, usually concealed by the -wig, were now suffered, by the nightcap, to show themselves upon the -temples. The large front teeth, the high nose and the protuberant -chin, were all more prominent than usual; and certainly Mr. -Wittingham, in cotton nightcap and clean linen sheets, was not the -most prepossessing person that ever the eye rested upon.</p> - -<p class="normal">Doctor Miles, however, advanced quietly to his bedside, and, sitting -down in a chair, opened the conversation in a kindly tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry to find you ill, my good friend," he said; "you seemed -well enough last night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay, that's another thing, doctor," replied the invalid; "but I -got a terrible fright after that, and that has given me quite a turn."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As to the way you will direct that turn," answered the clergyman, -"you will need some good advice, Mr. Wittingham."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay," said the magistrate, somewhat impatiently. "Billiter there -has been boring me for an hour to send for that fellow Slattery; but I -don't think he could do me any good. He is a humbug, as well as the -most of those doctors."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But not more than most," answered Doctor Miles, "which is a great -thing in this part of the country. You may go, Mrs. Billiter; I wish -to be alone with Mr. Wittingham."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Billiter, who had remained upon the best, the oldest, and most -invariable excuse, that of putting the room in order, for the purpose -of gaining an insight into all that took place, dropped a curtsey, and -withdrew unwillingly.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham eyed Doctor Miles with a shrewd, inquiring, but timid -glance. It was evident that he would have dispensed, with the doctor's -coming, that he did not half like it, that he wished to know what he -could want, why he came, what was his business, what could be his -object, and why his manner was so grave and cautious. Heaven knows -that Mr. Wittingham was not an imaginative man; that he was not -subject to the sports of fancy, and seldom or ever presented to his -mind any image of things, past or future, unless it were in a large -parchment-covered volume, in which was inscribed in large letters, -upon the last page: "Balance, in favour of Mr. Wittingham, sixty-nine -thousand odd hundred pounds." Nevertheless, on this occasion the -worthy gentleman's imagination ran restive; for, as a weedy old horse, -when people endeavour to whip it into any thing; more than its -ordinary pace, turns up its heels, and flings them, into the face of -its driver; so did Mr. Wittingham's fancy at once assert its -predominance over reason, by presenting to him for his choice every -possible sort of business upon which Doctor Miles might, could, would, -should, or ought, have come to Tarningham Lodge. He, therefore, sat in -his bed with his nightcap on his head, grinning at him, like Yorick's -skull, with a ghastly smile. Courtesy has its agonies, as well as -other things; and the politeness of Mr. Wittingham was agonising. -Speak he could not, that was out of the question; but, with a grim -contortion of countenance, he motioned the worthy doctor to a chair, -and the other took it with provoking deliberation, concealing, under -an air of imperturbable coolness, a certain degree of embarrassment, -and a considerable degree of feeling.</p> - -<p class="normal">To tell the truth, he much desired that Mr. Wittingham would begin -first; but he soon saw that there was no hope of such being the case, -and his profession had accustomed him to the initiative. Wherefore, -after three preliminary hums, he went on to say, "My dear Sir, I -thought it better to come down to you to-day, to speak to you on a -somewhat painful subject, but one which had better be grappled with at -once; and that rather in conversation with me, a minister of peace and -goodwill towards men, than with others, who, though equally bound by -the injunctions of the religion which I unworthily teach and they -believe, have what they consider duties apart, which might interfere -with an unlimited exercise of Christian charity."</p> - -<p class="normal">Excellent, Doctor Miles; you are keeping the poor man in a state of -torture. Why will you preach, when you are not in the pulpit. But -Doctor Miles was not a prosy man by nature; he was short, brief, and -terse in his general conversation, and only preached when he was in -embarrassment. That such was evidently the case at present greatly -increased the evils of Mr. Wittingham's position; and when the doctor -was talking of Christian charity, the sick magistrate was mentally -sending him to a place where very little charity of any kind is -supposed to be practised--not that we know any thing of the matter; -for even in the present day, with steamboats, railroads, and all the -appliances of human ingenuity to boot, tourists and travellers have -not pushed their researches quite as far as the place alluded to; or, -at all events, have not favoured the world with an account of their -discoveries.</p> - -<p class="normal">After the above proem, Dr. Miles stumbled for a moment or two, and -then recovering himself, continued thus:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The unfortunate affair which took place last night must doubtless -give rise to legal inquiries, which will, depend upon it, be pursued -with great energy and determination; for Captain Hayward, I find, -followed the unhappy young man at once; and, if I judge rightly, he is -not one to abandon his object when it is but half-attained."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, that Captain Hayward, that Captain Hayward!" cried Wittingham, -angrily, "he is always meddling with other people's affairs."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, my dear Sir," answered Dr. Miles; "this was his affair, and the -affair of every body in the room. The ball passed within an inch of -his friend Mr. Beauchamp's head, and might have been intended for -him--at least, so Captain Hayward might have supposed, had not your -own exclamation at the moment--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My exclamation!" cried Mr. Wittingham, with a look of horror, "what -did I exclaim?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Doctor Miles did not answer him directly at first, replying merely, -"you said enough, Mr. Wittingham, to show who it was, in your opinion, -that had fired the shot."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham clasped his hands together in an agony of despair and -sunk with his head upon the pillow, as if he would fain have hid his -face in the bed-clothes, but Dr. Miles went on kindly to say,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Moreover, my dear Sir, your exclamation was sufficient to make me -feel for you deeply--to feel for you with sincere compassion, and to -desire anxiously to serve and assist you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now Mr. Wittingham was not accustomed to be compassionated; he did not -like the thing and he did not like the word; he was a vain man and a -proud man, and compassion was a humiliation which he did not like to -undergo; but still anxiety and trouble were the strongest, and he -repeated two or three times in a quick, sharp voice,</p> - -<p class="normal">"What did I say? What did I say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You said that it was your son," answered the clergyman, "and various -corroborative circumstances have transpired which--"</p> - -<p class="normal">But by this time Mr. Wittingham was in such a state of agitation that -it was evident he would hear nothing further that was said to him at -the moment, and therefore the good doctor stopped short. The -magistrate covered his eyes; he wrung his hands hard together; he -gazed forth at the sky; he even wept.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then it is all over, all over," he cried, at length, "it is all -over," by which he meant that all his dreams of importance, his plans -of rural grandeur and justice-of-the-peaceism, his "reverence" on the -bench and at the quarter-sessions, his elevation as a country -gentleman, and his oblivion as a small trader, were all frustrated, -gone, lost, smothered and destroyed by his son's violent conduct and -his own indiscreet babbling in the moment of fear and grief.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Doctor Miles," he said, "it's a sad business, a sad business. As -you know it all, there is no use of my holding my tongue. Harry did do -it; and, indeed, he told me before that he would do it, or something -like it; for he came here--here, down into Tarningham, and told me on -the very bench, that if I pushed that business about Mrs. Clifford's -carriage any further it should go worse with me. It was a threat, my -dear doctor, and I was not to be deterred from doing my duty by a -threat, and so I told him, and immediately took up the man they call -Wolf, on suspicion--for Sir John had been down here, swearing at my -door, and what could I do, you know."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now Doctor Miles had seen a great deal of the world, and, though a -good and benevolent man, and one not at all inclined to think the -worst of one of his fellow-creatures, yet he could not help seeing -that there was a great deal of weakness and eagerness to shuffle any -burden from himself in Mr. Wittingham's reply. There are certain sorts -of knowledge which force themselves upon our understanding, whether we -will or not, and amongst these is discrimination of human character. -People, long accustomed to the world, find great difficulty even in -believing a practised liar, however much they may wish to do so on -certain points. They see through, in spite of themselves, all the -little petty artifices with which self hides itself from self, and -still more clearly through the mean policy by which the mean man -strives to conceal his meanness from the eyes of his fellow-creatures. -Whether it be the pitiful man, in any of the common walks of life, -exacting more than his due, and striving to hide his greed under the -veil of liberality and disinterestedness, whether it be the candidate, -on the canvass or on the hustings, escaping from the explanation of -his intentions upon the plea of independence and free judgment, or -whether it be the minister of the crown evading the fulfilment of -obligations, or shrinking from the recognition of support by all the -thousand subterfuges in the vast dictionary of political dishonesty, -the man learned in the world's ways, however willing to be duped, -cannot believe and confide, cannot admire and respect. The case with -Mr. Wittingham was a very simple one. Doctor Miles saw and understood -the whole process of his mind in a moment; but he was sorry for the -man; he felt what agony it must be to have such a son, and he hastened -as far as possible to relieve him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think, my dear Sir," he said, "that you have made some mistakes in -this matter; I do not presume to interfere with any man's domestic -arrangements, but I will candidly acknowledge that I have thought, in -watching the progress of your son's education, that it was not likely -to result in good to his character--nay, hear me out, for I am only -making this observation as a sort of excuse, not so much for him, as -for the advice I am going to give you, which can only be justified by -a belief that the young man is not so depraved by nature as by -circumstances."</p> - -<p class="normal">They were hard words, very hard words, that Doctor Miles uttered, but -there was a stern impressiveness in his manner which overawed Mr. -Wittingham, kept down his vanity from revolting against the implied -accusation, and prevented him from even writhing openly at the plain -terms in which his son's conduct was stigmatised.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Under these circumstances," continued Doctor Miles, "I think it much -better that you send your son out of the country as fast as possible, -afford him such means as will enable him to live in respectability, -without indulging in vice; warn him seriously of the end to which his -present courses will lead him, and give him to understand that if he -abandons them, and shows an inclination to become a good and useful -member of society, the faults of his youth may be forgotten, and their -punishment be remitted. On the latter point, I think I may say that, -should he at once quit the country, no further steps against him will -be taken. You know very well that Sir John Slingsby, though hot and -irascible, is a kind and good-natured man at heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir John Slingsby! Sir John Slingsby!" exclaimed Mr. Wittingham, -bustling up with an air of relief, as if something had suddenly turned -a screw or opened a safety-valve, and delivered him from the high -pressure of Doctor Miles's grave and weighty manner, "Sir John -Slingsby, Sir, dare do nothing against me or mine; for there is a -balance against him. He may talk, and he may bully and crack his -jokes.--I have submitted to all that a great deal too long, without -requiring a settlement of the account; and there's five thousand -pounds against him I can tell you, which he will find it a difficult -matter to pay, I have a notion--ah, ah, Doctor Miles, I know what I am -about. Five thousand pounds are five thousand pounds, Doctor Miles, -and I know all the situation of Sir John's affairs, too; so he had -better not meddle with me, he had better not enrage me; for he will -risk less in letting all this foolish business pass off quietly -without inquiry, than producing inquiry into his own affairs in the -county. A good jolly gentleman I don't mean to say he is not; but I -can tell you he is tottering on the verge of ruin, and I don't want to -force him over unless he drives me: and so he had better not, that's -all."</p> - -<p class="normal">Doctor Miles had gazed at him as he spoke with a keen, subacid look, -and in some degree even of amusement, and this calm, supercilious look -greatly annoyed and embarrassed Mr. Wittingham towards the end of his -tirade. It was evident that Doctor Miles was not in the least taken -unprepared, that the intimation of Sir John Slingsby's position in -worldly affairs neither surprised nor disappointed him in the least; -and when Mr. Wittingham at length stopped in some embarrassment, his -reply tended still further to puzzle and confound the worthy -magistrate for he merely said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps so, Mr. Wittingham, but I do not think Sir John Slingsby's -pecuniary circumstances will at all prevent him from performing his -public duties. If he has reason to believe that your son is in the -road to amendment, he is very likely to look over his present -offences, as they are, in some degree, personal to himself and his -family. If he imagines that he will go on from one crime to another, -depend upon it he will think it only right to cut his career short at -once. The only fear is, that if this debt which you speak of ever -crosses his mind, it will only serve as a bar to his lenity; for no -man is so likely to be seized with a sudden determination to punish -with the utmost rigour, if he were to suspect for one moment that his -debt to you, whatever might be the amount, might be assigned as the -motive by any one for his forbearance. I would not advise you to urge -such a plea, Mr. Wittingham; but, depend upon it, if this debt is -considered at all, it will be considered to your disadvantage. Besides -all this, you must recollect that other persons were present; -therefore Sir John has not the whole matter in his own hands. However, -I have given you the best advice in my power; you can take it, if you -like; if not, the consequences be upon your own head; and you must not -blame any one for any thing that may occur in the due course of law."</p> - -<p class="normal">And rising from the bedside, he was about to depart, when Mr. -Wittingham stopped him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, stay, my dear Sir," said the magistrate, eagerly; "let us -discuss this question a little further; I wish no harm to Sir John -Slingsby, and I trust he wishes none to me. But are you sure there -were other persons who heard the words I spoke? Very unfortunate, very -unfortunate, indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now the truth was, that Mr. Wittingham was in a state of high -irritation. The comments which Doctor Miles had made, or rather the -hints which he had thrown out in regard to the education of his son, -had greatly exasperated him. He never liked it to be even hinted that -he was wrong; it was a sort of accusation which he never could bear; -and the worthy doctor would have been permitted in patience to proceed -with any other of Mr. Wittingham's friends or enemies without the -least interruption; but it was natural that he should take fire in -regard to his son. Why natural? it may be asked. For this reason, that -the education of his son was associated intimately with Mr. -Wittingham's own vanity; and the idea of his faults being owing to -education, was a direct reflection upon Mr. Wittingham himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Doctor Miles, however, regarded none of these things; and though the -worthy magistrate desired him to stay, he declared he had no time, -saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Further discussion is out of the question. I have given you advice -that I know to be kind, that I believe to be good. Take it, if you -judge so; leave it, if you judge otherwise. Pursue what course you -think best in regard to Sir John Slingsby; but, at all events, do not -attempt to influence him, by pecuniary considerations; for be assured -that, although he may, by imprudence, have embarrassed his property, -he has not arrived at that pitch of degradation which is only brought -on step by step from the pressure of narrow circumstances, and which -induces men to forget, great principles in order to escape from small -difficulties. Good morning, Mr. Wittingham;" and, without further -pause, Doctor Miles quitted the room, and walked down stairs. In the -hall he met Mr. Wharton, the attorney, going up, with a somewhat sour -and discontented face; but all that passed between the two gentlemen -was a cold bow, and the clergyman left the house in possession of the -lawyer.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It is a very unpleasant position indeed to be above your neck in the -water, with another man holding fast by your collar, especially if it -be by both hands. It may be a friend who has so got you, it may be an -enemy; but the operation comes to pretty nearly the same thing in both -cases; and that the result is not at all an agreeable one, I say it -boldly and without fear of contradiction; for, although drowning is -said to be accompanied by no real pain, and I have heard many -half-drowned persons declare that it is rather pleasant than -otherwise, yet that is only a part of the process, not the result; -then again Sir Peter Laurie can witness, that there are multitudes of -persons, who, after having taken one suffocating dip in Mother Thames, -repeat the attempt perseveringly, as if they found it very delightful -indeed; but still I contend that they have not come to the end of the -thing, and, therefore, can give no real opinion. "To lie in cold -obstruction and to rot," to become the prey of the lean, abhorred -monster death, to separate from the warm tenement in which our abode -on earth has been made, to part with the companionship of all the -senses and sensations, the thrills and feelings, which have been our -friends, our guides, our monitors, our servants, our officers in the -course of mortal existence--this is the result of that tight pressure -upon the cravat or coat-collar which we shrink from, when, with our -head under the water, we feel the fingers of friend or enemy -approaching too near the organs of respiration. If the gentleman -grasps our legs we can kick him off; if he seizes our hands we can -often shake him away; but the deadly pressure upon the chest and neck; -the clinging, grasping energy of those small digits on the throat, -when we find that, half a second more and life is gone, is perhaps as -unpleasant a thing as often falls to the lot of mortal man to feel.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now Ned Hayward, I have endeavoured to impress upon the reader's mind, -was a brave, bold, determined fellow as ever lived. There was no -danger he would not have fronted, no fate he would not have risked for -a good and worthy object. He was a good swimmer, too; but when after a -headlong plunge into the water he felt himself undermost in the fall, -out of his depth, his feet entangled in a weed, and the fingers and -thumbs of Captain Moreton tight upon his throat, he was seized with an -irresistible propensity to knock him off by any means, even at the -risk of losing his prisoner. The first method that suggested itself -was a straightforward blow at his adversary, and that taking effect -upon his chest was successful with a man half-drowned himself. His -antagonist let go his hold, rose as fast as he could, dashed at the -other bank, gained the ground and was off. Poor Ned Hayward, however, -soon found that if he had freed himself from one enemy, he was still -in the power of another. It is a terrible thing that a strong, -powerful man, instinct with every energy and quality of high animal -life, and, moreover, having an immortal soul, to be kept or parted -with, should every now and then be completely at the mercy of a thin, -pitiful, pulpy weed, which, to all appearances, might be broken or -smashed in a moment. But moments are very important things, and the -<i>vis inertiæ</i> a tremendous power. The weed made no attempt to hold the -young gentleman, it neither grasped his legs, nor clasped his knees, -but it was carried by the current around the ankles of Ned Hayward, -and there, somehow or other, it stuck fast, preventing him from -moving; in fact, it was like many a great politician (in the world's -opinion), who operate many great changes upon their neighbours by mere -<i>vis inertiæ</i>, waiting till the tide of circumstances brings them to -action, and then holding fast to a particular point till all -opposition is drowned.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such had well-nigh been the case with Ned Hayward; for what little -strength he had left was nearly expended in the blow he gave to -Captain Moreton; and when he found that his feet were entangled in the -weed which would not have snapped a single gut-line with a May-fly at -the end of it, his powers did not suffice to tear himself away. This -history, as far as he was concerned, seemed likely to come to a hasty -conclusion, when suddenly he found a strong hand grasp his arm just -below the shoulder, and give his whole frame a vehement impulse -towards the surface of the water. The next instant he saw, heard, -breathed, once more; and before he had time to do either of these -things above a second, he found his right elbow leaning on the bank, -and Mr. Beauchamp, who was not very well aware whether he was dead, -alive, or half-drowned, endeavouring to draw him up on the bank. To -use the words of the poet, in a very indecent episode of a very chaste -and beautiful poem--</p> - -<pre> - One stupid moment motionless he stood; -</pre> - -<p class="continue">but the next puff of the right element which went into his lungs -recalled all his activity, and up he jumped on the bank with a spring -which astonished Beauchamp, made Isabella Slingsby draw back, and -brought a faint colour into Mary Clifford's cheek. The glow was -accompanied by a smile, however, which showed that this proof of Ned -Hayward's still active powers was not unpleasant to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">The first thing the young officer did, however, was to shake Mr. -Beauchamp warmly by the hand, exclaiming,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my life you were just in time--it was nearly over with me--I -could not have stood it half a minute longer. Every thing was turning -green, and I know that's a bad sign."</p> - -<p class="normal">The next thing was to pick up his fishing-rod and tackle, crying, as -he raised them from the ground,</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has frightened away that big old trout; I should have had him in -another second; I may have to walk half an hour more before I find -such another; I could see him eyeing the fly all ready for a rise."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But who was the gentleman?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What was the quarrel about?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why did you seize him?" demanded Isabella, Mary, and Beauchamp, all -together.</p> - -<p class="normal">Let the reader remark, that each framed his question differently.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is the man who fired the shot into the window last night," -replied Ned Hayward, looking curiously at the fly upon his hook; and -two of his companions instantly turned their eyes in the direction -which Captain Moreton had taken, with a look of alarm, as if they -feared he would fire another shot from the bushes amongst which he had -disappeared. Beauchamp, for his part, cast down his eyes and said -nothing--not a word! Nay more; he shut his teeth close and drew his -lips over them, as if he were afraid he should say something; and -then, after a moment's pause, he turned to Ned Hayward, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Had you not better give up this fishing, come up to the house and -change your clothes?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh dear no," cried Ned Hayward, "on no account whatever; I'll catch -my fish before twelve o'clock yet; and very likely have the very -fellow that our plunge scared away from here. Do you know, Beauchamp, -it is sometimes not a bad plan to frighten a cunning old speckled -gentleman like this, if you find that he is suspicious and won't bite. -I have tried it often, and found it succeed very well. He gets into a -fuss, dashes up or down, does not know well where to stop, and then, -out of mere irritation, bites at the first thing that is thrown in his -way. Come along and we shall see. He went down, I think, for I had an -eye upon him till he darted off."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you are very wet, too, Mr. Beauchamp," said Isabella. "If Captain -Hayward is too much of an old campaigner to change his clothes, I do -not see why you should neglect to do so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For the best reason in the world, my dear Miss Slingsby," replied -Beauchamp, "because I have no clothes here with which to change these -I have on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But there are plenty at the house," replied Isabella, eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I am afraid, they would not fit," replied Beauchamp, laughing; "I -am in no fear, however; for I am as old a campaigner as Captain -Hayward."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us move about, at all events," said Mary Clifford; and following -Ned Hayward down the stream, they watched his progress, as he, intent -apparently upon nothing but his sport, went flogging the water, to see -what he could obtain. Three or four very large trout, skilfully -hooked, artistically played, and successfully landed, soon repaid his -labour; but Ned Hayward was not yet satisfied, but, at length, he -paused abruptly, and held up his finger to the others as a sign not to -approach too near. He was within about twenty yards of a spot where -the stream, taking a slight bend, entered into sort of pass between -two low copses, one on either hand, composed of thin and feathery -trees, the leaves of which, slightly agitated by the wind, cast a -varying and uncertain light and shade upon the water. The river, where -he stood, was quite smooth; but ten steps further it fell over two or -three small plates of rock, which scattered and disturbed it, as it -ran, leaving a bubbling rapid beyond, and then a deep, but rippling -pool, with two or three sharp whirls in it, just where the shadows of -the leaves were dancing on the waters. Ned Hayward deliberately took -the fly off the line and put on another, fixing his eye, from time to -time, on a particular spot in the pool beyond. He then threw his line -on the side of the rapid next to him, let the fly float down with a -tremulous motion, kept it playing up and down on the surface of the -foam, with a smile upon his lips, then suffered it to be carried -rapidly on into the bubbling pool, as if carried away by the force of -the water, and held it for a moment quivering there; the next moment -he drew it sharply towards him, but not far. There was an instant rush -in the stream, and a sharp snap, which you might almost hear. The -slightest possible stroke of the rod was given, and then the wheel ran -rapidly off, while the patriarch of the stream dashed away with the -hook in his jaws. The instant he paused, he was wound up and drawn -gently along, and then he dashed away again, floundered and splashed, -and struck the shallow waters with his tail, till, at length, -exhausted and half-drowned, he was drawn gradually up to the rocks; -and Ned Hayward, wading in, landed him safely on the shore.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is the game of life, Miss Clifford," he said, as he put the -trout of more than three pounds' weight into the basket. "Rendered -cautious and prudent by some sad experiences, we shrink from every -thing that seems too easy of attainment, then, when we find something -that Fate's cunning hand plays before our eyes as if to be withdrawn -in a moment, we watch it with suspicious but greedy eagerness, till we -think a moment more will lose it for ever, then dart at it blindly, -and feel the hook in our jaws."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford smiled, and then looked grave; and Isabella laughed, -exclaiming,</p> - -<p class="normal">"The moral of fly-fishing! And a good lesson, I suppose, you mean for -all over-cautious mammas--or did you mean it was a part of your own -history? Captain Hayward, retrospective and prophetic, or was it a -general disquisition upon man?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am afraid man is the trout," said Beauchamp; "and not in one -particular pursuit, but all: love, interest, ambition, every one -alike. His course and end are generally the same."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That speech of yours, fair lady, was so like a woman," said Ned -Hayward, turning to Miss Slingsby; "if it were not that my hands were -wet, I would presume upon knowing you as a child, and give you a good -shake. I thought you had been brought up enough with men, to know that -they are not always thinking of love and matrimony. You women have but -one paramount idea, as to this life's concerns I mean, and you never -hear any thing without referring it to that. However, after all, -perhaps, it is natural:</p> - -<pre> - "Man's love is of man's life a thing apart. - 'Tis woman's whole existence." -</pre> - -<p class="normal">"Too sad a truth," replied Mary Clifford, thoughtfully; "perhaps it is -of too little importance in man's eyes; of too much in woman's."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And yet how terribly she sometimes trifles with it," said Beauchamp, -in a still gloomier tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps, you think, she trifles with every thing, Mr. Beauchamp," -rejoined Isabella; "but men know so little of women, and see so little -of women as they really are, that they judge the many from the few: -and we must forgive them; nevertheless, even if it be true that they -do trifle with it, it is not the least proof that they do not feel it. -All beings are fond of sporting with what is bright and dangerous: the -moth round the candle, the child with the penknife, and man with -ambition."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All mankind," said Ned Hayward, "men and women alike, get merrily -familiar with that which is frequently presented to their thoughts. -Look at the undertaker, or the sexton, how he jests with his fat -corpse, and only screws his face into a grim look when he has the -world's eye upon him; then jumps upon the hearse and canters back, to -get drunk and joyous at the next public-house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush! hush! Captain Hayward," cried Isabella, "I declare your figures -of speech are too horrible; we will have no more of such sad -conversation; can we not talk of something more pleasant as we go -back?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know," said Ned Hayward, "I am in a moralising mood this -morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">And as Isabella and Mr. Beauchamp walked on a little in advance to -pass the narrow path, which only admitted two abreast, he continued in -a somewhat lower tone, saying to Mary Clifford,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot get my spirits up this morning. The dangerous circumstances -of my good old friend, Sir John, vex me much. Have you spoken to your -cousin about them? She seems wonderfully gay."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have," answered Miss Clifford; "but it would need a heavy weight, -Captain Hayward, to sink her light heart. She promised to mention the -matter to Mr. Beauchamp, too; but I rather imagine from what has -occurred, that she had not done it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, she has done it, depend upon it," replied the young officer; "and -that is what makes her so gay. But I must speak with Beauchamp myself, -and make the matter sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meantime, Beauchamp had walked on with Isabella; and there -could be little or no doubt, in the minds of any one who came behind -them, that he was making love. Not that they heard a word that was -said, no, not a single syllable, but there is a peculiar gesture -associated with the making of love, by a gentleman at least, which -distinguishes it from every other process. Beauchamp, as we have -described him, was above the middle height; but Isabella was not below -it; and there was not the slightest occasion for him to bend down his -head, in order that she might hear him distinctly, unless he had -something to say which he did not wish others to hear likewise. He did -bend down his head, however, and said what he had to say in a very low -tone; and, although he did not stare her rudely in the face, yet from -time to time he looked into her eyes, as if he thought them the -crystal windows of the heart. Isabella, on her side, did not bend her -head; she held it a little on one side, indeed, so as in the least -perceptible degree to turn the fine small ear to the words that were -poured into it; generally, however, she looked down, with the long -fringes veiling the violet of her eyes, though from time to time she -raised them at something that he said; and when her look met his, they -fell again. They had to cross over a little brook, and Beauchamp took -her hand to help her over. He drew it through his arm when he had -done, and there it rested for the remainder of the walk.</p> - -<p class="normal">Involuntarily, and almost unconsciously as they marked this, Mary -Clifford and Captain Hayward turned to each other with a smile. The -impulse with each was to see if the other had remarked it--a very -simple impulse--but when their looks met, it made a more compound -phrase; and the anagram of the heart might read thus:</p> - -<p class="normal">"May we not as well make love too?"</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a sore temptation; but the next instant Ned Hayward's -countenance became exceedingly grave, and the warm healthy glow in his -cheek grew a shade paler.</p> - -<p class="normal">If there was a struggle in his breast, it was brought to an end in -about five minutes; for, just as they were climbing the side of the -hill again, they were met by joyous old Sir John Slingsby, whose whole -face and air generally bore with it an emanation of cheerful content, -which is usually supposed, but, alas! mistakenly to be the peculiar -portion of the good and wise. Thoughtlessness, temperament, habit, -often possess that which is the coveted possession of wisdom and -virtue; and often in this world the sunshine of the heart spreads over -the pathway of him who neither sees his own misfortunes lying before -him, nor thinks of the sorrows of others scattered around.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, boys and girls, boys and girls!" cried the baronet, laughing, -"whither have you wandered so long? I have done a world of business -since you have been gone, thank Heaven; and, thank Heaven, have left a -world undone; so I shall never, like Alexander, that maudling, -drunken, rattle-pate of antiquity, have to weep for new worlds to -conquer. Ned Hayward, Ned Hayward, I have a quarrel with you. Absent -from evening drill and morning parade without leave! We will have you -tried by a court-martial, boy; but what news have you brought? did you -overtake the enemy? or was he too much for you? whither is he -retreated? and last, though not least, who and what is he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"On my life, Sir John, I do not know who he is," answered Ned Hayward. -"We have had two engagements, in which, I am fain to confess, he has -had the advantage, and has retreated in good order both times. I shall -catch him yet, however; but at present I have not time to give full -information; for--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not time, not time!" cried the baronet; "what the devil have you done -with all your time, not to have half an hour to spare to your old -colonel?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the first place, my dear Sir, I am wet," replied the young -officer, "for I have been in the water, and must change my clothes; -but I have won my bet, however; I promised to catch the best trout in -the river before noon; and there he is; match him if you can."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Before noon," exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, taking out his watch; -"twenty minutes past twelve, by Jove!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, but he has been caught twenty minutes," said Ned Hayward, "I will -appeal to all persons present."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, granted, granted," exclaimed the baronet, "the bet's won, the -bet's won. You shall change your clothes, make yourself look like a -gentleman, and then tell the reverend company your story."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Impossible," answered Ned Hayward, shaking his head; "I have forty -things to do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Forty things!" cried Sir John; "why I have finished two hundred and -fifty, upon a moderate computation, within an hour and ten minutes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, my dear Sir," said the young gentleman, "but I have got to change -my clothes, write a letter, speak two words to Beauchamp, talk for a -quarter of an hour to Ste. Gimlet about his boy's education, pack up -some clothes, and be down at Tarningham in time for the coach to -London, as well as to induce your butler to give me some luncheon and -a glass of the best old sherry in your cellar."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pack up some clothes!--coach to London!" cried Sir John Slingsby, in -a more serious tone than he had yet used; "the boy is mad; his head is -turned! Ned Hayward, Ned Hayward, what the devil do you mean, Ned -Hayward?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Simply, my dear Sir John, that some business of importance calls me -to London immediately," rejoined his young friend; "but I shall be -down again to-morrow, or the next day at the furthest; and, in the -meantime, I leave you horse and gun, fishing-tackle and appurtenances, -which I give you free leave and licence to confiscate if I do not keep -my word."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well!" exclaimed the baronet, "go along, change your clothes, -and come and get some luncheon. I always thought you a great donkey, -Ned, and now I think so more than ever, when I see you quit -comfortable quarters for a dull stagecoach. Go along, I say, go -along; there's the door, which is always better said on the outside of -a house than in the in."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you, Sir John; but I must just speak a word with Beauchamp -first," replied Captain Hayward; and taking his new friend's arm, he -drew him a little on one side, while the baronet and the two ladies -entered the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have got a favour to ask you, Beauchamp," said Captain Hayward: -"matters have got into a complication between myself and this young -Wittingham, which may require a pistol-shot to unravel it. The fellow, -who fired through the window last night, certainly rode his horse; I -walked straight into his room, thinking I might find the man there. I -told him the occasion of my coming; he was insolent; and I informed -him civilly what I thought of him; he demanded satisfaction; and I -replied, that if there was a gentleman in the county that could be -found to act as his friend, I would do him the honour of meeting him. -Business, which one of the two ladies will give you a hint of, if they -have not done so already, calls me immediately to London. I have -written to tell him so, but that I shall be down the day after -to-morrow. In the meantime, I shall tell the people at the White Hart, -if any one comes from him, to refer them to you. Arrange the affair, -therefore, for me, should such be the case, and, remember, the -earliest possible time and the quietest possible manner--I'll bring my -pistols--but we must break off, here comes Sir John Slingsby again; -not a word to him on any account, there's a good fellow; and now let -us talk of something else."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">If you fix your eyes upon a distant hill in the month of April, in -some countries, or May in others, there are a thousand chances to one, -unless the goddess of the spring be very much out of humour, that you -see first a golden gleam warm, as the looks of love, and next a deep -blue shadow, calm and grand as the thoughts of high intellect when -passion has passed away with youth. Perhaps the case may be reversed; -the shadow come first and the gleam succeed just as you happen to time -your look; but at all events, you will require no one to tell you--you -will not even need to raise your face to the sky to perceive at once -that the cause of this beautiful variation of hues is the alternate -sunshine and cloud of the spring heavens.</p> - -<p class="normal">Over the mind and over the face of man, however, what clouds, what -sunshine, what gleams, what shadows, will not come without any eye but -an all-seeing one being able to trace the causes of the change. Thrice -in one morning was the whole demeanour of Mr. Beauchamp totally -altered. He descended to breakfast grave and thoughtful; an hour after -he was gayer than he had been for years. By the side of Isabella -Slingsby he remained cheerful; but before luncheon was over he had -plunged again into a fit of deep and gloomy thought, and as soon as -Ned Hayward, having taken some food and wine started up to mount his -horse which was at the door, Beauchamp rose also, saying, "I want one -word with you, Hayward, before you go."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Directly, directly," answered Ned Hayward. "Goodbye, Sir John, good -bye, Miss Slingsby."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mind--day after to-morrow at the latest, Ned," cried the baronet.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my honour," replied Hayward. "Farewell, Mrs. Clifford, I trust I -shall find you here on my return."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear not, Captain Hayward," replied the lady, "but you have -promised, you know, to come over and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, dear mamma, I think you will be here," said Mary Clifford, "I -think for once I shall attempt to coax you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Clifford seemed somewhat surprised at her daughter's eagerness to -stay; but Sir John exclaimed joyously, "There's a good girl--there's a -capital girl, Mary; you are the best little girl in the world; she'll -stay, she'll stay. We'll get up a conspiracy against her. There, be -off, Ned. No long leave-takings. You'll find us all here when you come -back, just as you left us: me, as solemn and severe as usual, my -sister as gay and jovial, Isabella as pensorous, and Mary as merry and -madcap as ever."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward, however, did not fail to bid Miss Clifford adieu before -he went, and be it remarked, he did it in a somewhat lower tone than -usual, and added a few words more than he had spoken to the rest. -Beauchamp accompanied him to the door, and then pausing near the -horse, inquired in a low tone, "Are you quite certain the man with -whom you had the struggle this morning is the same who fired the shot -last night?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perfectly," answered Ned Hayward, "for I saw his face quite well in -the sand-pit; and I never forget a face. I wish to Heaven you could -catch him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you any idea of his name?" asked Beauchamp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"None in the world," replied Ned Hayward; "but there are two people -here who must know, I think. One is young Wittingham, and the other is -Ste Gimlet, otherwise Wolf. I have a strong notion this fellow was one -of those attacking the carriage the other night. But that puts me in -mind, Beauchamp, that I intended to go up and talk to Gimlet, but I -have not time now. I wish you would; and just tell him from me, I will -pay his boy's schooling if he will send him to learn something better -than making bird-traps. You can perhaps find out at the same time who -this fellow is, so it may be worth a walk."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will, I will," answered Beauchamp, "but you said the young ladies -here had something to tell me. What is it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought they had done it," replied Ned Hayward, "that is stupid! -But I have not time now, you must ask them; good bye;" and touching -his horse lightly with his heel, he was soon on his way to Tarningham.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp paused for a moment on the steps in deep meditation, and -then turned into the house, saying to himself, "This must be inquired -into instantly." He found Sir John Slingsby in the luncheon-room, -reading the newspaper, but nobody else, for the ladies had returned to -the drawing-room, and two of them, at least, where looking somewhat -anxiously for his coming. It very rarely happens that any one who is -looked anxiously for ever does come; and of course, in the present -instance, Beauchamp took the natural course and disappointed the two -ladies.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have a message to deliver from Captain Hayward to your new keeper, -Sir John," he said, "and therefore I will walk over to his cottage, -and see him. An hour I dare say will accomplish it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It depends upon legs, my dear Sir," answered the baronet, looking up. -"It would cost my two an hour and a half to go and come; so if I might -advise, you would take four. You will find plenty of hoofs in the -stables, and a groom to show you the way. Thus you will be back the -sooner, and the women will have something to talk to; for I must be -busy--very busy--devilish busy, indeed. I have not done any business -for ten years, the lawyer tells me, so I must work hard to-day. I'll -read the papers, first, however, if Wharton himself stood at the door; -and he is a great deal worse than Satan. I like to hear all the lies -that are going about in the world; and as newspapers were certainly -invented for the propagation of falsehood, one is sure to find all -there. Take a horse, take a horse, Beauchamp. Life is too short to -walk three miles and back to speak with a gamekeeper."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Sir John, I will, with many thanks," answered his guest, and in -about a quarter of an hour he was trotting away towards the new -cottage of Stephen Gimlet, with a groom to show him the way. That way -was a very picturesque one, cutting off an angle of the moor and then -winding through wild lanes rich with all sorts of flowers and shrubs, -till at length a small old gray church appeared in view at the side of -a little green. The stone, where the thick ivy hid it not, was -incrusted in many places with yellow, white, and brown lichens, giving -that peculiar rich hue with which nature is so fond of investing old -buildings. There was but one other edifice of any kind in the -neighbourhood, and that was a small cottage of two stories, built -close against one side of the church. Probably it had originally been -the abode of the sexton, and the ivy spreading from the neighbouring -buttress twined round the chimneys, meeting several lower shoots of -the same creeping plant, and enveloped one whole side in a green -mantle. The sunshine was streaming from behind the church, between it -and the cottage, and that ray made the whole scene look cheerful -enough; but yet Beauchamp could not help thinking, "This place, with -its solitary house and lonely church, its little green, and small -fields behind, with their close hedgerows, must look somewhat -desolate in dull weather. Still the house seems a comfortable one, and -there has been care bestowed upon the garden, with its flowers and -herbs. I hope this is Gimlet's cottage; for the very fact of finding -such things in preparation may waken in him different states from -those to which he has been habituated."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here's the place, Sir," said the groom, riding up and touching his -hat, and at the same moment the sound of the horses' feet brought the -rosy, curly-headed urchin of the <i>ci-devant</i> poacher trotting to the -door.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp dismounted and went in; and instantly a loud, yelping bark -was heard from the other side of the front room, where a terrier dog -was tied to the post of a sort of dresser. By the side of the dog was -the figure of the newly-constructed gamekeeper himself, stooping down -and arranging sundry boxes and cages on the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now the learned critic has paused on the words "newly-constructed -gamekeeper"--let him not deny it--and has cavilled thereat and -declared them incorrect. But I will defend them: they are neither -there by, and on account of, careless writing or careless printing; -but, well-considered, just, and appropriate, there they stand on the -author's responsibility. I contend he was a newly-constructed -gamekeeper, and out of very curious materials was he constructed, too.</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as he heard Beauchamp's step, Ste Gimlet, raised himself, and -recognising his visitor at once, a well-pleased smile spread over his -face, which the gentleman thought gave great promise for the future. -It is something, as this world goes, to be glad to see one from whom -we have received a benefit. The opposite emotion is more general -unless we expect new favours; a fact of which Beauchamp had been made -aware by some sad experience, and as the man's pleased look was -instantaneous, without a touch of affectation in it, he augured well -for some of the feelings of his heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Gimlet," said the visitor, "I am happy to see that some of your -stock has been saved, even if all your furniture has perished."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you, Sir," replied the other, "my furniture was not worth a -groat. I made most of it myself; but I lost a good many things it -won't be easy to get again. All the dogs that were in the house, but -this one, were burned or choked. He broke his cord and got away. All -my ferrets too, went, but three that were in the shed; and the tame -badger, poor fellow, I found a bit of his skin this morning. I thank -you very much, Sir, for what you gave me, and if you wait five minutes -you'll see what I've done with it. I think it will give you pleasure, -Sir; for I've contrived to get quite enough to set the place out -comfortably, and have something over in case any thing is forgotten."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp liked the man's way of expressing his gratitude by showing -that he appreciated the feelings in which the benefit was conferred. -It was worth a thousand hyperboles.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall stay some little time, Gimlet," he said, "for I have one or -two things to talk to you about, if you can spare a minute."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Certainly, Sir," answered the man in a respectful tone, "but I can't -ask you to sit down, because you see there is no chair."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never mind that," replied Beauchamp, "but what I wished principally -to say is this: my friend, Captain Hayward, takes a good deal of -interest in you and in your boy; and, as he was going to London to-day -he asked me to see you and tell you, that if you like to let the poor -little fellow attend any good school in the neighbourhood he will pay -the expenses. He wished me to point out to you what an advantage it -will be to him to have a good education, and also how much better and -more safe it is for him to be at school while you are absent on your -duty than shut up alone in your house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whatever that gentleman wishes, Sir, I will do," Gimlet replied, "I -never knew one like him before--I wish I had--but, however, I am bound -to do what he tells me; and even if I did not see and know that what -he says in this matter is good and right, I would do it all the same. -But as for paying, Sir, I hope he won't ask me to let him do that, for -I have now got quite enough and to spare; and although I feel it a -pleasure to be grateful to such a gentleman, yet he can do good -elsewhere with the money."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You can settle that with him afterwards, Gimlet," replied Mr. -Beauchamp, "for he is coming back in a day or two; but I now want to -ask you a question which you must answer or not as you think fit. You -were with Captain Hayward, it seems, when he came up with the man who -fired into the window of the hall, and you saw his face, I think?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Gimlet nodded his head, saying, "I did Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you know the man?" asked Beauchamp, fixing his eyes upon him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, Sir," replied the other at once, with the colour coming up into -his face, "but before you go on, just let me say a word. That person -and I were in some sort companions together once, in a matter we had -better have let alone, and I should not like to 'peach."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In regard to the attack upon the carriage--to which I know you -allude--I am not about to inquire," replied Beauchamp, "but I will ask -you only one other question, and I promise you, upon my honour, not to -use any thing you tell me against the person. Was his name Moreton?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I won't tell you a lie, Sir," answered Gimlet. "It was, though how -you have found it out I can't guess, for he has been away from this -part of the country for many a year."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It matters not," answered Beauchamp, "how I found it out; I know he -has been absent many a year. Can you tell me how long he has -returned?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I can't say, I'm sure, Sir," replied the man; "but I did hear -that he and the lady have been lodging at Buxton's inn for a day or -two, but not more. It's a great pity to see how he has gone on, and to -sell that fine old place that has been theirs for so many hundred -years! I should think, that if one had any thing worth having that had -been one's father's, one's grandfather's, and one's great -grandfather's, for such a long while, it would keep one straight. It's -mostly when a man has nothing to pride himself upon that he goes -wrong."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not always," answered Beauchamp, "unbridled passion, my good friend, -youth, inexperience, sometimes accident, lead a man to commit a false -step, and that is very difficult to retrieve in his life."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Aye, aye, I know that, I know that, Sir," answered Gimlet, "but I -hope not impossible;" and he looked up in Beauchamp's face, with an -expression of doubt and inquiry.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By no means impossible," replied the gentleman, "and the man who has -the courage and strength of mind to retrieve a false step, gives a -better assurance to society for his future conduct than perhaps a man -who has never committed one can do."</p> - -<p class="normal">Gimlet looked down and meditated for one minute or two, and, though he -did not distinctly express the subject of his contemplation, his -reverie ended with the words, "Well I will try." The next moment he -added, "I don't think, however, that this Captain Moreton will ever -make much of it; for he has been going on now a long while in the same -way, from a boy to a lad, and from a lad to a man. He broke his -father's heart, they say, after having ruined him to pay his debts; -but the worst of it all is, he was always trying to make others as bad -as himself. He did me no good; for when I was a boy and used to go out -and carry his game-bag, he put me up to all manner of things, and that -was the beginning of my liking to what people call poaching. Then, -too, he had a great hand in ruining this young Harry Wittingham. He -taught him to gamble and drink, and a great deal more, when he was a -mere child, I may say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" exclaimed Beauchamp, "then the young man is to be pitied -more than blamed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know, Sir, I don't know," answered the gamekeeper; "he's a -bad-hearted fellow. He set fire to my cottage, that's clear enough, -and he knew the boy was in it too; but this business of firing in at -the window I can't make out at all; I should have thought it had been -an accident if he had not afterwards taken a shot at Captain Hayward."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wish to Heaven I could think it was an accident," answered -Beauchamp; "but that is out of the question. They say there are -thoughts of pulling down the old house, if the place is not sold again -very soon. How far is it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, not three-quarters of a mile from this," replied the gamekeeper. -"Have you never seen it, Sir? It is a fine old place."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I have seen it in former years," said Beauchamp. "Is it in this -parish, then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes, Sir, this is the parish church here. They all lie buried in a -vault here, and their monuments are in the aisle; would you like to -see them? The key is always left in this cottage. There they lie, more -than twenty of them--the Moretons, I mean--for you know the man's -father was not a Moreton; he was a brother of the Lord Viscount -Lenham; but, when he married the heiress he took the name of Moreton, -according to her father's will. His tomb is in there, and I think it -runs, 'The Honourable Henry John St. Leger Moreton.' It is a plain -enough tomb for such a fine gentleman as he was; but those of the -Moretons are very handsome, with great figures cut in stone as big as -life."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should like to see them," said Beauchamp, rousing himself from a -reverie.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That's easily done," answered the gamekeeper, taking a large key from -a nail driven into the wall, and leading the way to a small side-door -of the church.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You tell me he was down here with the lady," said Beauchamp, as the -man was opening the door. "Do you know if he is married?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I can't say, Sir," answered the man. "He had a lady with him, -and a strange-looking lady, too, with all manner of colours in -her clothes. I saw her three days ago. She must have been a -handsome-looking woman, too, when she was young; but she looks, I -don't know how now."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp tried to make him explain himself; but the man could give no -better description; and, walking on into the church, they passed along -from monument to monument, pausing to read the different inscriptions, -the greater part of which were more intelligible to Beauchamp than his -companion, as many were written in Latin. At length they came to a -small and very plain tablet of modern erection, which bore the name of -the last possessor of the Moreton property; and Beauchamp paused and -gazed at it long, with a very sad and gloomy air.</p> - -<p class="normal">There is always something melancholy in contemplating the final -resting-place of the last of a long line. The mind naturally sums up -the hopes gone by, the cherished expectations frustrated, the grandeur -and the brightness passed away; the picture of many generations in -infancy, manhood, decrepitude, with a long train of sports and joys, -and pangs and sufferings, rises like a moving pageant to the eye of -imagination; and the heart draws its own homily from the fate and -history of others. But there seemed something more than this in the -young gentleman's breast. His countenance was stern, as well as sad; -it expressed a bitter gloom, rather than melancholy; and, folding his -arms upon his chest, with a knitted brow, and teeth hard set together, -he gazed upon the tablet in deep silence, till a step in the aisle -behind him startled him; and, turning round, he beheld good Doctor -Miles slowly pacing up the aisle towards him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Stephen Gimlet bowed low to the rector, and took a step back; but -Beauchamp did not change his place, though he welcomed his reverend -friend with a smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I want to speak with you, Stephen," said Doctor Miles, as he -approached; and then, turning towards Beauchamp, he added, "How are -you, my dear Sir? There are some fine monuments here."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp laid his hand upon the clergyman's arm, and, pointing to the -tablet before him, murmured in a low voice; "I have something to say -to you about that, my good friend; I will walk back with you; for I -have long intended to talk to you on several subjects which had better -not be delayed any longer;--I will leave you to speak with this good -man here, if you will join me before the cottage."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, you need not go, you need not go," said Doctor Miles, "I have -nothing to say you may not hear.--I wanted to tell you, Stephen," he -continued, turning to the <i>ci-devant</i> poacher, "that I have been down -to-day to Tarningham, and have seen old Mrs. Lamb and her son -William."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He's a dear good boy, Sir," said Stephen Gimlet, gazing in the -rector's face, "and he was kind to me, and used to come up and see his -poor sister Mary when nobody else would come near her. That poor -little fellow, all crooked and deformed as he is, has more heart and -soul in him than the whole town of Tarningham."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are more good people in Tarningham and in the world, Stephen, -than you know," answered Doctor Miles, with a sharp look; "you have to -learn, my good friend, that there are natural consequences attached to -every particular line of conduct; and, as you turn a key in a door, -one way to open it, and another way to shut it; so, if your conduct be -good, you open men's hearts towards you; if your conduct be bad, you -close them."</p> - -<p class="normal">Stephen Gimlet rubbed his finger on his temple, and answered in a -somewhat bitter, but by no means insolent tone: "It's a very hard -lock, Sir, that of men's hearts; and when once it's shut, the bolt -gets mighty rusty--at least, so I've found it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stephen! Stephen!"--exclaimed the worthy clergyman, raising -his finger with a monitory and reproachful gesture, "can you say -so.--especially to-day?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Sir; no, Sir;" cried Stephen Gimlet, eagerly, "I am wrong; I am -very wrong; butj ust then there came across me the recollection of all -the hard usage I have had for twelve long years, and how it had driven -me from bad to worse--ay! and killed my poor Mary, too; for her father -was very hard; and though he said her marrying me broke his heart, I -am sure he broke hers."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must not brood upon such things, Gimlet," said Doctor Miles. "It -is better, wiser, and more christian, for every man to think of the -share which his own faults have had in shaping his own fate; and, if -he do so coolly and dispassionately, he will find much less blame to -be attributed to others than he is inclined to believe. But do not let -us waste time upon such considerations. I went down to talk to Mrs. -Lamb about you and your boy; I told her what Sir John had done for -you; and the imminent peril of death which the poor child had fallen -into, from being left totally alone, when you are absent. The good old -woman--and pray remark, Stephen, I don't call people good, as the -world generally does, without thinking them so,--was very much -affected and wept a good deal, and in the end she said she was quite -ready to come up and keep house for you, and take care of the child -while you are away."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man seemed troubled; for the offer was one which, in many -respects, was pleasant and convenient to him; but there was a bitter -remnant of resentment at the opposition which his unfortunate wife's -parents had shown to her marriage with himself, and at the obstinacy -with which her father had refused all reconciliation, that struggled -against better feelings, and checked any reply upon his lips. Doctor -Miles, however, was an experienced reader of the human heart; and, -when he saw such ulcerations, he generally knew the remedy, and how to -apply it. In this instance he put all evil spirits to flight in a -moment by awakening a better one, in whose presence they could not -stand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The only difficulty with poor Mrs. Lamb seemed to be," he said, after -watching the man's countenance during a momentary pause, "that she is -so poor. She said that you would have enough to do with your money, -and that the little she has, which does not amount to four shillings a -week, would not pay her part of your housekeeping.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, if that's all, doctor," cried Stephen Gimlet, "don't let that -stand in the way. My poor Mary's mother shall never want a meal when I -can work for it. I'd find her one any how, if I had to go without -myself. Besides, you know, I am rich now, and I'll take care to keep -all straight, so as not to get poor again. There could not be a -greater pleasure to me, I can assure you, Sir, than to share whatever -I've got with poor Mary's mother, and that dear good boy Bill. Thanks -to this kind gentleman, I've got together a nice little lot of -furniture; and, if the old woman will but bring her bed, we shall do -very well, I'll warrant; and the boy will be taken care of, and go to -the school; and we'll all lead a different sort of life and be quite -happy, I dare say--No, not quite happy! I can never be quite happy any -more, since my poor girl left me; but she is happy, I am sure; and -that's one comfort."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The greatest," said Doctor Miles, whose spirit of philanthropy in a -peculiar way was very easily roused, "the greatest, Stephen; and, as -it is by no means impossible, nor, I will say, improbable, both from -the light of natural reason and many passages of Scripture, that the -spirits of the dead are permitted to see the conduct and actions of -those they loved on earth, after the long separation has occurred, -think what a satisfaction it will be to your poor wife, if she can -behold you acting as a son to her mother,--mind, I don't say that such -a thing is by any means certain; I only hint that it is not -impossible, nor altogether improbable, that such a power may exist in -disembodied spirits."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am quite sure it does," said Stephen Gimlet, with calm earnestness; -"I have seen her many a time sitting by the side of the water -under the willow trees, and watching me when I was putting in my -night-lines."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think you are mistaken, Stephen," said Doctor Miles, shaking his -head; "but, at all events, if such a thing be possible, she will now -watch you with more satisfaction, when you are supplying her place in -affection to her mother."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will do my best, Sir," said Stephen Gimlet, "if it be only on that -account."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sure you will, Stephen," answered the worthy clergyman; "and so, -the first spare moment you have, you had better go down and talk with -Mrs. Lamb.--Now, Mr. Beauchamp, I am ready."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXIV.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, sit down and cheer yourself, Goody Lamb," said Stephen -Gimlet, after an interval of thirty hours--for I must pass over for -the present those other events affecting more important characters in -this tale, which filled up the intervening time in the neighbourhood -of Tarningham--"let bygones be bygones, as they say in the country -where you have lived so much. Here you are, in as comfortable a -cottage as any in the country. I have plenty, and to spare; and, -forgetting all that's past and done, I will try to be a son to you and -a brother to poor Bill."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you, Stephen, thank you," said the old woman, to whom he -spoke--a quiet, resigned-looking person, with fine features, and large -dark eyes, undimmed by time, though the hair was as white as snow, the -skin exceedingly wrinkled, and the frame, apparently, enfeebled and -bowed down with sickness, cares, or years; "I am sure you will do what -you can, my poor lad; but still I cannot help feeling a little odd at -having to move again at my time of life. I thought, when I and my poor -husband, Davie Lamb, came up here to Tarningham, out of Scotland, it -was the last time I should have to change. But we can never tell what -may happen to us. I fancied, when I went to Scotland with stiff old -Miss Moreton, that I was to be settled there for life. There I married -Lamb, and thought it less likely than ever that I should change, when, -suddenly, he takes it into his head to come up here to the place where -I was born and brought up, and never told me why or wherefore."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, he was a close, hard man," said Stephen Gimlet; "he was not -likely to give reasons to any one; he never did to me, but just said -two or three words, and flung away."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was a kind husband and a kind father," said the widow, "though he -said less than most men, I will acknowledge."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was not kind to his poor, dear girl," muttered Stephen Gimlet, in -a tone which rendered his words scarcely audible; but yet the widow -caught, or divined their sense clearly enough; and she answered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Stephen, don't let us talk about it. There are some things that -you and I cannot well agree upon; and it is better not to speak of -them. Poor Davie's temper was soured by a great many things. People -did not behave to him as well as they ought; and, although I have a -notion they persuaded him to come here, they did not do for him all -they promised."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That's likely," answered the <i>ci-devant</i> poacher; "though I have no -occasion to say so, either; for people have done much more for me than -they ever promised, and more than I ever expected. See what good Sir -John Slingsby has done, after I have been taking his game for this -many a year; and Mr. Beauchamp, too--why, it was a twenty-pound note -he gave me, just because he heard that my cottage had been burnt down, -and all the things in it destroyed--but it was all owing to Captain -Hayward, who began it by saving the dear boy's life, that lies -sleeping there in t'other room, and spoke well of me--which nobody -ever took the trouble to do before--and said I was not so bad as I -seemed; and, please God, I'll not give his promises the lie, anyhow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God bless him for a good man," said Widow Lamb: "he is one of the -few, Stephen, whose heart and soul are in doing good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that he is," answered the gamekeeper; "but I did not know you -knew him, goody."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I do not know much of him," answered the old lady, "but I know he -has been very kind to my boy Bill; and before he went off for London -t'other day, had a long talk to him, which is better, to my thinking -than the money he gave him--but who is is this Mr. Beauchamp, you say -is such a kind man, too? I've heard Bill talk of him, and he tells me -the same; but I can't well make out about him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, he is a friend of Captain Hayward's," rejoined the gamekeeper; -"he has been staying a long while at the White Hart, and just the same -sort of man as the other, though a sadder-looking man, and not so -frank and free."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what looking man is he?" asked the old woman. "You can tell one -what a dog's like, or what a ferret's like, Stephen, well enough; and -I should like to hear about him; for I have a curiosity, somehow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, he is a tall man and a strong man," answered Stephen Gimlet, -"with a good deal of darkish hair, not what one would say curling, but -yet not straight, either; and large eyes, in which you can see little -or no white; very bright and sparkling, too. Then he's somewhat pale -and sunburnt; and very plain in his dress, always in dark clothes; but -yet, when one looks at him, one would not like to say a saucy thing to -him; for there is something, I don't know what, in his way and his -look, that, though he is as kind as possible when he speaks, seems to -tell every body, 'I am not an ordinary sort of person.' He never wears -any gloves, that I saw; but, for all that, his hands are as clean as -if they had been washed the minute before, and the wristbands of his -shirt are as white as snow."</p> - -<p class="normal">Goody Lamb paused, thoughtfully, and rubbed her forehead once or -twice, under the gray hair:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have seen him, then," she said at length, in a very peculiar tone; -"he has passed my little window more than once--and his name is -Beauchamp is it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So they say," answered Stephen Gimlet, in some surprise; "why should -it not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! I don't know," answered the widow; and there she ceased.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, you are very droll to-night, goody," said Stephen Gimlet; "but -I should like a cup of tea before I go out upon my rounds; so I'll -just get some sticks to make the fire burn; for that kettle does -nothing but simmer."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he went into the little passage, and out into a small -yard, whence he brought a faggot or two. He then laid them on the hot -embers, blew up a flame, made the kettle boil; and, all this time, not -a word passed between him and Goody Lamb; for both seemed very busy -with thoughts of their own. At length, when a teapot and some cups had -been produced, and a small packet of tea wrapped up in a brown paper, -the old lady sat down to prepare the beverage for her son-in-law, as -the first act of kindly service she rendered him since she had -undertaken to keep his house. To say the truth, it was more for -herself than for him that the tea was made; for Stephen Gimlet did not -like the infusion, and was not accustomed to it; but he knew the good -dame's tastes, and was anxious to make her as comfortable as he could.</p> - -<p class="normal">While she was making the tea after her own peculiar fashion--and -almost every one has a mode of his own--Gimlet stood on the other side -of the little deal table and watched her proceedings. At length he -said, somewhat suddenly, "Yes, Mr. Beauchamp was up here, yesterday, -just when Doctor Miles was talking to me, and he asked me a great many -questions about--" and here he paused, thinking he might be violating -some confidence if he mentioned the subject of his visitor's -inquiries. The next instant he concluded his sentence in a different -way from that which he first intended, saying--"about a good many -things; and then he went into the church with me and looked at all the -tombs of the Moretons, and especially that of the last gentleman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, well he might," answered Goody Lamb.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" exclaimed Stephen Gimlet, with a slight laugh; "then you -seem to know more of him than I do."</p> - -<p class="normal">Goody Lamb nodded her head; and her son-in-law proceeded with some -warmth: "Then I am sure you know no harm of him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Stephen, no," she said, "I do not! I saw him as a young lad, and -I have not seen him since; but I have not forgotten him; for he came -down to my house--what is called the Grieves-house in Scotland--on the -morning of a day that turned out the heaviest day of his life; and he -was a gay young lad then; and he saw my poor boy, who was then a -little fellow of four years old, that all the folks there used to gibe -at on account of his misfortunes; but this gentleman took him on his -knee and patted his head and was kind to him, and said he was a clever -boy, and gave him a couple of shillings to buy himself a little flute, -because the poor fellow was fond of music even then, and used to -whistle so sweetly, it was enough to break one's heart to hear such -sounds come from such a poor body. The gentleman has never thought of -me or mine since then, I'll warrant, but I have thought of him often -enough; and I'll ask him a question or two someday, please God."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The heaviest day in his life," repeated Stephen Gimlet, who had -marked every word she uttered with strong attention; "how was that, -Goody?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," answered Widow Lamb, shaking her head, "as they say in that -country, it is no good talking of all that; so ask me no more -questions, Stephen; but sit down and take your tea, my man, and then -go about your work."</p> - -<p class="normal">Stephen Gimlet sat down and, with not the greatest pleasure in the -world, took a cup of the beverage she had prepared; but still he was -very thoughtful; for there was something in Mr. Beauchamp, even in the -grave sadness of his ordinary manner, which created a kind of interest -in a man of a peculiarly imaginative character; and he would have -given a good deal to know all that Widow Lamb could tell, but would -not. He did not choose to question her, however; and, after having -finished a large slice of brown bread, he rose and unfastened the only -dog he had remaining, in order to go out upon his night's round.</p> - -<p class="normal">Just at that moment, however, some one tried the latch of the cottage, -and then knocked for admission; and the dog, springing forward, -growled, barked, and snarled furiously.</p> - -<p class="normal">The gamekeeper chid him back, and then opened the door, when, to his -surprise, he saw the figure of young Harry Wittingham before him. The -dog sprang forward again, as if he would have torn the visitor to -pieces; and, to say the truth, Stephen Gimlet felt a great inclination -to let the beast have his way; but, after a moment's thought, he drove -it back again, saying, with a bitter laugh,</p> - -<p class="normal">"The beast knows the danger of letting you in. What do you want with -me, Sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I want you to do me a great service, Ste," said Harry Wittingham, -with a familiar and friendly air; "and I am sure you will, if--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I won't," answered Stephen Gimlet, "if it were to save you from -hanging, I would not put my foot over that doorstep. It is no use -talking, Mr. Wittingham; I will have nothing more to do with any of -your tricks. I don't wish ever to see you again; I am in a new way of -life, and it won't do, I can tell you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I have heard all about that," answered the young man, in a light -tone; "and, moreover, that you have taken a silly fancy into your -head, that I set fire to your cottage. It is all nonsense, upon my -word. Your boy must have done it, playing with the fire that was on -the hearth."</p> - -<p class="normal">Stephen Gimlet's face turned somewhat pale with the effort to keep -down the anger that was in his heart; but he replied shortly and -quickly, for fear it should burst forth:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The boy had no fire to play with--you knew well he was locked up in -the bedroom, and there he was found, when you burned the place down."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, if I had any hand in it," said young Wittingham, "it must have -been a mere accident."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, when you knew there was a poor helpless child in the house," said -Stephen Gimlet, bitterly, "it was a sort of accident which well-nigh -deserved hanging."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nonsense, nonsense, my good fellow," said the young man, "you are -angry about nothing; and though you have got a good place, I dare say -you are not a man to refuse a couple of guineas when they are offered -to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you offer them," cried Stephen Gimlet, furiously, "I'll throw them -in your face--an accident, indeed! to burn my cottage, and nearly my -poor child! I suppose it was by accident that you stopped the carriage -in the lane? And by accident that you set a man to fire at your own -father through the window?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush, hush, Stephen," cried Widow Lamb, catching hold of his coat and -attempting to keep him back, as he took a step towards Harry -Wittingham, who turned very pale.</p> - -<p class="normal">The young man recovered his audacity the next moment, however, and -exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pooh! let him alone, good woman; if he thinks to bully me, he is -mistaken."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Get out of this house," cried Stephen Gimlet, advancing close to him. -"Get out of this house, without another word, or I'll break your -neck!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are a fool," answered young Wittingham; "and, if you don't mind, -I'll send you to Botany Bay."</p> - -<p class="normal">The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when Stephen Gimlet aimed a -straight blow at him with his right hand, which was immediately -parried; for the young vagabond was not unskilful in the science of -defence; but, the next instant, the gamekeeper's left told with -stunning effect in the midst of his face, and he fell prostrate, with -his head out of the doorway and his feet within. Stephen Gimlet looked -at him for a moment, then, stooping down, lifted him in his strong -arms, pitched him headlong out, and shut the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There!" said Gimlet;--"now I'll sit down for a minute and get cool."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXV.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">We will go back, if it pleases the reader; for fortunately, it -happens, that, in a work of this character, one can go back. Oh, how -often in human life is it to be wished, that we could do the same! -What deeds, done amiss, would then be rectified! What mistakes in -thought, in conduct, in language, would then be corrected! What evils -for the future avoided! What false steps would be turned back! What -moral bonds shackling our whole being, would not then be broken! I do -believe, that, if any man would take any hour out of any period of his -life, and look at it with a calm, impartial, unprejudiced eye, he -would feel a longing to turn back and change something therein: he -would wish to say more, than he had said--or less--to say it in a -different tone--with a different look--or he would have acted -differently--he would have yielded--or resisted--or listened--or -refused to listen--he would wish to have exerted himself -energetically--or to have remained passive--or to have meditated ere -he acted--or considered something he had forgotten--or attended to the -small, still voice in his heart, when he had shut his ears. Something, -something, he ever would have altered in the past! But, alas! the past -is the only reality of life, unchangeable, irretrievable, -indestructible; we can neither mould it, nor recall it, nor wipe it -out. There it stands for ever: the rock of adamant, up whose steep -side we can hew no backward path.</p> - -<p class="normal">We will turn back to where we left Doctor Miles and Beauchamp. Issuing -forth from the church, and, passing round Stephen Gimlet's cottage, -they found the worthy clergyman's little phaeton standing by the two -horses which Beauchamp had brought from Tarningham Park. Orders were -given for the four-wheeled and four-footed things to follow slowly; -and the two gentlemen walked forward on foot, the younger putting his -hand lightly through the arm of the elder, as a man does, when he -wishes to bespeak attention to what he is going to say.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been looking at those monuments with some interest, my dear -doctor," said Beauchamp, after they had taken about twenty steps in -advance; "and now I am going to make you, in some degree, what, I dare -say, as a good Protestant divine, you never expected to become--my -father-confessor. There are several things, upon which I much wish to -consult you, as I have great need of a good and fair opinion and -advice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The best that it is in my power to give, you shall have, my young -friend," answered Doctor Miles; "not that I expect you to take my -advice, either; for I never yet, in the course of a long life, knew -above two men, who did take advice, when it was given. But that is not -always the fault of the giver; and, therefore, mine is ever ready, -when it is asked. What is it you have to say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"More, I fear, than can be well said in one conversation," answered -Beauchamp; "but I had better begin and tell a part, premising, that it -is under the seal of confession, and therefore----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Shall be as much your own secret, as if it had not been given to me," -said Doctor Miles; "go on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, for one part of the story," said Beauchamp, with a smile -at his old companion's abruptness; "in the first place, my dear -doctor, I am, in some sort, an impostor; and our mutual friend, -Stanhope, has aided the cheat."</p> - -<p class="normal">Doctor Miles turned round sharply, and looked in his face for a -moment; then nodded his head, as he saw there was no appearance of -shame in the expression, and gazed straightforward again, without -saying a word.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To make the matter short, my good friend," continued his companion, -"my name is not Beauchamp at all, nor any thing the least like it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Nom de guerre</i>," said Doctor Miles; "pray, what may the war be -about?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of that hereafter," said Beauchamp--"for I shall still continue to -call him by the name which he repudiated. You have seen, that I have -been somewhat anxious to purchase this Moreton Hall property, and am -still anxious to do so, though I have received a little bit of news on -that subject to-day, which may make me very cautious about the -examination of titles, &c. This intelligence is, that the ostensible -proprietor is not the real one; your acquaintance, Mr. Wharton, having -become virtually possessed of the property, perhaps, by not the -fairest means."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph!" said Doctor Miles; but he added nothing further, and -Beauchamp went on.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Poor Mr. St. Leger Moreton," he said, "was by no means a man of -business, an easy, kind-hearted, somewhat too sensitive person."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know, I know," answered Doctor Miles, "I was well acquainted with -him; and if ever man died of a broken heart, which is by no means so -unusual an occurrence as people suppose, he did so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I believe it," answered Beauchamp; "but, at all events, he was not a -man, as you must know, to ascertain, that he was dealt fairly by. His -son, I am sorry to say, was willing to do any thing for ready money--I -say any thing, for I do not know that act to which he would not have -recourse for any object that he sought to gain."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You seem to know them all thoroughly," said Doctor Miles, drily; and -he then added in a warmer tone, "I will tell you what, my dear Sir, -this Captain Moreton is one of those men who make us ashamed of human -nature. Born to a fine estate, the son of an excellent woman and -amiable man, though a weak one, he went on corrupting himself and -every one else, from boyhood to youth, and from youth to manhood. He -is the only man I have ever known without one principle of any kind, -or one redeeming point. There is but one thing to be said in his -excuse, namely, that his great aunt, old Miss Moreton, who went to -Scotland, and left him a small property there of about a thousand a -year, which he dissipated totally in eleven weeks after he got it, -spoiled him from his infancy, pampered, indulged, encouraged him in -the most frightful manner. Even his vices became virtues in her eyes; -so that there is not much marvel that he became a gambler, a -<i>débauchée</i>, a duellist, and a scoundrel. People may consider that his -courage and his talents were redeeming qualities, but I look upon them -as none. They were only energies, which carried him on to deeper -wickedness and infamy. He is now, I believe, a common sharper and -swindler."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have let you go on, doctor," said Beauchamp, "because you have not -said one word that is not just; but yet I must tell you, that this -gentleman is my first cousin, and, unfortunately, heir to my estates -and name."</p> - -<p class="normal">Doctor Miles halted suddenly, and looked at his companion with some -surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This takes me unprepared," he said; "I never heard of his having more -than one cousin, namely, the present Lord Lenham; and he, I -understood, was travelling in India for pleasure--a curious place to -go for pleasure--but all men have their whims."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was not exactly a whim that led me thither, my dear doctor," said -Beauchamp; "from the time I was twenty-one years of age up to the -present hour, I have been a wanderer over the face of the earth, -expiating in bitterness of heart one early error. I have not time now, -and, I may say also, I have not spirits at the present moment to enter -into the long detail of my past history. Let it suffice for the -present to say, that a species of persecution, very difficult to avoid -or bear, made me for many years a stranger to my native country. I -visited every part of Europe and America, and then thought I would -travel in the East, visiting scenes full of interest both from their -novelty, in some respects, and from the vast antiquity to which their -history and many of their monuments go back. As I found that all my -movements were watched for the purpose of subjecting me to annoyance, -I thought my residence in India a favourable opportunity for dropping -my title and assuming another name, and have ever since gone by that -of Beauchamp. During these wanderings my income has far exceeded my -expenditure; a large sum of money has accumulated, and, on my return -to England, I was advised to invest it in land. My attention was first -directed to this estate, which I am desirous of purchasing, by finding -a letter at my agents from my cousin Captain Moreton, expressing great -penitence for all that has passed, professing a desire to retrieve his -errors, lamenting the loss of the family property, and asking for a -loan of five thousand pounds.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope you did not give it him," cried Doctor Miles. "His penitence -is all feigned; his reformation false; the money would go at the -gambling-table in a week. I am not uncharitable in saying so, for I -have had the opportunity of ascertaining within this month, that the -man is the same as ever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So I found on making inquiries," rejoined Beauchamp, "and -consequently I refused decidedly. This refusal brought a most insolent -and abusive letter, of which I took no notice; but having received -intimation that the man is married, I made up my mind to the following -course: to purchase this property, and, if he have any children, to -make it the condition of my giving him pecuniary assistance, that he -shall give up one of them to be educated entirely by myself. Having -insured that all shall be done to make that child a worthy member of -society, I would settle the Moreton estate upon it, and thus, at all -events, leave one of my name in a situation to do honour to it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A kind plan, and a good one," said Doctor Miles; "but yet people will -call it a whimsical one, and wonder that you do not marry yourself and -transmit your property and name to children of your own."</p> - -<p class="normal">A bright and cheerful smile came upon Beauchamp's face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hitherto, my dear doctor," he said, "that has been impossible. The -obstacles, however, are now removed--at least, I believe so; and, -perhaps, some day I may follow the course you suggest, but that will -make no difference in regard to my intention. If I have children of my -own, they will have more than enough for happiness, and having -conceived a scheme of this kind, I never like to abandon it. I will -therefore purchase this property, if it can be ascertained that Mr. -Wharton's title is perfectly clear; but perhaps you, as the clergyman -of two parishes here, can obtain proofs for me, that all the -collateral heirs to the estate, under the entail made by Sir Charles -Moreton, are extinct beyond all doubt. Under those circumstances, the -sale by my uncle and his son would be valid."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wharton would not have bought it without he was sure," said Doctor -Miles.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The sum actually paid was very small," replied Beauchamp, in a -peculiar tone, "all the rest went to cover a debt, real or pretended, -of Mr. Wharton's own, but here we are at the gates of the park, and so -I must bring our conference to an end. To-morrow or the next day I -will tell you more of my personal history, for there are other -subjects on which I must consult you. Do you know who this is riding -up so fast?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A fool," said Doctor Miles; and almost as he spoke, a young, -fresh-coloured man, dressed in a green coat and leather breeches, and -mounted on a splendid horse, with a servant behind him, cantered up, -and sprang to the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know--ah--whether I have the honour of speaking to Mr. -Beauchamp--ah," he said, in a self-sufficient tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp bowed his head, saying, "The same, Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, Sir--ah--my name is Granty--ah--and you see--ah--I have -been referred to you--ah--as the friend of a certain Captain -Hayward--ah--in reference to a little affair--ah--between him and my -friend Harry Wittingham--ah--whom he threatened to horsewhip--ah."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If he threatened," answered Beauchamp, in a calm tone, "he is a very -likely man to fulfil his words--but I think, Sir, we had better speak -upon this subject alone, as Captain Hayward has put me in possession -of his views. This is my friend, Doctor Miles, a clergyman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes, I know Doctor Miles--ah," said Mr. Granty, "a very good -fellow, aren't you, Miles--ah?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Sir, I am not," answered Doctor Miles; "but now, Mr. Beauchamp, I -will leave you, as you seem to have some pleasant conversation before -you;" and shaking Mr. Beauchamp by the hand without any further -apparent notice of what he had heard, Doctor Miles walked to the side -of his carriage and got in, honouring Mr. Granty with the sort of -cold, stiff bow that a poker might be supposed to make if it were -taught to dance a minuet. But Doctor Miles had noticed all that had -passed, and did not forget it.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, dear reader, we will put our horses into a quicker pace, leap -over all the further conversation between Mr. Beauchamp and Mr. -Granty, and also an intervening space of two days, merely premising -that, during that period, from a great number of knots on the tangled -string of events, neither Mary Clifford nor Isabella Slingsby had any -opportunity of speaking to Mr. Beauchamp for more than two minutes in -private. Those two minutes were employed by Miss Clifford, to whose -lot they fell, in telling him, with a hesitating and varying colour, -that she very much wished for a short conversation with him. Beauchamp -was surprised, but he answered with courtesy and kindness, and wished -her to proceed at once. Sir John Slingsby was upon them the next -moment, however, and the matter was deferred.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus went the two days I have mentioned, but on the morning of the -third, just about half-past five, when every body but skylarks are -supposed to be asleep, Mr. Beauchamp and our friend Ned Hayward -entered the small meadow just under the trees by the palings of -Tarningham Park, on the side next to Tarningham, near the spot where -the river issued forth into the fields on its onward progress. They -were followed by a man, carrying a mahogany case, bound with brass, -and a gentleman in a black coat, with a surgical air about him; for -strange human nature seldom goes out to make a hole in another piece -of human nature, without taking precautions for mending it as soon as -made.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp took out his watch and satisfied himself that they were to -their time, spoke a few words to the surgeon, unlocked the mahogany -box, looked at some of the things it contained, and then walked up and -down the field with Ned Hayward for a quarter of an hour.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is too bad, Hayward," he said, at length; "I think we might very -well now retire."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," said Hayward, "give him law enough, one can never tell what -may stop a man. He shall have another quarter of an hour. Then if he -does not come, he shall have the horsewhipping."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ten minutes more passed, and then two other gentlemen entered the -field, with a follower, coming up at a quick pace, and with heated -brows.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beg pardon, gentlemen--ah," said Mr. Granty, advancing; "but we have -had the devil's own work--ah--to get the tools--ah. My friend -Wittingham was knocked down by a fellow--ah--that he was sending for -cash, so that I had to furnish--ah--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never mind all this," said Beauchamp, "you are now here, though you -have kept my friend waiting. We had better proceed to business at -once, as I have had a hint that from a slight indiscretion on your -part, Sir, in mentioning this matter before a clergyman, inquiries -have been made which may produce inconvenient results."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Granty was somewhat nettled; but neither Beauchamp nor Hayward -attended to any of his 'ahs;' the ground was measured, the pistols -loaded, the two gentlemen placed on their ground, and then came the -unpleasant "one--two--three." Both fired instantly, and the next -moment Harry Wittingham reeled and dropped. Beauchamp thought he saw -Ned Hayward waver slightly, more as if the pistol had recoiled -violently in his hand than any thing else; but, as soon as his -antagonist fell, the young officer ran up to him, stooped and raised -his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">The surgeon came up directly and opened the wounded man's coat and -waistcoat as he lay with his face as pale as ashes. At the same -moment, however, there was a cry of "Hie, hie," and turning round, -Beauchamp saw the poor little pot-boy, Billy Lamb, scampering across -the field as hard as he could go.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Run, run," cried the boy; "there are the magistrates and the -constables all coming up--run over by the style there; I brought the -chaise to the end of the lane.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can't go," said Ned Hayward, "till I hear what is to come of this."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had better go," said the surgeon, looking up; "it does not seem to -me to be dangerous, but you may get into prison if you stay. No, it -has shattered the rib, but passed round. He will do well, I think. -Run, run; I can see the people coming."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp took Ned Hayward's arm and drew him away. In two minutes -they had reached the chaise and were rolling on; but then Ned Hayward -leaned back somewhat languidly, and said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wish, Beauchamp, you would just tie your handkerchief tight round -my shoulder here, for it is bleeding more than I thought, and I feel -sickish."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good Heavens! are you hurt?" exclaimed Beauchamp, and opening his -waistcoat, he saw that the whole right side of his shirt was steeped -in blood.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXVI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">I do believe, from my very heart and soul, that there is not the -slightest possible good in attempting to write a book regularly. I say -with prime ministers and maid-servants, with philosophers and fools, -"I've tried it, and surely I ought to know." It may be objected that -the result entirely depends upon the way in which a thing is tried, -and that a very simple experiment would fail or might fail in the -hands of a fool or a maid-servant, which would succeed in those of a -prime minister or a philosopher. Nevertheless, it is true that critics -make rules which life will not conform to. Art says one thing, nature -another; and, in such a case, a fig for art! Art may teach us how to -embellish nature, or show us what to portray.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not be continually changing the scene," says the critic, "do not -run from character to character; introduce no personage who does not -tend to bring about some result;" but in the course of human events -the scene is always shifting; the characters which pass before our -eyes, cross and return at every instant, and innumerable personages -flit before us like shadows over a glass, leaving no trace of their -having been. Others, indeed, appear for an instant not only on the -limited stage of domestic life, but often on the great scene of the -world, act their appointed part, produce some particular effect, and -then like those strange visitants of our system, the comets, rush back -into the depths from which they emerged but for an hour.</p> - -<p class="normal">All this has been written to prove that it is perfectly right and -judicious that I should introduce my beloved reader into the study of -Mr. Wharton, or rather Abraham Wharton, Esq., solicitor, and -attorney-at-law. Mr. Wharton was a small, spare, narrow man, of a -tolerably gentlemanlike figure; and, to look at his back, one of those -prepossessions which lead us all by the nose, made one believe that -his face must be a thin, sharp, foxlike face, probably with a dark -black beard, closely shaved, making the muzzle look blue.</p> - -<p class="normal">On getting round in front, however, the surprise of the new -acquaintance was great to see a red and blotchy countenance, with -sharp black eyes, and very little beard at all. There was generally a -secret simper upon his lips intended to be courteous, but that simper, -like an exchequer bill, was very easily convertible, and a poor -client, an inferior solicitor on the opposite side, or an unready -debtor, soon found that it would be changed into heavy frowns or -sarcastic grins.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wharton was very proper and accurate in his dress. His coat was -always black,--even when he went out to hunt, which was not a rare -occurrence, he never sported the red jacket. In riding, he would -occasionally indulge in leather, elsewhere than from the knee -downwards; but the habiliment of the lower man was, upon all ordinary -occasions, a pair of dark gray pantaloons. He was now so habited in -his study, as he called the room behind that where seven clerks were -seated, for the business he was engaged in was one in the ordinary -course, though of extraordinary interest to Mr. Wharton. It was, in -short, the consummation of plucking a poor bird which had been -entrapped long before. Now it was not intended to leave him a feather, -and yet Mr. Wharton was inclined to do the thing as decorously as -possible. By decorously I do not mean tenderly--such an unnecessary -delicacy never entered into Mr. Wharton's head. The decorum that he -thought of was merely <i>the seeming in the world's eyes</i>, as a great -deal of other decorum is, both male and female. He was about to be as -hard, as relentless, as iron-hearted as a cannon-ball, but all with -infinite professions of kindness and good feeling, and sorrow for the -painful necessity, &c. &c. &c., for Mr. Wharton followed Dr. -Kitchener's barbarous recipe for devouring oysters, and "tickled his -little favourites before he ate them."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lawyer was standing at a table with some papers before him--not -too many--for he was not like those bankrupt attorneys of the capital -who fill their rooms with brown tin cases, marked in large white -letters "House of Lords," he preferred as little show of business as -possible. His object now-a-days was not to get practice, but to make -money. Practice enough he had; too much for the common weal.</p> - -<p class="normal">A clerk--a sort of private secretary indeed--was sitting at the other -end of the table, and the two had discussed one or two less important -affairs, affecting a few hundred pounds, when Mr. Wharton at length -observed, "I think to-morrow is the last day with Sir John Slingsby, -Mr. Pilkington, is it not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He knew quite well that it was; but, it would seem, he wished to hear -his clerk's opinion upon the subject.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, Sir," answered Mr. Pilkington, "I don't see a chance for him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nor I either," answered Mr. Wharton; "I am afraid he is quite run -out, poor man. The six months' notice of fore-closure was all right, -and the interest now amounts to a large sum."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A very large sum indeed, Sir, with the costs," answered Mr. -Pilkington; "you don't think, Sir, he'll attempt to revise the costs -or haggle about the interest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He can't, Mr. Pilkington," replied Mr. Wharton, drily, "the costs are -all secured by bond and accounts passed, and it was a client of mine -who advanced him the money at seven-and-a-half to pay the interest -every six months on my mortgage. I had nothing to do with the -transaction."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Pilkington smiled, and Mr. Wharton proceeded.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why you know quite well, Pilkington, that it was Dyer who advanced -the money, and his bankruptcy brought the bonds into my hands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought there was only one bond, Sir," answered Mr. Pilkington; -"you told me to have a fresh bond every six months for the running -interest and the arrears, and the interest upon former advances, to -guard against loss."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wharton now smiled and nodded his head, saying, for he was vain of -his shrewdness, and vanity is a weak passion, "True, true, Pilkington, -but last half-year I saw that things were coming to a close, and -therefore thought it better to have two bonds. It looks more regular, -though the other is the most convenient mode."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And besides it secures the interest on the last half-year's -interest," said Pilkington; but to this observation Mr. Wharton made -no reply, turning to another part of the same subject.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Just bid Raymond to step down to Mr. Wittingham's," said the lawyer, -"and tell him with my compliments I should be glad to speak with him -for a minute. I must give him a hint of what is going on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Sir," said Mr. Pilkington, hesitating "you know he has a bond -too, out on the same day, and he'll be sure to go before you, having -also a bill of sale."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know, I know," answered Mr. Wharton, "but I should like him to be -the first, Pilkington."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will there be enough to cover all?" asked the clerk, doubtfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ample," answered his great man; "besides, the whole sum coming -thundering down at once will ensure that no one will be fool enough to -help. I have heard, indeed, something about a friend who would advance -money to pay Wittingham's bond. Let him!--all the better, that cannot -supersede my debt. Wittingham will get his money, and Sir John won't -easily find much more on any security he has to offer. Besides, when -some one begins, it gives the very best reason for others going on, -and Wittingham won't be slow, depend upon it. Tell Mr. Raymond to -fetch him."</p> - -<p class="normal">The clerk retired, not venturing to urge any more objections; but when -he returned again, Mr. Wharton himself continued the conversation -thus,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wittingham is a curious person to deal with; one does not always know -what can be his objects."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wharton had always an object himself, and, therefore, he fancied -that no man could act without one. He never took the impulse of -passion, or the misdirection of folly, or the pigheadedness of -obstinacy into account. However, with Mr. Wittingham he was in some -degree right, as to his generally having an object; but he was in some -degree wrong also, for all the other causes of human wrong-going, -passion, folly, and pigheadedness, had their share in the modes, -methods, and contrivances by which the worthy magistrate sought his -ends.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, what can be the meaning," continued Mr. Wharton, "of his -opposing so strongly all steps against this Mr. Beauchamp and that -Captain Hayward, who were engaged in the duel with his son?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They say he had quarrelled with Harry Wittingham and disinherited -him," replied the clerk; "and old Mrs. Billiter, the housekeeper, is -quite furious about it. She declares that it is all old Wittingham's -fault; that if it had not been for him, nothing of the kind would have -happened; and that he murdered the young man. I do not know what it -all means; but they say she will nurse Harry Wittingham through it -after all."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wharton mused for a minute or two, and then said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do not mean, he is out of danger?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh dear, no, Sir," answered Mr. Pilkington, who perceived a slightly -dissatisfied twang in his superior's question; "Mr. Slattery, the -surgeon, said he might sink at anytime for the next ten days."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph," said Mr. Wharton, "that is all right. It will keep the others -out of the way for some time to come; and a very good thing, too, for -Mr. Beauchamp himself. He it is who is treating for the Moreton Hall -estate; there is a little hitch in the business, which will be soon -removed; but he seems to me just the sort of man who would take Sir -John Slingsby's mortgage as an investment, as soon as the other. At -all events, he might create difficulties in a business which had -better be settled as soon as possible for all parties, and might burn -his own fingers, poor man, into the bargain. You had the bills posted -up, Pilkington?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes, Sir," replied the clerk, "for twenty miles round, offering a -reward. There is no fear, Sir. They are safe enough--most likely in -France by this time."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wharton seemed satisfied; and, after a few minutes, worthy Mr. -Wittingham entered the office, and was thence ushered into the study; -but, alas! it was no longer the Mr. Wittingham of former days. The -somewhat fresh complexion; the stiff, consequential carriage; the -vulgar swagger, were all gone; and Mr. Wittingham looked a very sick -old gentleman, indeed; weak in the knees, bent in the back, and sallow -in the face. The wig was ill-adjusted, the Melton coat a world too -wide; you could have put a finger between the knee-bands of the -breeches and the stockings; and the top-boots slipped down almost to -the ancles. It was marvellous how one who had been so tall and thin -before, could have become, to the eye, so much taller and thinner. The -great Prince of Parma, wrote despatches, reviewed troops, and -conducted a negotiation, within one hour before a long and lingering -malady terminated in death. He knew he was dying, and yet went through -all his ordinary business, as if he had only to dress and go out to a -party instead of into his grave. This was a wonderful instance of the -persistence of character under bodily infirmity, or rather of its -triumph over corporeal decay. But that of Mr. Wittingham was more -remarkable. The external Wittingham was wofully changed: his oldest -friend would not have known him; but the internal Wittingham was still -the same; there was not a tittle of difference. He was not in the -least softened, he was not in the least brightened: his was one of -those granite natures, hard to cut, and impossible to polish. Although -he had very little of the diamond in him, yet, as the diamond can only -be shaped by the powder of the diamond, nothing but Wittingham could -touch Wittingham. His own selfishness was the only means by which he -was accessible.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Mr. Wharton," he said, "you sent for me; what is in the wind now? -Not about these two young men any more, I trust. That account is -closed. I will have nothing to do with it. Henry Wittingham called out -this Captain Hayward; Captain Hayward was fool enough to go out with -Henry Wittingham. They each had a shot, and the balance struck was a -pistol-ball against Henry Wittingham. Perhaps, if all the items had -been reckoned, the account might have been heavier, but I am not going -to open the books again, I should not find any thing to the credit of -my son, depend upon it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no, my good friend," said Mr. Wharton, in the most amiable tone -possible; "I knew the subject was disagreeable to you, and therefore -never returned to the business again. The other magistrates did what -they thought their duty required, in offering a reward, &c., but as -you had a delicacy in meddling where your son was concerned, the -matter was not pressed upon you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Delicacy! fiddlesticks' ends!" retorted Mr. Wittingham. "I never had -a delicacy in my life!--I did not choose! That is the proper word. But -if it was not about this, why did you send for me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, my dear Sir," said Mr. Wharton, "I thought it due in honour to -give you a hint--as I know you are a large creditor of Sir John -Slingsby--that matters are not going altogether well there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have known that these six years," answered the magistrate; "honour, -indeed! You have a great deal to do with honour, and delicacy, and all -that; but I am a man of business, and look to things as matters of -business. Speak more plainly, Wharton, what is there going worse than -usual at the Park? Does he want to borrow more money?</p> - -<p class="normal">"He did a fortnight ago, and could not get it," replied Mr. Wharton, -drily; for the most impudent rogue in the world does not like to feel -himself thoroughly understood. "But the short and the long of the -matter is this, my good Sir:--Sir John can go on no longer. Six -months' notice of fore-closure is out tomorrow; other steps must be -taken immediately; large arrears of interest are due; two or three -bonds with judgment are hanging over our poor friend; and you had -better look after yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, there is time enough yet," said Mr. Wittingham, in a much -less business-like tone than Mr. Wharton expected; "the preliminaries -of the law are somewhat lengthy, Mr. Wharton? <i>fi-fas</i> and <i>ca-sas</i> -take some time; and I will think of the matter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As you please, my good friend," answered Wharton; "only just let me -hint, that all the preliminaries have been already gone through. An -execution will be put in early to-morrow; there are a good many -creditors, and there may be a sort of scramble, as the school-boys -have it, where the quickest runner gets the biggest nut. I thought it -but kind and fair to tell you, as a neighbour and a friend, especially -as your debt is no trifle, I think."</p> - -<p class="normal">"An execution early to-morrow!" exclaimed Mr. Wittingham; "won't the -estate pay all?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"About two-thirds, I imagine," said Wharton, telling, as was his wont, -a great lie with the coolest face possible.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And what will Sir John do?" said the magistrate, "and poor Miss -Slingsby?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am afraid we must touch Sir John's person," replied the lawyer, -with a sneer; "and as to poor Miss Slingsby, I see nothing for it, but -that she should go out as a governess. But do not let us talk -nonsense, Wittingham. You are a man of sense and of business. I have -given you a caution, and you will act upon it. That is all I have to -do with the matter."</p> - -<p class="normal">To Mr. Wharton's surprise, however, he did not find Mr. Wittingham so -ready to act in the way he hinted as had been anticipated. The old -gentleman hesitated, and doubted, and seemed so uneasy that the -solicitor began to fear he had mistaken his character totally, to -apprehend that, after all, he might be a kind-hearted, benevolent old -gentleman. The reader, however, who has duly remarked the conversation -between the magistrate on his sick-bed, and worthy Dr. Miles, may, -perhaps, perceive other causes for Mr. Wittingham's hesitation. He had -found that Sir John Slingsby possessed a secret which might hang his -son. Now, although I do not mean at all to say that Mr. Wittingham -wished his son to die, in any way, or that he would not have been -somewhat sorry for his death, by any means, yet he would have much -preferred that the means were not those of strangulation. To have his -son hanged, would be to have his own consideration hanged. In short, -he did not at all wish to be the father of a man who had been hanged; -and consequently he was somewhat afraid of driving Sir John Slingsby -into a corner. But each man, as Pope well knew, has some ruling -passion, which is strong even in death. Sir John Slingsby owed Mr. -Wittingham five thousand pounds; and Mr. Wittingham could not forget -that fact. As he thought of it, it increased, swelled out, grew heavy, -like a nightmare. To lose five thousand pounds at one blow! What was -any other consideration to that? What was the whole Newgate-calendar, -arranged as a genealogical tree and appended to his name either as -ancestry or posterity? Nothing, nothing! Dust in the balance! A -feather in an air-pump! Mr. Wittingham grew exceedingly civil to his -kind friend, Mr. Wharton; he compassionated poor Sir John Slingsby -very much; he was sorry for Miss Slingsby; but he did not in the least -see why, when other people were about to help themselves, he should -not have his just right. He chatted over the matter with Mr. Wharton, -and obtained an opinion from him, without a fee, as to the best mode -of proceeding--and Mr. Wharton's opinions on such points were very -sound; but in this case particularly careful. Then Mr. Wittingham went -home, sent for his worthy solicitor, Mr. Bacon, whom he had employed -for many years, as cheaper and safer than Mr. Wharton, and gave him -instructions, which set the poor little attorney's hair on end.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Bacon knew Mr. Wittingham, however; he had been accustomed to -manage him at petty sessions; and he was well aware that it was -necessary to set Mr. Wittingham in opposition to Mr. Wittingham, -before he could hope that any one's opinion would be listened to. When -those two respectable persons had a dispute together, there was some -chance of a third being attended to who stepped in as an umpire.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, in the present case, Mr. Bacon was mistaken. He did not say one -word of the pity, and the shame, and the disgrace of taking Sir John -Slingsby quite by surprise; but he started various legal difficulties, -and, indeed, some formidable obstacles to the very summary proceedings -which Mr. Wittingham contemplated. But that gentleman was as a gun -loaded with excellent powder and well-crammed down shot, by Mr. -Wharton; and the priming was dry and fresh. Mr. Bacon's difficulties -were swept away in a moment; his obstacles leaped over; and the -solicitor was astonished at the amount of technical knowledge which -his client had obtained in a few hours.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was nothing to be done but obey. Mr. Wittingham was too good a -card to throw out: Sir John Slingsby was evidently ruined beyond -redemption; and with a sorrowful heart--for Mr. Bacon was, at bottom, -a kind and well-disposed man--he took his way to his office with -his eyes roaming from one side of the street to the other, as if he -were looking for some means of escaping from a disagreeable task. -As they thus roamed, they fell upon Billy Lamb, the little deformed -pot-boy. The lawyer eyed him for a minute or so as he walked along, -compared him in imagination with one of his own clerks, a tall, -handsome-looking fellow, with a simpering face; thought that Billy -would do best, though he was much more like a wet capon, than a human -being, and beckoning the boy into his office, retired with him into an -inner room, where Mr. Bacon proceeded so cautiously and diffidently, -that, had not Billy Lamb's wits been as sharp as his face, he would -have been puzzled to know what the solicitor wanted him to do.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXVII</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was a dark, cold, cheerless night, though the season was summer, -and the preceding week had been very warm--one of those nights when a -cold cutting north-east wind has suddenly broken through the sweet -dream of bright days, and checked the blood in the trees and plants, -withering them with the presage of winter. From noon till eventide -that wind had blown; and although it had died away towards night, it -had left the sky dark and the air chilly. Not a star was to be seen in -the expanse above; and, though the moon was up, yet the light she gave -only served to show that heavy clouds were floating over the heavens, -the rounded edges of the vapours becoming every now and then of a dim -white, without the face of the bright orb ever being visible for a -moment. A dull, damp moist hung about the ground, and there was a -faint smell, not altogether unpleasant, but sickly and oppressive, -rose up, resembling that which is given forth by some kinds of -water-plants, and burdened the cold air.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the little churchyard, at the back of Stephen Gimlet's -cottage, there was a light burning, though ten o'clock had struck -some quarter of an hour before; and an elderly man, dressed, -notwithstanding the chilliness of the night, merely in a waistcoat -with striped sleeves, might have been seen by that light, which was -nested in a horse-lantern, and perched upon a fresh-turned heap of -earth. His head and shoulders were above the ground, and part of -his rounded back, with ever and anon the rise and fall of a heavy -pickaxe, appeared amongst the nettles and long hemlocks which overrun -the churchyard. His legs and feet were buried in a pit which he was -digging, and busily the sexton laboured away to hollow out the grave, -muttering to himself from time to time, and sometimes even singing at -his gloomy work. He was an old man, but he had no one to help him, and -in truth he needed it not, for he was hale and hearty, and he put such -a good will to his task, that it went on rapidly. The digging of a -grave was to him a sort of festival. He held brotherhood with the -worm, and gladly prepared the board for his kindred's banquet.</p> - -<p class="normal">The grave-digger had gone on for some time when, about the hour I have -mentioned, some one paused at the side of the low mossy wall, about a -hundred yards from the cottage of the new gamekeeper, and looked over -towards the lantern. Whoever the visitor was, he seemed either to -hesitate or to consider, for he remained with his arms leaning on the -coping for full five minutes before he opened the little wooden-gate -close by, and walking in, went up to the side of the grave. The sexton -heard him well enough, but I never saw a sexton who was not a -humorist, and he took not the least notice, working away as before.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, what are you about, old gentleman?" said a man's voice, at -length.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Don't you see?" rejoined the sexton, looking up, "practising the -oldest trade in the world but one--digging to be sure--aye, and -grave-digging, too, which is a very ancient profession likewise, -though when first it began men lived so long, the sextons must have -been but poor craftsmen for want of practice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And whose grave is it you are digging?" asked the visitor. "I have -been here some days, and have not heard of any deaths."</p> - -<p class="normal">"One would think you were a doctor," answered the sexton, "for -you seem to fancy that you must have a hand in every death in the -parish--but you want to know whose grave it is--well, I can't tell -you, for I don't know myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But who ordered you to dig it then?" demanded the stranger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No one," said the sexton; "it will fit somebody, I warrant, and I -shall get paid for it; and why should not I keep a ready made grave as -a town cobbler keeps ready-made shoes? I am digging it out of my own -fancy. There will be death somewhere before the week is out, I am -sure; for I dreamed last night that I saw a wedding come to this -church, and the bride and the bridegroom stepped on each of the grave -hillocks as they walked--so there will be a death, that's certain, and -may be two."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so you are digging the grave on speculation, old fellow?" -exclaimed the other, "but I dare say you have a shrewd guess whom it -is for. There is some poor fellow ill in the neighbourhood--or some -woman in a bad way, ha?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may be for the young man lying wounded up at Buxton's inn," -answered the sexton; "they say he is better; but I should not wonder -if it served his turn after all. But I don't know, there is never any -telling who may go next. I've seen funny things in my day. Those who -thought they had a long lease, find it was a short one: those who were -wishing for other people's death, that they might get their money, die -first themselves."</p> - -<p class="normal">The sexton paused, and the stranger did not make any answer, looking -gloomily down into the pit as if he did not much like the last -reflections that rose up from the bottom of the grave.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Aye, funny things enough I have seen," continued the sexton, after -giving a stroke or two with his pickaxe; "but the funniest of all is, -to see how folks take on at first for those who are gone, and how soon -they get over it. Lord, what a lot of tears I have seen shed on this -little bit of ground! and how soon they were dried up, like a shower -in the sunshine. I recollect now there was a young lady sent down here -for change of air by the London doctors, after they had poisoned her -with their stuff, I dare say. A pretty creature she was as ever I set -eyes on, and did not seem ill, only a bit of a cough. Her mother came -with her, and then her lover, who was to be married to her when she -got well. But at six months' end she died--there she lies, close on -your left--and her lover, wasn't he terrible downcast? and he said to -me when we had put her comfortably in the ground, 'I shan't be long -after her, sexton; keep me that place beside her--there's a guinea for -you.' He did not come back, however, for five years, and then I saw -him one day go along the road in a chaise and four, with a fine lady -by his side, as gay as a lark."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, you would not have the man go on whimpering all his life?" said -the other; "how old are you, sexton?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sixty and eight last January," answered the other, "and I have dug -these graves forty years come St. John."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you many old men in the parish?" asked the stranger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The oldest is eighty-two," replied the sexton, "and she is a woman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Six from eighty-two," said the stranger in a contemplative tone, -"that leaves seventy-six. That will do very well."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will it?" said the sexton, "well, you know best; but I should like to -see a bit more of your face," and as he spoke, the old man suddenly -raised his lantern towards the stranger, and then burst out into a -laugh, "ay, I thought I knew the voice!" he said, "and so you've come -back again, captain? Well now, this is droll enough! That bone you've -got your foot upon belongs to your old wet-nurse, Sally Loames, if I -know this ground; and she had as great a hand in damaging you as any -of the rest. She was a bad one! But what has brought you down now that -all the money's gone and the property too?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, I'll tell you," answered Captain Moreton, "I'll tell you, my -good old Grindley. I want to see into the vault where the coffins are, -and just to have a look at the register. Can't you help me? you used -always to have the keys."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, captain," rejoined the sexton, shaking his head, "no tricks! -no tricks! I'm not going to put my head into a noose for nothing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nobody wants you to put your head in a noose, Grindley," answered the -other, "all I want is just to take a look at the coffins for a minute, -and another at the register, for I have had a hint that I have been -terribly cheated, and that people have put my great-grandfather's -death six years too early, which makes all the difference to me; for -if my mother was born while he was living she could not break the -entail, do you see?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then," said the sexton, "you can come to-morrow, captain; and -I'll tell the doctor any hour you like."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That won't do, Grindley," replied Moreton, "the parson is with the -enemy; and, besides, I must not let any body know that I have seen the -register and the coffins till I have every thing prepared to upset -their roguery. You would not have me lose my own, would you, old boy? -Then as to your doing it for nothing, if you will swear not to tell -that I have seen the things at all, till I am ready and give you -leave, you shall have a ten-pound note."</p> - -<p class="normal">It is a strange and terrible thing, that the value of that which has -no value except as it affects us in this world and this life, -increases enormously in our eyes as we are leaving it. The sexton had -always been more or less a covetous man, as Captain Moreton well knew; -but the passion had increased upon him with years, and the bait of the -ten-pound note was not to be resisted. He took up the lantern, he -got out of the grave, and looked carefully round. It was late at -night--all was quiet--nothing seemed stirring; and approaching close -to Moreton's side, he said in a whisper,</p> - -<p class="normal">"No one knows that you were coming here, eh, captain?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nobody in the world," replied the other, "I called at your house an -hour ago, and the girl told me you were down here, but I said I would -call on you again to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you only want to look at the coffins and the book?" continued the -sexton.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing else in the world," said Moreton, in an easy tone; "perhaps I -may take a memorandum in my pocket-book, that's all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, give us the note and come along," replied the sexton, -"there can be no harm in that."</p> - -<p class="normal">Moreton slipped something into his hand, and they moved towards a -little door in the side of the church, opposite to that on which stood -the cottage of Stephen Gimlet. Here the sexton drew a large bunch of -keys out of his pocket and opened the door, holding up the lantern to -let his companion see the way in.</p> - -<p class="normal">Moreton whistled a bit of an opera air, but the old man put his hand -on his arm, saying in a low tone, "Hush! hush! what's the use of such -noise?" and leading the way to the opposite comer, he chose one of the -smallest of the keys on his bunch, and stooped down, kneeling on one -knee by the side of a large stone in the pavement, marked with a cross -and a star, and having a keyhole in it covered with a brass plate made -to play in the stone. The old man put in the key and turned it, but -when he attempted to lift the slab it resisted.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, you must get it up for yourself," he said, rising, "I can't; -take hold of the key, and with your young arm you'll soon get it up, I -dare say."</p> - -<p class="normal">Moreton did as the other directed, and raised the slab without -difficulty. When he had done, he quietly put the keys in his pocket, -saying, "Give me the lantern!"</p> - -<p class="normal">But Mr. Grindley did not like the keys being in Captain Moreton's -pocket, and though he did not think it worth while to make a piece of -work about it, yet he kept the lantern and went down first. A damp, -close smell met them on the flight of narrow stone steps, which the -old lords of the manor had built down into their place of long repose; -and the air was so dark that it seemed as if the blackness of all the -many long nights which had passed since the vault was last opened had -accumulated and thickened there.</p> - -<p class="normal">For some moments, the faint light of the lantern had no effect upon -the solid gloom; but, as soon as it began to melt, the old man walked -on, saying, "This way, captain. I think it used to stand hereabouts, -upon the tressles to the right. That is your father's to the left, and -then there's your mother's; and next there's your little sister, who -died when she was a baby, all lying snug together. The Moretons, that -is the old Moretons, are over here. Here's your grandfather--a jolly -old dog, I recollect him well, with his large stomach and his purple -face--and then his lady--I did not know her--and then two or three -youngsters. You see, young and old, they all come here one time or -another. This should be your great grandfather," and he held up the -lantern to the top of one of the coffins. "No," he said, after a brief -examination, "that is the colonel who was killed in '45. Why they put -him here I don't know, for he died long before your great grandfather. -But here the old gentleman is. He lived to a great age, I know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me see," said Captain Moreton; and approaching the side of the -coffin he made the old man hold the lantern close to the plate upon -the top. The greater part of the light was shed upon the coffin lid, -though some rays stole upwards and cast a sickly glare upon the two -faces that hung over the last resting-place of the old baronet. -Captain Moreton put his hand in his pocket, at the same time pointing -with the other to a brass plate, gilt, which bore a short inscription -upon it, somewhat obscure from dust and verdigris.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There! it is quite plain," he said, "1766!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The old sexton had been fumbling for a pair of spectacles, and now he -mounted them on his nose and looked closer, saying, "No, captain, -1760."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nonsense!" said the other, sharply, "it is the dust covers the tail -of the six. I'll show you in a minute;" and as quick as light he drew -the other hand from his pocket, armed with a sharp steel instrument of -a very peculiar shape. It was like a stamp for cutting pastry, only -much smaller, with the sharp edge formed like a broken sickle. Before -the old man could see what he was about to do, he pressed his hand, -and the instrument it contained, tight upon the plate, gave it a -slight turn and withdrew it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord 'a mercy! what have you done?" exclaimed the sexton.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing, but taken off the dust," answered Moreton with a laugh; -"look at it now! Is it not 66 plain enough?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that it is," said Grindley. "But this won't do, captain, this -won't do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By ---- it shall do," replied the other, fiercely; "and if you say -one word, you will not only lose the money but get hanged into the -bargain; for the moment I hear you've 'peached I'll make a full -confession, and say you put me up to the trick. So now my old boy you -are in for it, and had better go through with it like a man. If we -both hold our tongues nothing can happen. We slip out together and no -one knows a syllable; but, if we are fools, and chatter, and don't -help each other, we shall both get into an infernal scrape. You will -suffer most, however, I'll take care of that. Then, on the contrary, -if I get back what they have cheated me and my father out of, you -shall have 100<i>l</i>. for your pains."</p> - -<p class="normal">At first the sexton was inclined to exclaim and protest, but Captain -Moreton went on so long that he had time to reflect--and, being a man -of quick perceptions, to make up his mind. At first, too, he looked -angrily in his companion's face through his spectacles, holding up the -lantern to see him well; but gradually be dropped the light and his -eyes together to the coffin-lid, examined it thoughtfully, and in the -end said, in alow, quiet, significant voice, "I think, captain, the -tail of that six looks somewhat bright and sharp considering how old -it is."</p> - -<p class="normal">The compact was signed and sealed by those words; and Moreton replied, -"I've thought of all that, old gentleman. It shall be as green as the -rest by to-morrow morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he took out a small vial of a white liquid, dropped a few -drops on the plate, and rubbed them into the deep mark he had made. -Then, turning gaily to his companion, he exclaimed "Now for the -register."</p> - -<p class="normal">Grindley made no reply; and they walked up into the church again, put -down the slab of stone, locked it, and advanced towards the vestry. -There, however, the old man paused at the door, saying, in a low, -shaking voice, "I can't, captain! I can't! It is forgery, nothing -else. I'll stay here, you go and do what you like, you've the keys."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where are the books kept?" asked the other, speaking low.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the great chest," said the sexton, "it must be the second book -from the top."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can I find pen and ink?" inquired Moreton.</p> - -<p class="normal">"On the table, on the table," answered Grindley. "Mathew Lomax had a -child christened two days ago. But it wont never look like the old -ink."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never you fear," said the other worthy, "I am provided;" and taking -the lantern, he opened the vestry-door and went in.</p> - -<p class="normal">Captain Moreton set down the lantern on a little table covered with -green cloth, and proceeded about his work quietly and deliberately. He -was no new offender, though this was a new offence. He had none of the -young timidity of incipient crime about him. He had done a great many -unpleasant things on great inducements, pigeoned confiding friends, -made friendships for the sake of pigeoning, robbed Begums, as was the -custom in those days, shot two or three intimate acquaintances who did -not like being wronged, and was, moreover, a man of a hardy -constitution, so that his nerves were strong and unshaken. He tried -two or three keys before he found the one which fitted the lock of the -chest. He took out two volumes of registers, and examined the -contents, soon found the passage he was looking for, and then searched -for the pen and ink, which, after all, were not upon the table. Then -he tried the pen upon his thumb-nail, and took out his little bottle -again, for it would seem that within that vial was some fluid which -had a double operation, namely, that of corroding brass and rendering -ink pallid. The register was laid open before him, a stool drawn to -the table, his hand pressed tight upon the important page, and the pen -between his fingers and thumb to keep all steady in the process of -converting 1760 into 1766, when an unfortunate fact struck him, -namely, that there were a great many insertions between the two -periods. He paused to consider how this was to be overcome, when -suddenly he heard an exclamation from without, and the sound of -running steps in the church, as if some one was scampering away -in great haste. He had forgotten--it was the only thing he had -forgotten--to turn his face to the door, and he was in the act of -attempting to remedy this piece of neglect, by twisting his head over -his shoulder, when he received a blow upon the cheek which knocked him -off his stool, and stretched him on the pavement of the vestry. He -started up instantly, but before he could see any thing or any body, -the lantern was knocked over, and the door of the vestry shut and -bolted, leaving him a prisoner in the dark.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Tarningham Park was exceedingly quiet; for Sir John Slingsby was out -at dinner some five miles off, and his merry activity being removed, -every living thing seemed to think itself entitled to take some -repose. Mrs. Clifford, who had been far from well for several days, -and had not quitted her room during the whole morning, had gone to -bed, Mary and Isabella were conversing quietly--perhaps sadly--in the -drawing-room, the butler snored in the pantry, the ladies' maids and -footmen were enjoying a temporary calm in their several spheres, and -cook, scullions, and housemaids were all taxing their energies to do -nothing with the most meritorious perseverance. Even the hares hopped -more deliberately upon the lawns, and the cock-pheasants strutted with -more tranquil grandeur. Every one seemed to know that Sir John -Slingsby was absent, and that there was no need to laugh, or talk, or -dance, or sing, or eat, or drink, more than was agreeable. The very -air seemed to participate in the general feeling, for, whereas it had -been somewhat boisterous and keen during the day, it sunk into a calm, -heavy, chilly sleep towards night, and the leaves rested motionless -upon the trees, as if weary of battling with the wind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will have a fire, Mary," said Isabella; "though it be summer in -the calendar, it is winter in the field, and I do not see why we -should regulate our comfort by the almanac. Papa will not be home till -twelve, and though he will be warm enough, I dare say, that will do -nothing for us."</p> - -<p class="normal">As she spoke she rose to ring the bell; but at the same moment another -bell rang, being that of the chief entrance, and both Miss Slingsby -and her cousin looked aghast at the idea of a visitor. Some time -elapsed before their apprehensions were either confirmed or removed; -for there was a good deal of talking at the glass-door; but at first -the servant did not choose to come in with any explanation. At length, -however, a footman appeared in very white stockings and laced -knee-bands, saying, with a grin, "If you please, Ma'am, there is little -Billy Lamb at the door wishes to see you. He asked for Sir John first. -I told him he couldn't, for you were engaged; but he said he was sure -you would, and teased me just to tell you he was here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Billy Lamb!" said Isabella. "Who is that?--Oh, I remember: is not -that the poor boy at the White Hart?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, Ma'am," replied the footman, "the little humpback that you gave -half-a-crown to one day when he was whistling so beautiful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I will see him, of course," said Isabella, much to the footman's -amazement, who could not see the 'of course;' "I will come out and -speak with him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have him brought in here, Bella," said Mary, "I know the poor boy -well, and his mother, too. The daughter is dead; she married badly, I -believe, and died two or three years ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bring him in," said Miss Slingsby to the servant, and the man retired -to fulfil her commands. As Billy Lamb entered the room the two fair -girls, both so beautiful yet so unlike each other, advanced towards -the door to meet him; and stood before the poor deformed boy leaning -slightly towards each other, with their arms linked together. The boy -remained near the entrance, and the footman held the door open behind -him till Miss Slingsby nodded her head as an intimation that his -presence was not required.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, William," said Isabella, as the man departed, "how are you, and -what is it you want?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And your poor mother, William," said Mary Clifford, "I have not seen -her a long while, how is she?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is much better, thank you, Ma'am," replied the boy. "She is -reconciled with Stephen, now, and has gone to be with him up in the -cottage, and take care of his little boy, my poor sister's orphan, and -so she is much better." Then turning to Isabella, he went on--"I am -quite well, thank you, Miss; but somehow my heart is very down just -now, for I came up to tell Sir John something very terrible and very -bad."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it magistrate's business, William? or can I give you any help?" -asked Isabella.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh dear no, Miss Slingsby," replied the boy, "it is not about myself -at all, but about Sir John;" and he looked up in her face with his -clear, bright, intelligent eyes, as if beseeching her to understand -him without forcing him to further explanations.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Isabella did not understand him at all; and she inquired--"What do -you mean, my good lad? I am sure my father will be glad to do any -thing he can for you; and I do not think that you would yourself do -any thing very terrible and very bad, such as you speak of."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush, Isabella," said her cousin, whose heart was a more apprehensive -one than her cousin's, and who had some glimmering of dangers or -sorrows hidden under the boy's obscure words: "Let him explain -himself. Tell us, William, exactly what you mean. If wrong has been -done you, we will try to make it right; but you spoke of my uncle: has -any thing happened to Sir John?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Miss Mary," replied Billy Lamb, "but I fear evil may happen to -him if something is not done to stop it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But of what kind?" asked Isabella, anxiously: "tell us all about it. -What is it you fear? Where did you get your information?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"From Mr. Bacon," answered the boy, simply, "the little lawyer at -Tarningham, Ma'am. He's not a bad man, nor an unkind man either, like -Mr. Wharton; and, though he did not just bid me come up and tell Sir -John, yet he said he very much wished he knew what was going to -happen. Then he said he could not write about it, for it was no -business of his, as he was but acting for others, and he did not like -to send a message because--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what is it?" exclaimed Mary Clifford and Isabella together. "In -pity's name, my good boy, do not keep us in suspense."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Ma'am, he said," continued the boy, in a sad tone, and casting -down his eyes, "that to-morrow there would be an execution put in -here--that means that they will seize every thing. I know that, for -they did so six months after my father died. Then he said that very -likely Sir John would be arrested, unless he could pay five thousand -pounds down at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella sunk down in a chair overwhelmed, exclaiming, "Good Heaven!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is what Captain Hayward told us of!" said Mary Clifford, putting -her hand to her brow, and speaking rather to herself than to her -cousin. "How unfortunate that he should be absent now. This duel, -depend upon it, has prevented him from taking the means he proposed -for averting this blow. I feel sure he could and would have done so as -he promised."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, whatever Ned Hayward promised he was able to perform," answered -Isabella, "nothing but some unfortunate circumstance, such as this -duel, has prevented him. He is as true and open as the day, Mary. What -would I not give for but five minutes' conversation with him now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would you? Would you?" said the musical voice of the poor boy. "I -think if you want them, you can have them very soon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, you dear good boy!" cried Isabella, starting up, "send him here -directly, if you know where he is. Tell him that my father's safety -depends entirely upon him: tell him we are ruined if he does not -come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not think I can send him," said the boy in a disappointed tone. -"I don't think he can come: but if you like to go and see him, I will -venture to take you where he is; for I am sure you would not do him a -great injury, and say any thing of where he is hid."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go to him?" exclaimed Isabella; "why, it is growing quite dark, my -good William. How can I go? But this is folly and weakness," she -exclaimed the next moment, "when my father's liberty and character are -at stake, shall I hesitate to go any where. I will go, William. Where -is it? Is it far?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, dear Isabella," said her cousin, "if needful, I will go with -you. This is a case which I think may justify what would be otherwise -improper. But let me ask one or two questions. You say Mr. Bacon told -you this, William. If he wished my uncle to know the facts, why did he -not send one of his clerks?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why he said, Miss Mary, that he had no right," answered the boy, "he -seemed in a great flurry, and as if he did not well know what to do; -but he asked if I had seen Sir John in town; for he generally comes to -the White Hart, you know; and told me to let him know if I chanced to -meet with him in town, because he wanted to speak with him -exceedingly. And then he went on that he did not know that he ought to -tell him either; for he had got an execution to take to-morrow, here, -and to have a writ against him the first thing to-morrow, and a great -deal more that I forget. But he said he was very sorry, and would -almost give one of his hands not to have it to do. At last he said I -was not to tell any body in the town what he had said, but that I -might tell Sir John if I saw him, so I came away here, Miss, as soon -as I could."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But where is Captain Hayward to be found, then?" asked Miss Clifford. -"You must tell us that before we can make up our minds, William."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I may as well tell you as take you," replied the boy, "but I must go -on before to say you are coming. He is at Ste Gimlet's, with him and -my mother, and has been there ever since he shot Mr. Wittingham."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I shall not mind going there," cried Isabella, "it will not call -for observation from the servants, but if he had been at an inn, it -would have been terrible."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford smiled; for she was one of those who valued proprieties -<i>nearly</i> at their right worth, if not quite. She never violated them -rashly; for no pleasure, or amusement, or mere personal gratification -would she transgress rules which society had framed, even though she -might think them foolish; but with a great object, a good purpose, and -a clear heart, she was ready to set them at nought. "I will go very -willingly with you, dear Bella," she said. "Captain Hayward went to -London, I know, for the express purpose of providing the means of -averting this calamity; but, from some words which he let drop, I -fancy he believed that it was not likely to fall upon us so soon. -There is no way that I see of aiding your father but by seeing and -consulting with this old friend. You said all this would happen early -tomorrow, William?" she continued, turning again to the boy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As soon as it was light, Miss Mary," replied poor Billy Lamb.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, Heaven, I will order the carriage directly," said Isabella, "run -on, there's a good lad, and let Captain Hayward know I am coming. You -can tell him why, and all about it."</p> - -<p class="normal">The boy retired, and sped away by the shortest paths towards his -brother-in-law's cottage. In the mean while the carriage was ordered; -but Sir John had got the chariot with him; the barouche had not -been out for some time; and the coachman thought fit to dust it. -Three-quarters of an hour passed ere the lamps were lighted and all -was ready, and then a footman with gold-laced hat in hand stood by the -side of the vehicle, to hand the ladies in and accompany them. -Isabella, however, told him that he would not be wanted, and gave the -order to drive to Stephen Gimlet's cottage.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay!" said the footman, as he turned into the house again, "Billy -Lamb's mother is there. Now they'll do the young ladies out of a -guinea or two, I'll warrant. What fools women are, to be sure!"</p> - -<p class="normal">While he thus moralised, the carriage rolled slowly on in the dark -night, drawn by two tall pursey horses and driven by a coachman of the -same qualities, neither of whom at all approved of being unexpectedly -taken out at that hour of the night; for dinner parties were rare in -the neighbourhood of Tarningham Park, balls were rarer still, and Sir -John Slingsby was much fonder of seeing what he called a set of jolly -fellows at his own house than of going out to find them, so that none -of his horses were at all accustomed to trot by candlelight. Nearly -half an hour more elapsed before the carriage entered the quiet lane -unaccustomed to the sound of any wheels but those of a waggon, or a -taxed-cart, and at length the reins were drawn in at the door of the -cottage. The house looked unpromising; not a light was to be seen, -for, strange to say, window-shutters had been put up to every casement -of Stephen Gimlet's dwelling, though one would not have supposed him a -man addicted to such luxuries. The coachman felt his dignity hurt at -having to descend from the box and open the carriage-door, the -respectability of the whole family seemed to suffer in his eyes; but, -nevertheless, he did it, and as he did so the horses moved on two or -three yards, of which Isabella was glad, for she reflected that if the -coachman saw into the cottage, he might see the inmates also. Ere she -went in, she told him to drive back to the style some two hundred -yards down the lane, and if the boy Billy Lamb came over--it was his -way from Tarningham Park--to keep him with the carriage. Then, with -two hearts which it must be confessed fluttered sadly, Isabella and -Mary knocked at the cottage-door, and scarcely waiting for reply -opened it in haste and went in. Mary's heart fluttered at the thought -of seeing Ned Hayward, as well as at the feeling of taking a somewhat -unusual step; but Isabella's flutter was solely on the latter account -till the door was open, and then it became worse than ever on another -score.</p> - -<p class="normal">The first object she saw straight before her was Mr. Beauchamp, who -was standing in the midst of the little parlour of the cottage, -talking to the poor boy, Billy Lamb, while Mrs. Lamb and Stephen -Gimlet were placed near the wide cottage hearth.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment that Miss Slingsby's face appeared, Beauchamp turned from -the boy, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here are the ladies themselves. Now go home, my good boy; and if your -master is angry at your absence, tell him I will explain all to him. -My dear Miss Slingsby, I am delighted to see you and your fair cousin. -The boy says you wish to speak with Captain Hayward. He is in the room -above. I will tell him immediately;" and, after shaking hands with -both of the ladies, he turned away and went upstairs.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary whispered eagerly with Isabella; and Stephen Gimlet touched his -mother-in-law's arm, as he saw that there was evidently a good deal of -agitation in their fair visitors' manner, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, Goody, it wont give you cold, I dare say, to walk out for a bit -with me. They'll want to talk together," he added, in a low voice, -"and if it's cold we'll go into the little vestry of the church."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old woman looked towards the back-room, where the child was -sleeping; but Stephen answered her, ere she spoke, whispering,</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, we should hear it all there."</p> - -<p class="normal">Goody Lamb put her shawl over her head, while he took down the key of -the church; and Mary's eye catching their movements, she said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only for a few minutes, Mrs. Lamb. I should like to speak with you -when we have said a few words to Captain Hayward."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Lamb dropped a courtesy, and went out with her son-in-law; and -the next moment, a slow step was heard coming down the stairs.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good Heaven, you are ill, Captain Hayward," cried Isabella, as her -father's friend presented himself, followed by Beauchamp. Mary -Clifford said nothing, but she felt more.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I shall soon be well again, my dear Miss Slingsby," answered Ned -Hayward; "the ball is out, and I am recovering quite fast--only a -little weak."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hayward tells me I shall not be one too many," said Beauchamp; "but -if I am, Miss Slingsby, send me away, remembering, however, that you -may command me in any other way as well as that."</p> - -<p class="normal">What a difference there is between enterprise and execution! How the -difficulties grow upon us at every step of the mountain path, and how -faint the heart feels at the early obstacles which we had altogether -overlooked, Isabella Slingsby had thought it would be the easiest -thing in the world to enter upon the state of her father's affairs -with Ned Hayward. He was so old a friend; he had known her father -since he was himself sixteen years of age; he had himself given the -first warning, had opened the way. It had seemed to her, indeed, that -there would not be the slightest difficulty, that there could not be -any obstacle; but now, when she had to speak of all, her heart sank, -her courage failed her; and she strove to turn the conversation to any -other subject--only for a moment, till she recovered thought and -breath.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no! Do not go, Mr. Beauchamp," she said. "But how ill Captain -Hayward looks. We had no idea he had been wounded. They said that Mr. -Wittingham was the only sufferer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can assure you, it is nothing," replied Ned Hayward; "but you must -sit down, my dear young lady;" and with his left arm he put a seat for -Miss Slingsby, while Beauchamp did the same good office for Mary -Clifford. "I am sure that you have something important to say, and I -guess what it is," the young officer continued; "Miss Clifford, you -told your cousin a very painful communication I made to you ten or -twelve days ago. Is it not so? and she has come to speak upon that -subject?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did, Captain Hayward," answered Mary Clifford; "I told her all you -had said--and your generous and noble offer to assist Sir John in the -most pressing emergency. Her own knowledge confirmed in a great degree -the fact of great danger; but we feared that this unfortunate duel -might have interfered with your plans, and knew not where to find you, -or communicate with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did not forget what I had undertaken," answered Ned Hayward; "but -like a thoughtless fool, as I am, I forgot I might be wounded, Miss -Clifford, or that I might be forced to run for it. Well may the good -people call me thoughtless Ned Hayward; for I remembered that I might -be killed, and provided against it; but I did not recollect any thing -else, and ordered the money to be remitted to the bank here at -Tarningham. The ball went into my shoulder, however, and I have been -unable to write ever since; otherwise I would have sent the cheque -long ago, to be used whenever it was needed. I hope to be able to -write as well as ever in a few days; so put your mind quite at ease -upon that score. As for the mortgage, which is, I suppose, in train -for immediate fore-closure, we must think what can be done some other -way; for I am a poor man, as you know, and have not the means of -lending the amount;" and, as he spoke, he turned his eyes towards -Beauchamp.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward calculated that there would be plenty of time to make all -his arrangements; but such fancies were dissipated in a moment by -Isabella's reply:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did not the boy tell you," she asked, "that every thing you feared, -is to take place to-morrow? He came up to warn us. That good little -man, Bacon, the attorney, sent him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Isabella," said Mary Clifford, "he did not exactly send him; but -he told him the facts, evidently that they might reach my uncle's -ears; and the boy came up to tell us. I was sure, Captain Hayward," -she added, with a glowing cheek, "that you would do what you could to -aid, and that, if you could not aid, you would advise us how to act. -We therefore came on here, without hesitation; for no time is to be -lost, and Sir John is unfortunately out at dinner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very luckily, rather," said Ned Hayward. "No time, indeed, is to be -lost, if such be the state of things. I must write the cheque at once, -some way or another. There is a pen and ink in my little room, I will -go and get it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But can you write?" asked Mary, anxiously; "can you, without injury -to yourself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, stay, Hayward, stay," said Beauchamp; "you mentioned the subject -of the mortgage to me the other day. What is the amount, can you -tell?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"About fifty thousand pounds, and the devil himself knows how much -interest," answered Ned Hayward; "for I do not think Sir John has any -idea."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, then I fear you must write the cheque," said Beauchamp, gravely; -"for I must not diminish the amount in the bank; but I will get the -pen and ink. We are a sort of prisoners here, Miss Slingsby, and dare -not show ourselves till Mr. Wittingham's state is better ascertained, -or we should long ago have endeavoured to put your mind at rest upon -these subjects. However, we hear the young man is better, and -therefore I trust we shall not be obliged to play at hide and seek -much longer."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he went up the stairs again, but was several minutes ere -he returned, during which time, though occasionally falling into fits -of grave thought, Ned Hayward laughed and talked gaily; from time to -time stealing a quiet look at the fair face of Mary Clifford, as she -leaned her arm upon the table, and gazed somewhat sadly at the embers -of the gamekeeper's fire.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length Mr. Beauchamp made his appearance once more, and sitting -down to the table with a cheque-book before him, Ned Hayward, with a -laugh, took the pen in his hand, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must dash it off in haste, or it will be pronounced a forgery. So -here is for it," and with a rapid stroke or two he filled up the -cheque for the sum of twelve thousand pounds, and signed his name. His -cheek turned pale as he wrote; and Mary Clifford saw it, but that was -the only sign of pain that he suffered to appear. Then, throwing down -the pen, he took the paper with his left hand, and gave it to Miss -Slingsby.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There," he said, "I have had you on my knee twelve years ago, and -called you dear little Bella; but I never thought you would give me so -much pleasure as you do now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Ned Hayward," exclaimed Isabella, with her eyes running over, -"you are certainly the best and noblest creature in the world."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford's lips murmured something very like "He is."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp looked on with an expression of grave pleasure; but scarcely -was the check signed and given, when the door of the cottage opened -suddenly, and Stephen Gimlet took a step over the threshold, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have caught him, gentlemen, I have caught him like a rat in a -trap."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whom have you caught?" asked Beauchamp, turning quickly towards him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, the fellow who fired the shot in at the window," answered -Stephen Gimlet.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is glorious!" exclaimed Ned Hayward. "Where is he? What have you -done with him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should not have meddled with him, perhaps," said the gamekeeper, -"if I had not found him meddling with the registers in the church, -which I know he has no right to do. I and Goody Lamb went out for a -bit into the churchyard, and, as she found the wind cold, we opened -the little door at this side of the church and went in; I had not been -in a minute, when I heard some one talking plain enough, but I could -not see any body for the life of me. I told Goody Lamb to stand behind -the pillar by the pulpit, while I went to see; but before I could take -a step, up out of the Moreton vault came two men with a lantern. One -of them was this fellow; and the other was the old sexton; and they -walked straight across towards the vestry; but, just a little way from -the door, the old sexton stopped and said, 'I can't, captain, it is -nothing better than forgery;' or something like that; and the other -fellow took the lantern and went on into the vestry. So I said to -Goody Lamb, in a whisper: 'Those rascals are up to no good;' and she -answered: 'One of them never was all his life.' So, then I said: 'You -get forward and scare the old sexton; I'll be close behind you.' The -old woman did it in a minute, walking on without any noise, till she -was right between him and the light, coming out of the vestry-door. -However, he had heard us whisper, I fancy; for he was staring about -him, as if he was looking for a ghost; and, as soon as he saw -something stand there, off he set, as if the devil were behind him; -and I jumped into the vestry, where the other fellow was sitting with -one of the great books open before him, and a pen in his hand. I did -not give him much time to think, but knocked him over, upset the -lantern, and locked the door. So there he is in a cage, just like one -of my ferrets."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That's capital," cried Ned Hayward; but Beauchamp looked very grave, -and, turning to Gimlet, he said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"We'll consider what is to be done with him by and by. You can bring -your good mother-in-law back now, Stephen; for our business is nearly -over, and then you can see these two ladies safe to the carriage. Miss -Slingsby," he continued, as soon as the gamekeeper was gone, "I wish -to speak two words with you regarding this little note," and he held -one up before her. "I took advantage of the pen and ink before I -brought it down, and so kept you waiting, I'm afraid; but it was not -without a purpose."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella hesitated for a moment; but Beauchamp added, laughing,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, surely, you will trust yourself with me as far as the door."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes," replied Isabella, with a gay toss of her head; "I am doing -all kinds of odd things to-night, and see no reason for stopping in -mid course."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, she walked towards the door, with Beauchamp following; -and they went out into the little garden, where Beauchamp put the note -in her hand, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is addressed to Dr. Miles, my dear young lady. We are not very -well aware of what has taken place regarding this mortgage, which -Hayward has mentioned to me; but I fear there is some foul play going -on. Should any sudden inconvenience arise regarding it, or the -interest upon it, send that note instantly to Dr. Miles, and, at the -same time, take means to let me know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how, my kind friend?" asked Isabella, "how can I let you know, -without discovering your place of concealment to others? You are -doubtless, aware, that there are placards all over the place offering -a reward for the apprehension of yourself and Captain Hayward."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must not mind that," answered Beauchamp; "but, at all events, it -may be as well to send a note to me, enclosed to good old Widow Lamb; -and I must take my measures afterwards, as I find best. In the mean -time, Dr. Miles will insure that your father is put to no -inconvenience; for it so luckily happens, that I have a large sum -unemployed at the present moment, which could not be better applied, -than by saving you from distress and annoyance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, Mr. Beauchamp," cried Isabella, greatly moved, "what right have I -to so much kindness and generosity?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Every right, that a fine and noble heart can give," answered -Beauchamp; "and, oh, let me add, every right, that can be bestowed by -the most sincere affection, that ever woman inspired in man--but I -will not agitate you more to-night. This is not a moment, when I can -press such a topic upon you. There is only one thing you must promise, -that you will suffer no consideration whatever to prevent you from -availing yourself of the means of freeing your father from his -difficulties--no, not even the rash words I have just spoken."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella was silent for a moment; but then she replied, in a low -voice,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Those words would have quite the contrary effect. They would give me -confidence and hope;" and she put her hand in his.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp raised it to his lips warmly, fully understanding all that -her reply implied.</p> - -<p class="normal">The devil is in a country apothecary. There is an awkward fatality -about them which always brings them on the ground at the wrong moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good night, good night, Mr. Beauchamp," said Mr. Slattery of -Tarningham, slowly walking his horse down the sandy lane. "I thought I -would just step in to see Captain Hayward, and tell you that Harry -Wittingham is much better to-night," and Mr. Slattery, was dismounting -from his horse, not in the slightest degree with the intention of -seeing whose hand Mr. Beauchamp had been kissing, but merely in the -exercise of his professional avocations. As misfortune would have it, -Beauchamp had left the cottage-door open behind him, so that the -surgeon had a fair view of the act by which that gentleman had sealed -his tacit contract with Isabella, by the light which streamed forth -from within. But that which was unfortunate on one side, was fortunate -on another; for no sooner was the first monosyllable out of Mr. -Slattery's mouth, than Isabella darted in and closed the door, so that -the surgeon, though he thought the figure strangely like Sir John's -daughter, could not swear to the fact.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp at the same time hastened to prevent his obtaining any more -precise knowledge, saying. "Thank you for your information, Mr. -Slattery. Hayward is better, and cannot see you to-night, being -particularly engaged at present. Good night;" and he also retired into -the house and shut the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ho, ho!" said Mr. Slattery, "so they do not choose me to see! Well, -let them take the consequences. When people trust me, I can be as -silent as the grave; but if they show a want of confidence, I know how -to match them. Did I whisper one word to any one of where the two -gentlemen were? No, not a word! and now they think to blind me. Well, -well, we shall see."</p> - -<p class="normal">And Mr. Slattery did see, for while this soliloquy had been going on, -he had been going on too, and when it came to a conclusion, he came -upon the lamps of the large comfortable barouche of Sir John Slingsby.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good evening, Jenkins," said Mr. Slattery to the tall fat coachman, -"is Sir John in this part, that you are out so late?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Sir," replied Jenkins, "he's got the charitt over at Meadowfield. -I brought over my young lady to see Widow Lamb, at Gimlet's, the new -keeper's.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ho, ho," said Mr. Slattery again, but he had not time to make -reflections, for at the very moment, he heard a pair of human feet -running hard, and the next instant a figure shot across the glare of -the carriage-lamps. Mr. Slattery had a quick eye, and he instantly -called after the runner, "Hie! hie! captain, I want to speak with -you."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the person whom he addressed ran on; and as Mr. Slattery did not -choose to be so evaded, he struck his plated spurs into his horse's -side, and overtook him at the distance of a quarter of a mile; for -once past the style where the carriage stood, there was no possible -means of getting out of the high-banked lane.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hie, captain! Captain Moreton!" cried Mr. Slattery, as he came near; -and Moreton not at all liking to have his name shouted all over the -country, slackened his pace.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What the devil do you want, Slattery?" he asked, "do you not see I'm -in a hurry?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There's my little account, you know, captain," said Mr. Slattery, -"four years' standing, and you'd really oblige me very much if--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Devil fly away with your account," said the worthy captain, -"do you think I'm going to pay for all the physic you drugged the -maid-servants with at the hall?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you heard the news, captain?" exclaimed Mr. Slattery, coming -abruptly to the real point, as he perceived the other was going to run -again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, what news?" asked Moreton, pausing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why that Miss Slingsby is going to be married immediately to Mr. -Beauchamp, who has been staying down here so long," answered Mr. -Slattery; and then added, "as soon as young Wittingham's out of all -danger, they say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is she, by G--d!" exclaimed the captain. "Well, doctor, I shall take -the short cut through that gate--good night; and do not say to any one -you saw me here. I know you can be trusted with a secret."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To be sure!" said Mr. Slattery; and while Captain Moreton vaulted -over the gate, the surgeon pursued his way towards Tarningham.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXIX.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Sir John Slingsby returned to Tarningham Park at about the hour of -"dark midnight;" but he found both daughter and niece still up to -receive him. That Sir John Slingsby had imbibed a portion of wine more -abundant than most men could carry discreetly was evident from the -increased depth of the rose in his complexion, and from a certain -watery lustre in his eyes; but it must not thence be inferred that the -baronet was even in the least degree drank. How many he had left drunk -behind him matters not to this history; but he himself, though gay as -usual, was perfectly sober, quite gentlemanly and at his ease; for he -had not even arrived at that pitch where a consciousness of wine makes -one careful of not showing its effects.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, young ladies," he said, seating himself in his armchair for a -moment, and sticking his thumb into his white waistcoat, "you have -passed a dull night, I dare say, with the old gentleman out, and the -two young gentlemen Lord knows where. Well, how are we to wear away -to-morrow?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall wear away the morning, my dear uncle," said Mary Clifford, -who had held long councils with her cousin, "in going to Tarningham; -and I will ask you to lend me the carriage for an hour at eight -o'clock."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Certainly, dear Mary," said the baronet; "but Tarningham? what takes -your pretty little self to Tarningham?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why the truth is I want some money," answered Miss Clifford, "I think -the bank opens at half-past eight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Money in the bank!" cried Sir John Slingsby, "was there ever such a -girl? She has money in the bank! Well! take the carriage, Mary, when -you like, and be back to breakfast at half-past nine, otherwise you -shall have cold tea, and not a bit of pasty. Now to bed, to bed; for -if people have to go to Tarningham early in the morning, they must go -to bed at night."</p> - -<p class="normal">The breakfast-table was laid, as usual, by nine o'clock in the -morning; but before that hour Isabella Slingsby had been down and had -wandered about in the drawing-room and in the library with a nervous -sort of unsettledness in her manner, which struck even the servants, -who happened to pass. She looked out of almost every window in the -house which was accessible to her; she gazed down every road that -wound through the park; she scanned every moving figure, that was -within the range of sight; and she felt every moment a terror of what -the next would bring, which she had never experienced in life before. -She wished that Mary had not left her, that they had sent some one for -the money; and she conjured up difficulties and distresses, obstacles -that she would not know how to meet, questions of law and form of -which she was unaware, to trouble herself and agitate her mind still -more. At length, with a bold resolution, she rang the bell, and -ordered the servant, who appeared, to go down to Doctor Miles's, with -her compliments, and say she would be glad to see him. The moment -after her father entered the room as gay, as bustling, as jovial as -ever; his face resplendent with small red veins; his eyes sparkling -like the wine of the night before; his ample stomach rolling -unrepressed under an easy waistcoat; and his stout legs and neat foot -carrying him about with the light step of one-and-twenty. To have -looked at him one would have thought that there was not such a thing -as care or sorrow in the while world, much less in his own house.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Bella!" he cried, kissing her, "how have you slept, my -love?--Where's Mary?--not come back? How's your aunt?--pining, -pining, eh?--see what comes of a melancholy constitution, too much -bile and twenty years' trial of a puritanical husband! Well, what's -o'clock?--five-and-twenty minutes after nine--come along, we'll have -breakfast. Mary shall have a fresh jot of tea when she comes," and in -went Sir John Slingsby to the breakfast-room, ringing the bell as if -he would have pulled it down the moment he got it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Breakfast," he exclaimed, when the butler appeared; "has not the -postbag come?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Sir John," replied the man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very late," said the baronet; and, marching to the window, he looked -out upon the sunshiny park, with his hands behind him, for want of -better occupation.</p> - -<p class="normal">To poor Isabella Slingsby her father's lively unconsciousness was -terrible; and it was with trembling hands that she made the tea and -poured out the coffee, giving a sharp look round every time the door -opened, as if in expectation of some grim bailiff's face appearing. -Such, indeed, would have been the case, had it not been, that good Mr. -Bacon had contrived to delay what he could not prevent; and at length, -much to the joy and satisfaction of Isabella, the grating sound of -carriage-wheels was heard from the park. That sound was still distant -and indistinct, however, when the butler came in with a very peculiar -and significant expression of countenance, saying, "Please, Sir John, -there's a man wants to speak with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, he must wait," said Sir John Slingsby. "Tell him I am at -breakfast--has not the postbag come yet?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Please, Sir John, the man says he must speak with you directly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell him to go to the devil," said Sir John Slingsby, "and speak with -him;" but the words were scarcely out of his mouth, when the door -opened behind the butler, and not one man, but two appeared.</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella's face had been very pale from the first announcement made by -the servant; but Sir John had remained perfectly unconscious till he -saw those two strange faces. They were any thing but pleasant faces -in the abstract, for though well washed and shaved there was a -ruffianly dirt of expression, which no soap could get rid of. There -are certain professions which stamp themselves upon the outer man in -indelible lines. The bailiff--the man who makes his bread or his -fortune by inflicting the most poignant misery the law knows upon his -fellow-creature--the step in society still lower than the hangman--is -never to be mistaken; and Sir John Slingsby recognised at once tie -errand of his intrusive visitors in their aspect. His face became very -pale, the red veins turned blue; and he sat at the table without -uttering a word. He well knew that these men's appearance, though -bad enough in itself, was but the commencement of evils: that the -long-delayed hour was come: that the thin worn line which upheld his -whole fortunes had snapped, and that he was now to fall into the gulf -of ruin which had so long yawned beneath him. Arrested and carried -from his house, every creditor would pour in with his claims, every -debt be swelled by law expenses, till nought would be left for him and -for his child, but a prison and a life of labour.</p> - -<p class="normal">His careless heart sank with the weight suddenly cast upon it; and his -brain was overpowered with the multitude of thoughts it had resisted -too long.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Isabella stepped in like an angel of comfort; her heart rose as -his fell. The moment of terror passed away, and as the foremost of the -two men laid his hand lightly upon Sir John's shoulder, she whispered -in his ear, "Do not alarm yourself, my dear father. Mary has gone to -Tarningham for the money. We heard of all this last night, and are -quite prepared. She will be here in a moment--I hear the carriage -coming up now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At whose suit and for what amount?" demanded Sir John Slingsby, -turning to the bailiff. He could say no more, for some moments were -required to collect his thoughts.</p> - -<p class="normal">"At Mr. Wittingham's, Sir John," replied the man, "for five thousand -three hundred and forty-two pounds seven and fourpence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you may tell Mr. Wittingham for me," said Sir John Slingsby, -"that he is a d--d shabby, sneaking scoundrel, to do such a thing as -this without giving me some notice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, come, Sir John," rejoined the bailiff, "you know it is no use -talking--you must come along, you know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are somewhat too quick, Sir," said Isabella, interposing, "if you -mean to say the debt must be paid, that is very well. It shall be -paid."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, Miss; but it must be paid immediately or Sir John must march," -answered the man, screwing his eye at his follower, "gammon is gammon, -you know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not understand what you mean," said Isabella, haughtily, "pray, -papa, do not touch him (for Sir John had risen with fury in his -countenance). The debt shall be paid immediately, as you say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you shall be ducked in the horse-pond for your insolence," added -the baronet, continuing to the butler, "call in all the men."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay--do not, my dear father!" cried Isabella. "Five thousand -three hundred and forty pounds, you said?" she continued, addressing -the bailiff, "I will bring the money this moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Forty-two, seven, and four," said the man, sullenly, "but there may -be detainers, and as the caption is made, I fancy I cannot--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I'll soon settle that," said Sir John Slingsby, "you see, my good -fellow, there are several windows to this room as well as doors--I do -not resist the law--wouldn't resist the law for the world! but as soon -as the money is paid, you go out of either windows or doors as you -please; but speedily in either case. Get the money, Bella--call the -men here," he added, speaking sharply to the butler, "I see we shall -want them."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella hastened out of the room; for the carriage had just drawn up, -and as she entered the vestibule she saw Mary stepping lightly out of -it with a calm smile. "Have you got it?" cried Isabella, in eager -haste, "they are here already."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" said Mary, sadly, "I am sorry for that; but there was some -difficulty; for at the bank, as the sum was so large, they wanted -proof of Captain Hayward's signature, which they did not well know. I -could not tell what to do, and therefore went to Mr. Bacon's who soon -settled the matter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why the writ was taken out by him," cried Isabella.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I know," answered her cousin, "but he told me how sorry he was -to be forced by Mr. Wittingham to do it; and explained that it would -be much better to pay the money at once in Tarningham, when he would -give me a receipt in full, and an order, or something, to these men, -so as to stop any thing unpleasant at once; for he thought I should -get back before they arrived. He said there would be a great object -gained in paying the money at once, so that the receipt might be dated -before what he called the <i>caption</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And did you do it?" asked Isabella, eagerly; "did you do it, dearest -Mary?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," answered her cousin, half alarmed; "I really believe he is a -very honest little man, and he seemed truly distressed al Mr. -Wittingham's conduct. He gave me the receipt and the order too, and -took great pains to date them half-past eight, though it was nearly -nine. I hope I have not done wrong, Isabella?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, dear, no. I dare say it is all quite right," cried Isabella, -joyfully; "give them to me, Mary, and let me run back; for I am afraid -of what my father calls 'an affair of posts,' between him and these -bailiffs. I left him marvellously pugnacious."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford put into her hand the two papers which she had received -in Tarningham; and at the same time drew forth a small bundle of -bank-notes, saying, "There is the rest of the twelve thousand -pounds--for Heaven's sake, take care of it, Isabella."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her cousin gazed at the little packet with a gay smile, and then -tossing her head with the joy of a light heart relieved from a heavy -load, she ran back into the breakfast-room, while Mary went upstairs -to lay aside her shawl and bonnet.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the door of the room where she had left her father, Isabella -resumed a calm and composed air; and entering with a stately step, -found five or six men-servants arranged across the end of the chamber, -while the two bailiffs stood looking somewhat crest-fallen and -apprehensive near Sir John, who, for his part, sat beating a tune on -the breakfast-table with his fingers, and endeavouring to appear -unconcerned. A sharp anxious glance at his daughter's face, however, -told that all fear was not at an end; but her confident look -re-assured him, and he exclaimed, "Well, Bella, have you brought the -money?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," replied Miss Slingsby, and approaching the table, she laid down -the roll of bank-notes, spread them out and began to count--"One -thousand, two thousand, three, four, five, six thousand;" she said -aloud, much to the astonishment and admiration of the servants.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is more than enough, Madam," said the bailiff, approaching with -humbled air and smooth tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know it is," replied Isabella: "be so good as to keep your hands -away, Sir; for you are not going to have one penny of that sum. I was -only counting to see that the sum was right. That paper, I think, will -be quite enough for you; and that, my dear father, is the receipt for -the whole sum and costs to Mr. Wittingham."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Ma'am, well, I've nothing to say," exclaimed the bailiff, "it -is all in order. Howsomever, I have only done my duty; and am very -glad the matter is so settled."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Done your duty, you vagabond," cried Sir John Slingsby, "done -only your duty, when you ventured to use the word gammon to my -daughter--but it does not matter--it does not matter! Get out of my -sight as fast as possible, and tell that fellow Wittingham to keep far -off me, for, as sure as I am alive, I will horsewhip him the first -time I see him--take care of them, my men, and see them safe off the -grounds."</p> - -<p class="normal">The words certainly did not seem to imply any very formidable menace; -but as such the bailiff and his follower seemed to understand them, -and made speed towards the door, while the men-servants answered "That -we will, Sir John;" but made way for the two unwelcome visitors to -effect their exit easily. Isabella remonstrated earnestly with her -father; but the jovial baronet only exclaimed, "Pooh! nonsense, Bella; -no harm can happen, I must see what goes on; for, with a fair start -and a good run, it would be capital fun. Come into the library--come -into the library, we shall have the best view there; and after that we -will breakfast."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella Slingsby, however, remained alone in the breakfast-room, -gazing down upon the notes spread out on the table. The eagerness, the -excitement of the moment was gone. The anxious fear for her father's -liberty was over. Something smote her heart--even the little display -of the money before the eyes of the servants and the bailiffs, she was -sorry for. Considerations presented themselves which she had never -thought of before; and when her cousin Mary entered the room a few -minutes after, Isabella cast her arm round her neck, and bending her -head upon her shoulder, said, with a blush on her cheek and tears in -her eyes, "Poor Ned Hayward, Mary, I have thought too little of him, -and he is not rich, I know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not be afraid, Isabella," said Mary, in a low tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I am afraid, Mary," rejoined Isabella, "I know my father is -terribly embarrassed--I fear he will never be able to repay this sum."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I will," said Mary Clifford.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXX.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">We must go back to Stephen Gimlet's cottage and the preceding night. -Beauchamp and Captain Hayward stood together by the table, when their -two fair visitors had left them, waiting for the return of the -gamekeeper, and they both remained silent for several minutes. There -are times, when great things just accomplished, of whatever kind, or -character, seem to oppress the spirit and keep it down, as it were, -under a heavy weight. Nor is it altogether uninteresting to inquire -what is the cause of this oppression--the remote, often unseen, even -indistinct cause. It is not sorrow, it is not regret; for the weight -of thought seems cast upon us as often by a joyful as a sorrowful -event; and I speak not at all of the effect of misfortune, but simply -of that which is produced upon the mind by a great deed done--great, -at least, to the person who has performed it. I am inclined to think, -that the sort of load which I speak of, may be traced to the -consciousness of all the vast multitude of consequences of which every -act is the source. Not the slightest thing we do that does not send a -thrill vibrating along the endless chains of cause and effect to the -utmost limit of time through the whole grand machine of future -existence. Man dies, but not one of his acts ever dies, each -perpetuated and prolonged for ever by interminable results, affecting -some beings in every age to come--ay, even the slightest. But that -which is to follow only becomes a question with man when the deed is -to his own cognizance important as affecting himself and those around -him. The eye of God sees all; but it is merely when the consequences -are visible to our own limited ken, that we feel the strange -involution of our destiny with that of others, and, when what we have -just done is in its immediate results likely to affect us and those we -love profoundly, that we pause to consider all the wide extent of the -future which that act implies. Then we feel as if we had plunged -headlong into an ocean of endless waves, and the weight of the waters -oppresses the heart and spirit. We ask, what next? and then, what will -follow? And in the game of chess that we are playing against Fate, -look for the next move of our great adversary, and all the -consequences of that which we have ourselves just made.</p> - -<p class="normal">Both Beauchamp and Hayward had done an important thing that night. The -latter had stripped himself for a friend's benefit of the treasured -resource of after-life. Never rich, he had left himself but a scanty -pittance which was not likely to be increased by any means but his own -personal exertions. From that moment, he felt that his course of life -must be changed, that his views, his feelings, his habits, must -undergo a severe scrutiny, and be subjected to a hard discipline; that -the careless ease, the light-hearted indifference to the morrow was at -an end; that the small cares he had never yet known, the looking to -shillings and to pence, and all the sordid minutia; of difficult -economy were to be his companions for life, as inseparable from his -footsteps as his shadow. Honest poverty may be a very fine thing in -contemplation, but let its admirers understand that it is a difficult -thing in practice; for honesty and poverty are like Adam and the devil -in the garden, ill-suited tenants of one house, the latter of whom is -always laying out snares to reduce his companion to his own level. If -such be the case where the circumstances of birth have made the evils -of poverty habitual, and given its temptations no factitious -advantages, how much more is it so, when a knowledge of, a taste for, -and a long education in ease and comfort, have both engendered a habit -of expense, and rendered the restraints of poverty privations. It is -then that honesty has to struggle with a host of foes, and too often a -murder and suicide are committed: honesty killing itself after an -attempt to get rid of its comrade.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Ned Hayward was a very honest man, and his first thought was how -to bear his poverty rightly. He gave not one thought to the money he -had just given away--for so he believed it to be--he would have -performed the same act over and over again a dozen times if he had had -the means and the motives to do so; and would each time have done it -willingly; but that did not prevent his feeling the painful situation -in which he had left himself; and he contemplated with deep thought -and stern resolution all that was to issue from the deed he had done.</p> - -<p class="normal">With Beauchamp, the feelings might be different, but the sources from -which they sprang were the same. He, too, had taken a step, which was -to influence the whole of his future life. He had said words to -Isabella Slingsby, of which he felt all the import at the moment they -were spoken--which he spoke purposely, that there might be no doubt or -hesitation on her mind in regard to his sensations or purposes, and -yet which, as soon as they were uttered, filled him with a vague -feeling of apprehension. Yet Beauchamp was a resolute man in -character; and had performed acts of persisting resolution, which few -men would have had the determination to carry through. He loved -Isabella too dearly; and had the whole world been subject to his -choice would have selected her. He was anxious, likewise, to call her -his own, for he was not without the fire of passion, and was very -different from those idle triflers, in whom love is a vanity lighted -up by the cold <i>ignis fatuus</i> of a volatile and fugitive desire. But -his previous history furnished materials for doubt and alarm; and when -he paused to contemplate all the innumerable consequences of the few -words he had spoken, there was a mist over one part of that sea of -many waves, and he asked himself, with awe, "What is beneath?" The -thought, however, that he was loved in return, was consolation and -courage; and though, for his part, Ned Hayward did not venture to -indulge in any such sweet dream, yet the image of Mary Clifford, like -that of the Virgin in the old legend, shed a light which dispelled the -darkness along one bright path, through the obscure future, for him -also.</p> - -<p class="normal">The contemplations of both gentlemen, however, were speedily broken -through by the return of Ste Gimlet, who, turning to Mr. Beauchamp, -inquired,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Please, Sir, what shall we do with the man locked up in the vestry?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, have him out," cried Ned Hayward, "and hand him over to a -constable."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp did not reply so quickly; but at length he said, "There may -be difficulty, Hayward, in finding a constable at this time of night; -and not only difficulty, but also danger to ourselves, if we take any -part in the business. Is the place where the man is confined secure?" -he continued, addressing the gamekeeper.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pretty well, Sir, I think," answered Gimlet; "there are bars to the -windows, and the door is locked tight enough. Then we can lock the -church-door too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I locked it, Stephen," said Mrs. Lamb; "there hangs the key."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then let him stay there the night," rejoined Beauchamp, "I will -not interfere to screen him; and Gimlet can get a constable early -to-morrow morning, without our taking any part in the affair."</p> - -<p class="normal">This proposal was agreed to by Ned Hayward, though the expression -which his friend used, in regard to screening the offender, struck him -as somewhat strange. It is wonderful, however, how often in life we do -what is vulgarly termed, reckon without our host. The two gentlemen -retired to rest in the rooms above, which had been prepared and -furnished for them in haste, since the duel with young Wittingham; and -Stephen Gimlet and Widow Lamb also sought repose. Early the next -morning, however, the gamekeeper rose to seek a constable; but first -he thought it expedient to look at the temporary prison in which he -had confined Captain Moreton. The doors, both of church and vestry, -were still closed and locked; but passing round, towards his own -cottage again, by a little grass-grown path, that ran under the church -walls Ste Gimlet was surprised and confounded to perceive that three -of the bars covering the window of the vestry, had been forced out of -the old mortar in which they had been socketed; and, jumping up on a -tombstone to look in, he soon saw that the bird, as he expected, had -taken wing from its cage.</p> - -<p class="normal">Stephen Gimlet, notwithstanding this discovery, did not return to his -cottage at once, to communicate the intelligence to those within. He -paused and thought; but, to say truth, it was not of the event which -he had just ascertained that he meditated. That was done and over: the -man was gone, and might never be caught again; but the words which -Beauchamp had spoken the night before had made a deeper impression -upon his mind than they had upon Ned Hayward's, and naturally, for the -young officer had never remarked or heard any thing before, which -could lead his fancy to perceive any connexion between his friend and -Captain Moreton. Stephen Gimlet, on the contrary, had observed much -that excited his imagination, and it was one of a very active -character. He remembered the interest which Beauchamp had displayed in -the monuments of the Moreton family; he remembered all the inquiries -he had made regarding their former property; and he did not forget -either his mother-in-law's ancient connexion with one of the members -of that house, or the somewhat mysterious expressions she had used in -regard to Beauchamp himself. It was a tangled skein, difficult to -unravel, but yet he resolved to unravel it; not exactly from -curiosity, though curiosity might have some share therein, but rather -because, in his wild fancy, he dreamed that the knowledge which Goody -Lamb possessed of his guest's previous history, might afford him some -means of serving a man he looked upon as his benefactor. He was -peculiarly susceptible of kindness or unkindness, of gratitude or its -reverse, resentment, and he thought that it would be a happy day for -him if he could ever return to Mr. Beauchamp, even in a small degree, -the kindness he had received. He pondered upon these things for full -five minutes, and then returned to his cottage, where he found the old -lady in the inner room, making the little boy repeat a short prayer at -his bedside, after having washed and dressed him. It was a sweet and -wholesome sight to the father. He contrasted it with former days, and -he felt the balmy influence of honest peace pour over his heart. One -of the first rewards of a return to virtue from any of man's many -deviations, is an appreciation of its excellence. He stood and gazed, -and listened, well satisfied, while the words of holy prayer rose up -from the sweet tongue of his own child; and if the boy had prayed for -his father's confirmation in his return to right, the petition could -not have been more fully granted.</p> - -<p class="normal">When it was done, Ste Gimlet kissed the child and sent him out to play -in the little garden. Then, shaking hands with Widow Lamb, he said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wanted to ask you a question or two, goody. Do you know who the man -is that I locked into the vestry last night?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To be sure I do," answered the widow; "do you think, Stephen, I could -forget one I have seen in such times and known in such acts as that -man? No, no; I shall remember him to my dying day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then," replied her son-in-law, "I want you to tell me, goody, -what there is between him and Mr. Beauchamp; for the man has got out -and is off, and I have great doubts that he is Mr. Beauchamp's -friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had better hold my tongue, Stephen," said the old woman; "I had -better hold my tongue, at least till I see and understand more. One -thing at least I may say, and say truly, that the bitterest enemy ever -Mr. Beauchamp had was that Captain Moreton."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you think, Widow Lamb," asked the gamekeeper, in a low, stern -tone, "that he has any cause to wish Mr. Beauchamp dead?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The old woman started, and gazed at him, demanding,</p> - -<p class="normal">"What makes you ask that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'll tell you, widow," replied the man. "Have you not heard of a shot -fired into Sir John Slingsby's dining-room? Well, that shot went -within a few inches of Mr. Beauchamp's head, and that is the man who -fired it."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old woman sank down on the stool by the bedside, and clasped her -hands together, exclaiming,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it come to that! Ay, I thought it would, sooner or later. He could -not stop--no, no, he could not stop!"</p> - -<p class="normal">She paused for a moment, and rocked herself backwards and forwards -upon the seat, with a pained and bewildered look.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see how it is, goody," said Gimlet; "and now I'll tell you. That -fellow shan't get off. I'll never give it up till I've caught him. -I'll track him, like a hare, to his form, and he shall be punished. -Mr. Beauchamp has been kind to me--one of the first that ever were; -and I'll not forget kindness, though I'll try to forget unkindness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take care what you are about, Stephen," answered his mother-in-law, -"or you may do harm instead of good. Watch him, if you will, to -prevent mischief; and above all, let me know every thing that you see -and hear. I will talk with Mr. Beauchamp, as you call him, this very -day. I wonder if the woman is living!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There was one woman with him, at all events," answered Stephen -Gimlet, "when he was down here last."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! what was she like?" inquired Widow Lamb, eagerly; "what was she -like?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I only saw her for a minute," replied the gamekeeper, "but she seemed -a fine handsome lady as one could wish to see--somewhat reddish in the -face; but with fine, dark eyes, and mighty gaily dressed. She was -tall, too, for a woman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, her eyes were dark enough," said Widow Lamb, "and she was always -fond of fine clothes--that was her ruin; but red in the face!--that is -strange; she had the finest and the fairest skin I ever saw."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, the redness might come from drink," said Ste Gimlet, "for she -seemed to me half drunk then. He called her Charlotte, I recollect."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that's her name," exclaimed the widow; "and so they have come -together again? It is for no good, I will answer; for two bolder or -worse spirits never met to plot mischief."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had better tell me all about it, goody," said Stephen Gimlet; "do -something to that fellow I will, and it's bad to work in the dark."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not till I have spoken to the gentleman upstairs," said the old -woman. "Watch the man, Stephen: find out where he is, what he is -doing, all about him, and about her too; but do not meddle with him -yet. Hark! they are coming down. You go away, and I will talk with him -this very day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must tell them he has got out, before I go," answered the -gamekeeper, going into the other room, and bolting the outer door, to -guard against intrusion while the two lodgers were below.</p> - -<p class="normal">No one, however, appeared but Beauchamp, whose first words were,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wish, Stephen, you would send some one down to Tarningham, to tell -Mr. Slattery to come up. Captain Hayward is not so well this morning, -and says he has not slept all night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will go myself, Sir," said Gimlet; "but I just wanted to tell you -that Captain Moreton has got out during the night. He has wrenched out -three of the bars of the window, and is off."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp mused.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, it does not much matter," he said, at length; "but you had -better inform Doctor Miles of what you saw in the church, and let him -take whatever steps he may think necessary to insure that no fraud has -been committed. I can have nothing to do with the affair. Bring up Mr. -Slattery as soon as you can, for I am somewhat anxious about Captain -Hayward's state this morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">Gimlet did not reply. He uttered no expression of sorrow or of -sympathy; but yet he felt as much grieved and alarmed as if Ned -Hayward had been his brother; and his countenance showed it though his -words did not.</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as he was gone, Mr. Beauchamp was turning to go upstairs -again; but Widow Lamb at the moment came out of the inner room, and -stopped him, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wish to speak a word or two to you, Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, my good lady," answered Beauchamp, with a smile; "can I do any -thing to serve you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Sir," replied the old woman, "it is not that. But I see you do -not recollect me--and, indeed, how should you! It is a long time since -we first met."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp gazed at her for a moment in silence, and then said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think I do remember having seen you somewhere before I met you -here. Your face struck me as familiar to my recollection when first I -saw you; but I cannot remember where I saw it long ago. Were you ever -in India?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! no, my lord, it was not there," answered Widow Lamb; "when first -I saw you, you were quite a young gentleman; the Honourable Charles -St. Leger, they called you; and you had come down with Captain -Moreton, your cousin, to shoot on the grounds of his great-aunt, Miss -Moreton."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp's face turned somewhat pale, and his fine broad brow -contracted; but he did not speak, and the old woman continued,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you not recollect, my lord, Davie Lamb the grieve, as they called -him, and your coming down with a gay party to the grieve's house, one -day? It was the eleventh of August, twelve years ago this summer; and -the lady was with you, Miss Charlotte Hay, as they called her--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush! hush!" cried Beauchamp, almost fiercely; "do not mention her -name in my hearing. You do not know--you do not know, good woman--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes, my lord, I do," answered Widow Lamb; "I know more than you -think--more than you know, perhaps, yourself. I can tell you many -things about her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell me nothing," said Beauchamp, sternly; "you can say nothing of -her conduct, infamous and bad, that I do not know or do not guess. I -wish never to hear her name again;" and he turned once more towards -the stairs.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I beg your pardon, my lord," said Widow Lamb, with a -disappointed look, "I did not mean to vex you, but if ever you should -wish to hear more, I can tell you better than any one; for there is -nobody now living knows so much as I do, and I think--"</p> - -<p class="normal">The conclusion of her sentence was wanting, for some one opened the -cottage door, which had not been bolted since Stephen Gimlet had gone -out. The next moment, the head of Mr. Slattery appeared, and entering -with an insinuating smile, the worthy surgeon saluted Beauchamp -reverentially, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I met my good friend Wolf, Mr. Beauchamp, and was sorry to hear that -Captain Hayward is not so well. But I have got good news for him, and -you too. No more need of playing at bo-peep. I found Mr. Wittingham so -much better this morning, that I have ventured publicly to pronounce -him out of danger."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God for that!" said Beauchamp; "but we had better go up and see -Hayward, who seems to me somewhat feverish."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am afraid there is a bit of the wadding, or the coat, or something -still in the wound," said Mr. Slattery, following upstairs, "but there -is no cause for alarm. It may produce inconvenience and some -inflammation; but nature, my dear Sir, by the very same process which -produces pain and irritation to the patient, often expels any -extraneous substance, which, if it remained, might cause more serious -results."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Slattery remained at least an hour and a half; and to say the -truth, during that time he put our good friend Ned Hayward to some -torture, but in the end, he succeeded in extracting from the wound -which that gentleman had received, a portion of his waistcoat, which -had been carried in by the ball in its passage. Some hemorrhage -followed, which was stopped with difficulty; but at length the good -surgeon took his leave, and descended with Beauchamp to the lower -room.</p> - -<p class="normal">Widow Lamb, however, met them at the foot of the stairs, saying, in a -low tone,</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is a servant on horseback, from the Park, Sir, just now before -the door. He has got a note, which he will give to no one but you; and -I did not know what to do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is no necessity for any further concealment," said Beauchamp, -advancing to the door; "you have got a note for me," he continued, -speaking to the servant, who touched his hat, and delivered a small -billet.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp tore it open, and read, while good Mr. Slattery paused -beside him, in the hope of hearing some news; for, as we have shown, -he was not without a laudable portion of curiosity.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must go over directly," said Beauchamp, for that note placed before -his eyes a very unpleasant state of affairs at Tarningham Park--a -mortgage foreclosed, an execution placed in the house, and Sir John -Slingsby himself arrested on a heavy bond debt, for long arrears of -interest, and interest upon interest, and lawyers' costs. Isabella -wrote in a tone of despair; and yet there was a something shining -through all her gloomy words--a trust, a confidence in him to whom -those words were written, which were very pleasing to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can I drive you over in my gig, Mr. Beauchamp?" said Mr. Slattery.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I thank you," replied the other; "I dare say, my good fellow, you -will not object to let me mount your horse?" he continued, addressing -the servant, "I must get over to the Park as speedily as possible."</p> - -<p class="normal">Under ordinary circumstances, perhaps, the man might have objected; -but the events which had just happened at his master's house, were, by -the time he set out, known from the housekeeper's room to the pigsty, -and had excited amongst the servants too strong a feeling of dismay -and distress, for him to hesitate when there was a chance of affording -aid, or even consolation, to Sir John Slingsby and his daughter. He -instantly acceded, then, and lengthened the stirrups. Beauchamp only -stayed to get his hat and speak a few words to Ned Hayward, then -sprang into the saddle, and the next moment was going straight across -the country towards Tarningham Park.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">All was dismay and confusion in the house of Sir John Slingsby, when, -after having galloped across the park, without heeding bridle-paths or -carriage-roads, Beauchamp drew hit rein at the door. No servant came -to take the horse, for all were busy within, though, busy with what, -would have been difficult to say. The only thing they had to be busy -with was their own consternation; for there was no packing up for -departure, no inventories, no arrangements in progress; and yet not an -attendant appeared, except through the double glass-doors, where a -knot was to be seen assembled in the inner vestibule, who never turned -a look towards the terrace before the house. One excuse, perhaps, -might be that there were so many people arriving, that a new comer -could attract no attention. It seemed as if a general call had been -made upon Tarningham, to attend and witness the disgrace and -discomfort of the family. A number of tradesmen were gathered before -the doors, conversing together in low tones, and with gloomy faces; -and there was a post-chaise, besides a gig, a saddle-horse, and a -tax-cart or two. Beauchamp thought the spectacle somewhat odd; for it -seemed to him, notwithstanding all he knew of the gossiping -propensities of small places, that the news of Sir John Slingsby's -misfortunes must have spread with marvellous rapidity. But he knew not -Mr. Wharton, nor could conceive the policy which should induce a man, -who had chosen his moment for consummating a long prepared scheme for -stripping another of all his worldly wealth, to complicate his -difficulties by every means, so as to render the bonds he had cast -round him indissoluble.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here, take my horse," he said, addressing the sullen-looking -postillion who stood behind the chaise; and when the man obeyed, -civilly enough, Beauchamp approached a hale-looking man, like a -grazier, and inquired, "What is all this?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Sir," replied the man, who had often seen his interrogator in -Tarningham, "Mr. Wharton's clerk told me that there was an execution -going to be put in, so I came up to see if I could get my bill. But -the lawyer was beforehand with us; and the matter is not so much, only -forty pound or so, and I did not think it worth while, when I found -how matters are going, to trouble the hearty old gentleman, who has -spent a deal o' money with us all in his day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You seem a very respectable man," said Beauchamp, calmly, but still -somewhat moved, "and you shall not lose by your conduct. You, Sir," -and he turned to another, "I think you are the stationer at -Tarningham--is yours the same errand, and on the same information?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, Sir," answered the person he addressed, "one of Mr. Wharton's -young men came down and told me; but I think, with my neighbour -Groves, that we should behave handsome."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see the whole matter," said Beauchamp, speaking rather to himself -than those around. "You can wait a little, gentlemen? I think Sir John -can pay you all without inconvenience, though he is a careless man, -and his affairs may not be quite in order."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They say Mr. Wharton has arrested him, Sir," said a little man, with -a thin, small voice.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will go in and see," replied Beauchamp, with a smile. "If any of -you could contrive to go or send down to Tarningham, and say to Mr. -Bacon, the attorney, that Lord Lenham would be glad to see him here -immediately, you would oblige me. Tell him to lose not a moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'll go, in a jiffey," cried the stout man, jumping into a tax-cart. -"Who did you say, my lord?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord Lenham," answered Beauchamp; "he will know who you mean;" and -turning round, he walked into the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">The servants grouped themselves differently at his appearance, and -bowed low, the butler venturing to say,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am glad you have come, Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is your master?" asked Beauchamp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the library, Sir," replied the man, "with a number of them. It is -a sad time, Sir, 'specially for my poor young lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man walked on before, and opened the library door; Beauchamp -followed quickly; and certainly the sight which that room presented -was a painful one. Mrs. Clifford sat near one of the windows, the -picture of despair; Isabella was seated near the table, with her eyes -buried in her hands, and the rich curls of her beautiful hair falling -over her face. Mary was bending down to speak to her; grief in her -lovely face, but yet as calm and composed as usual. Old Sir John was a -little in advance, with two bailiffs standing near--not the same who -had been there earlier in the morning--and his valet behind him, -helping him to put on his great coat, while Mr. Wharton stood at the -other side of the large library-table, with a smile upon his lip, a -frown upon his brow, a sparkling black eye, and a double degree of red -in one of the cheeks, though the other looked somewhat pale. Two or -three men, whose business there and ordinary functions were not -apparent at the moment, made up the rest of the company.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir John Slingsby had one arm in the sleeve of his great coat, and was -thrusting angrily and ineffectually at the garment, to get the other -in also, speaking all the time in a furious tone, with his face turned -to Mr. Wharton.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I tell you, Wharton, you are a d--d scoundrel," he said, "an -ungentlemanlike blackguard. You have swindled me out of thousands, and -you know it; and now, without giving me a hint, you come upon me in -this way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are angry, Sir John, you are angry," said Mr. Wharton, in a sweet -tone. "It is as unpleasant to me as to you, I can assure you; but when -I heard that Mr. Wittingham had issued process, I was compelled, -however unwillingly, to take care of myself and my clients. You know I -told you a month ago it could not go on any longer; so you cannot say -you had not notice."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old baronet was about to pour upon him a new volley of -objurgations, thrusting manfully at the sleeve of his coat all the -time, when suddenly his eye rested upon Beauchamp and he stopped, -turning a little pale, for the presence of that gentleman at such a -moment both surprised and pained him. Mary whispered a word to her -cousin, however, and Isabella starting up with the tears in her eyes, -and a glow upon her cheeks, held out her hand to him exclaiming, "Oh, -thank you, thank you! Dr. Miles was not to be found," she added, in a -whisper, "or I would not have sent."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp smiled and shook his head half reproachfully, and Sir John -recovering himself took his hand saying, "Ah, Beauchamp, you have come -at an awkward time. Can't ask you to dinner to-day, my dear Sir, for -the house is in the hands of the myrmidons of the law, and I must -away, they tell me. It's a bad job, I am afraid."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nevertheless I intend to dine with you here, Sir John," answered -Beauchamp, laughing and shaking the baronet's hand warmly, "so you had -better take off your great coat."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I beg your pardon, Sir," said Mr. Wharton, taking a step forward, -"but I am afraid Sir John Slingsby cannot remain with you at present. -Business has been too long delayed already by the folly of the officer -who thought fit--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To act like a man of some consideration and feeling I suppose, Sir," -said Beauchamp, eyeing him from head to foot with a calm, cold, -withering look. "You are Mr. Wharton the attorney I imagine, of whom I -have heard so much in regard to several transactions soon to be -inquired into."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My name is Wharton, Sir; yes, my name is Wharton," answered the -solicitor in a sharp, fierce tone, "and I insist that you do not -interrupt the operation of the law."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The operation of the law I shall not interrupt," replied Beauchamp, -"but the operations of the lawyer I certainly shall."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He's a nabob," said Sir John Slingsby to his niece in a low, laughing -voice, "yes, you are quite right, Beauchamp, this is Mr. Wharton, the -attorney, calling himself esquire, and a greater scoundrel does not -live between the four seas. He has cheated me through thick and thin, -and now wants by coming upon me all in a moment to get possession of -my property as he has done with others before now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If such are his intentions he will find himself mistaken," answered -Beauchamp; "but now, Sir John, take off your coat again, and we will -to business. I think the ladies may as well leave us, however.--Be -satisfied, my dear Madam," he continued, speaking to Mrs. Clifford, -who had risen and come a little forward, "be satisfied, Miss -Slingsby--all this matter will be easily arranged, and Sir John and I -will join you in the drawing-room in an hour."</p> - -<p class="normal">While Beauchamp had been speaking these few words, Mr. Wharton had -been conversing with rapid utterance, but in a low voice, with one of -the men present, who seemed to be the superior sheriff's officer, and -as soon as the gentleman ceased he exclaimed. "Well, Sir, as you think -the whole matter can be so easily arranged I shall leave you to -arrange it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Excuse me, Mr. Wharton," said Beauchamp, coolly, "you will be good -enough to stay. We shall want you for certain receipts, and, perhaps," -he added with a smile, "for some good legal advice till my own -solicitor comes, whom I expect in about half an hour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My receipts can be soon given," said Mr. Wharton, a good deal -staggered and alarmed by Mr. Beauchamp's calm tone, and his allusion -to his solicitor; "but I can tell you that if you think that is all -you will have to do you are mistaken. The house is filled with -creditors."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gathered together by Mr. Wharton, the attorney, for the purpose of -overwhelming a gentleman whom he sought to ruin," answered Beauchamp. -"I am aware of all that, Sir. Your proceedings have been watched, and -I am informed of almost every step you have taken for the last month. -I dare say, however, we shall find means of satisfying all who have -any just claims."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella had lingered at the door after her aunt and cousin had passed -out, and now hastily turning back, she placed a little packet she had -held tight in her hand, in that of Beauchamp, saying, in a low voice, -"Here is more than six thousand pounds, left from what kind, good, Ned -Hayward gave last night. The other debts are not large, but this man's -claim is frightful."</p> - -<p class="normal">She spoke in a tone of alarm, but Beauchamp hastened to relieve her, -replying, "Never fear, never fear! The claim must be investigated, but -all that is just shall be paid. Leave us, and make your mind easy, -dear Miss Slingsby."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I really cannot waste my time here," said Mr. Wharton, as the young -lady left the room, "I have important business to attend to and the -magistrates to meet at eleven, Mr. What's-your-name."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My name, Sir, is Charles Beauchamp St. Leger, Viscount Lenham," -answered Beauchamp, "and I am afraid the magistrates must dispense -with your company to-day, Mr. Wharton. You cannot carry this business -through, Sir, in the same manner that you did that of my poor uncle, -Mr. St. Leger Moreton. So now make up your mind at once, Sir, to -remain here till the whole of this unpleasant business which you have -stirred up against Sir John Slingsby be brought to a conclusion, for -depend upon it I will not let you go till such is the case."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wharton's face had turned paler and paler, till the carbuncles, of -which it did not possess a few, remained alone in their glory; but he -was an irritable and fiery man up to a certain point, and he replied -in a bold tone, "Oh ho, my lord! Do you think because you happen to be -a peer who has been skulking about the country under an alias, that -you can come down and brow-beat us country gentlemen at your -pleasure?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I never attempt to brow-beat a gentleman," replied Beauchamp, laying -a particular emphasis on the last word, which called up a very -unpleasant grin upon the faces of two or three of the men present, -"nor do I brow-beat you, Mr. Wharton; but I simply insist upon your -staying till the business which brought you here is concluded. You -have no right to put Sir John Slingby in an unpleasant position, and -then leave him there when your presence is wanted to relieve him from -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has a ducking in the horse-pond, too, to go through," cried Sir -John Slingsby, "such as we gave the other bailiff he sent up this -morning. He must wait, he must wait for all the honours," and turning -round with a laugh the worthy baronet whispered a word or two to his -valet, who remained in the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will take care, Sir John," said the man, and was moving towards the -door; but Beauchamp interposed, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, we must have no violence. Only order the servants not to let -this man pass out till I have done with him;--and now to business. Sir -John, if you will take the end of the table I will sit here. Mr. -Wharton will place himself there, and the matter will soon be -arranged. Ring that bell, Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">The bailiff to whom he spoke obeyed in an instant; Sir John Slingsby -took a chair at the head of the table, and Mr. Wharton seeing no help -for it, seated himself where Beauchamp had pointed, turning his face -to the window with an indifferent air, as if the business about to -take place was no concern of his.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, Sir, what is it you want here?" asked Beauchamp, addressing one -of the officers.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hold a writ against Sir John Slingsby for twenty-two thousand three -hundred pounds," said the man, "at the suit of Joseph Wharton, Esq."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Sir, stand back," said Beauchamp, "we will deal with you -presently.--And you, Sir?" he continued, speaking to another stout -broad-set, black-faced man.</p> - -<p class="normal">This proved to be an officer put in execution upon a second bond for a -sum of seven thousand pounds at the suit of the same person. He also -was directed to stand back, Beauchamp saying, "Upon these actions we -will give bail, as they must be tried.--You, Sir, there at the end of -the table, what do you want?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, please you my lord, it's only my bill for a hundred and -seventeen pounds or thereabouts, for repairs to the stables and -offices. If it had not been Mr. Wharton told me I should not get my -money if I did not apply at once, I should never have thought of -troubling Sir John."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp's eye fixed sternly upon the attorney, who exclaimed with a -quivering lip, "Did you not consult me, Sir? Was I not bound to give -you a just opinion?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I never said a word to nobody," replied the man, "till I met you in -the street, and you told me Mr. Wittingham was going to arrest Sir -John."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Really, my lord, this is trifling," said Mr. Wharton. "I ask is Sir -John Slingsby ready to discharge his heavy debt to me? If he is, let -him do it and I go. If not he must, I fear, go to prison."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is quite ready, Sir, to discharge every just debt this instant," -replied Beauchamp, "but we doubt that your's is just, Sir, and -therefore we will deal first with those that are certainly honest. Sir -John," he continued pointing to a servant who had come in, "will you -order Dr. Miles to be sent for.--Now, my good man, you shall have a -cheque for your money," and taking out his cheque-book he wrote an -order for the amount, taking the builder's name and statement from his -own lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">Another man was then called forward, and the same course pursued, -Beauchamp proceeding quietly, although he saw Mr. Wharton rise and -enter into eager consultation with the bailiffs.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was not allowed to go on long without interruption, for after what -seemed some urgent remonstrances on the part of Mr. Wharton, and a -good deal of resistance on the part of the sheriff's officer, the -latter stepped forward, saying, "I really, my lord, cannot wait any -longer, and I do not see any good of it; for Sir John being in my -custody, and not knowing what detainers may be lodged against him, a -bail bond cannot be drawn till we see."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man spoke civilly, and with an evident respect for rank, and -Beauchamp answered calmly, "Your observation is a very just one, my -good friend. I have only to answer however that I am ready to give -bail to any amount which you may think necessary to secure the -sheriff, in which Dr. Miles will join me I am sure as soon as he -arrives."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a heavy sum, Sir," said the bailiff, doubtfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"True," answered Beauchamp, "and moreover you do not know, except from -my own word, who I am, nor that I am in a position to give an -available bond. It is for that very reason that I wish you to delay -till my solicitor and Dr. Miles arrive, when I assure you, upon my -word of honour, that you shall have every satisfaction. The sum -required would be more than met by money of mine in the Tarningham -bank, as you will see by that receipt, if I thought fit to pay the -debt claimed by Mr. Wharton at once, which I do not. The bond on which -the writ has been taken out is, you tell me, for twenty-two thousand -three hundred pounds. Here you see are sixty-five thousand pounds paid -on my account into the Tarningham bank."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But there is another bond for seven thousand five hundred pounds on -which execution has issued," said Mr. Wharton.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Exactly so," said Beauchamp, whose thoughts were very rapid, "and the -way I intend to deal with that matter is as follows: We will pay the -amount of that bond under protest as a matter of account, reserving -this other claim for twenty-three thousand pounds to try the questions -that may arise, such as consideration, usury, &c."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wharton bit his lip. He saw that he had made one mistake. He -feared that he might have made more; for knowing that Sir John -Slingsby had little acquaintance with law, and an invincible objection -to lawyers, excepting when he wanted to borrow money, he had gone on -with somewhat rash confidence in his own powers of over-reaching. -However he put a bold face upon the matter, saying, "That won't do, -Sir, that won't do, my Lord. You seem to have a smattering of the law, -but you will find that all accounts have been examined and passed. No -court in Christendom will open that question again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will see," replied Beauchamp, quietly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then there is the mortgage," said Mr. Wharton.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will be dealt with as we shall be advised," rejoined the young -nobleman; "the matter of the mortgage has nothing to do with the -business before us; and moreover, Mr. Wharton, I will beg you not to -interfere here till you are called upon. Though a lawyer you are -exactly in the same position as any other creditor, and in taking out -this writ, you have given all power into other hands. If I satisfy the -sheriff that he has sufficient security according to law, for the -appearance of Sir John Slingsby, that is all that is necessary; and I -will tell you, Sir, that sooner than see a course, which is certainly -unhandsome, and which I suspect to be villanous, successful against my -friend, even so far as to remove him from his own house for an hour, I -would pay the amount of all claims upon him to the sheriff under -protest. I have the means of doing so at command this moment, and -therefore be very sure that your arts will avail you nothing--Sir, I -understand you," he added sternly, "the property upon which you have -advanced a pitiful sum of fifty thousand pounds, and by accumulating -interest upon interest, and costs upon costs, have raised the debt to -nearly eighty thousand, is worth, at least, two hundred. The bait was -tempting, Sir; but beware that in snapping at it too eagerly, you have -not got the hook in your jaws. There is such a thing, Sir, as striking -fraudulent attorneys off the roll, and, at all events be sure, that -however pleasant it might be to possess this estate, you will never -have it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not want it, Sir," cried Mr. Wharton, half mad with rage and -vexation, "I would not have it if you would give it to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp laughed, and Sir John Slingsby shouted; while all the other -persons in the room, not excepting bailiffs, tittered, without -disguise, to the lawyer's sad discomfort.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! here comes Miles," exclaimed Sir John, "and Mr. Undersheriff too, -by Jove. That is lucky; the matter will soon be settled now.--How are -you doctor, how are you Mr. Sheriff? you are the very man we wanted."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am very sorry for all this business, Sir John," said a tall -gentlemanlike person, whom he had addressed; "but having business at -Tarningham, and hearing of the unfortunate occurrence by the way, I -thought it better to come up myself, as I felt sure the action could -be bailed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so it can," cried Sir John Slingsby, "here stands bail ready in -the person of my friend, Lord Lenham; but that pitiful little -snivelling rogue, Wharton, objects."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! good day, Wharton," said the sheriff, drily, "why do you object?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I do not object," replied the attorney, "the men here, Bulstrode -and the rest, thought there might be detainers, and the process -having--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no!" cried the officer, "we thought nothing about it, till you -told us to refuse the bail till we had searched the office. I've a -shrewd guess, Mr. Wharton, that you have got up all the creditors here -who could lodge detainers and his lordship offers to pay all honest -debts at once, and to put in bail against yours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do you mean by that?" exclaimed Wharton, furiously; but the -sheriff interfered, and at the same time Doctor Miles and Beauchamp, -who had been speaking together, turned round, and the clergyman -introduced his young friend to the officer of the county by the title -of Viscount Lenham.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This matter, I think, can be settled with you, Sir, in a few words," -said Beauchamp, "I do not choose to see my friend, Sir John Slingsby, -wronged. It so happens, that intending to buy an estate in this -neighbourhood, I have had a considerable sum paid lately into -Tarningham Bank. I am ready to give a bail bond for any sum you may -think necessary to your own security, that Sir John appears to the -action of Mr. Wharton, or anyone else; or to pay into your hands any -sum claimed, under protest. I think, in these circumstances, there can -be no need of removing Sir John from his own house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not in the least," said the sheriff, "bail will be quite sufficient, -and can be given here quite as well as ten miles hence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, my dear Sir," exclaimed Mr. Wharton, "there may be detainers for -aught you know, and to a large amount."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will take my chance of that, Wharton," replied the undersheriff, -"there were none when I came away, for I had occasion to examine the -books. It is not usual to lodge detainers till caption has been -actually effected, I think, my good friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think your proceeding very rash and irregular, Sir," replied the -lawyer, nettled, "and I should certainly object, if--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pooh, pooh!" cried the sheriff, "I am the best judge of my own -affairs; and you are meddling with what does not concern you, Mr. -Wharton. If I take a sufficient bail for Sir John's appearance to your -action, that is all yon have to do with, and perhaps more; so let us -have no more of this; for I will not be meddled with in the discharge -of my duties. You tried this once before, Sir, and did not find it -succeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Sir, take your own way, take your own way!" cried Mr. Wharton, -in a sharp tone; "the sum is large; if the bail be not good, you are -responsible. A gentleman who goes about the country under one false -name, may very well take another. I do not mean to say that it is so; -but this gentleman who calls himself Lord Lenham now, and called -himself Mr. Beauchamp a few days ago, may be the greatest swindler in -England for aught any of us know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Swindlers do not usually have large sums at the bankers," said Dr. -Miles, drily; "that is to say, Mr. Wharton, not those swindlers whom -the law is willing to take hold of, though I have known many rich men -who swindled a good deal within the law, especially in your -profession. But to set all that at rest, I will join in the bond, if -necessary, and I possess means, I trust, sufficient to insure Mr. -Under-Sheriff against all risk.--There comes Bacon, trotting up on his -little fat horse. Bacon is a very excellent man, considering the -temptations of profession and example."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, as my opinion is of no value, my presence can be of no -use," said Mr. Wharton; "and I shall therefore go. Good morning, -gentlemen--Sir John Slingsby, good morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">The baronet took a step forward, looking at the lawyer somewhat -ominously, while the good stout calf of his leg might be seen to -tremble a little, as if agitated by the simultaneous action of -antagonist muscles--but then he stopped, saying aloud,</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I won't kick him--no, I won't kick any body any more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A very prudent resolution, Sir John," said Dr. Miles, "pray adhere to -it; and if you include the horsewhip in your renunciations, you will -do well."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wharton was suffered to retreat, unkicked; the matter of the -bail-bond was easily arranged; all the rest of the business passed -quietly; the bailiffs and their satellites were withdrawn from the -house; the creditors who remained, paid; and the under-sheriff took -his leave. Somewhat more time had been expended, indeed, than -Beauchamp had expected that the affair would occupy, ere he, Sir John -Slingsby, and Doctor Miles, were once more left alone in the library; -but then the baronet seized his friend's hand, with an unwonted dew in -his eyes, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"How can I ever thank you for your noble conduct. I cannot show my -gratitude--but you must be secured. You shall have a mortgage for the -whole sum: the estate can well bear it, I am sure, notwithstanding all -that fellow Wharton says."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am quite convinced it can, Sir John," answered Beauchamp, "and I -will accept your offer, because, for reasons of my own, I am -exceedingly anxious that you should be under no possible obligation to -me; and now let us join the ladies, for they will think we are never -coming."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Miles smiled; for though he had never played at the games of love -and matrimony, he had been a looker-on all his life, and understood -them well. Sir John Slingsby was totally unconscious, and led the way -to the drawing-room, marvelling a little, perhaps--for he was not a -vain man--at the fact of his having so completely won Beauchamp's -regard, and created such an interest in his bosom, but never -attributing to his daughter any share therein. With parents it is ever -the story of the philosopher and his cat; and though they can solve -very difficult problems regarding things at a distance, yet they do -not always readily see that a kitten can go through the same hole in a -door which its mother can pass.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here, Isabel," cried the old gentleman, as they entered the room -where the three ladies were seated, watching the door as if their fate -hung upon its hinges, "shake this gentleman by the hand, as the best -friend your father ever had."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do thank him, from my heart," said Isabella, giving Beauchamp her -hand, with tears in her eyes; "but yet, my dear father," she added, -frankly, "Mr. Beauchamp would think me ungenerous, if I did not tell -you that you have another friend, who has acted in as kind and noble a -manner as himself. I mean Captain--no, I will call him by his old -name, Ned Hayward; for to him we owed the means of discharging the -debt to that man Wittingham."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The obligation is infinitely greater to him than to me, my dear Miss -Slingsby," said Beauchamp; "for I know that Hayward's income is not -very large, while, in my case, there is really no obligation at all. -This money was lying idle, and it might just as well be invested in -one way as another."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But every one is not so ready to invest money in a friend's relief," -said Sir John, "and I shall never forget it. Hang me, my dear girl, if -I can tell what he found out in me to like or respect; I never could -discover anything of the kind myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella coloured to the eyes, but answered at once,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Beauchamp consulted only his own noble heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Beauchamp!" cried Sir John Slingsby, with one of his merry -laughs; "Mr. Beauchamp had nothing to do with it, Bella. I am not in -the least indebted to Mr. Beauchamp."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella, Mrs. Clifford, and Mary, were all alarmed; for they might -well fear that the events of that morning had somewhat affected Sir -John Slingsby's brain. But he soon relieved them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Isabella," he continued, "it is to this gentleman I am -indebted--let me introduce him to you. Isabella, Lord Lenham! Lord -Lenham, my daughter."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella cast her eyes to the ground, and a shade of deep, and, it -seemed to Beauchamp, anxious thought, came over her face; but the next -moment she looked up, all bright and sparkling again, and exclaimed,</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, Lord Lenham has thought fit to come upon us in masquerade! That -was hardly fair, my lord."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Some day when Miss Slingsby will let me tell a long story she shall -hear the reasons why," answered Beauchamp, "and may then judge whether -it was fair or not. If she decides the cause in my favour, she may -tell the pleadings to the whole party, if she thinks I have greatly -erred she shall forgive the offender and conceal his crime under the -seal of confession."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again Isabella blushed deeply; and Sir John Slingsby made the matter -worse by exclaiming, "Ho, ho! it is to be a private conference, is it? -We are all to be kept in the dark, as indeed I have been lately; for -all I know is that I have been placed in a very unpleasant and -unexpected situation this morning, and as suddenly relieved from it by -the affection of two dear girls, and the generosity of our noble -friend. I have not thanked you yet, my dear Mary; but pray let me hear -how all this has been brought about that I may do so discreetly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the meantime," said Beauchamp, "I, who know the whole, will walk -back again to my poor friend Hayward, and tell him how all things have -gone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You promised to dine, you promised to dine!" cried Sir John Slingsby, -"no breach of promise or I will have my action against you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will keep mine to the letter," replied Beauchamp, "and be back in a -couple of hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And bring Ned Hayward with you," said the baronet.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp explained that such a thing was impossible, saying that his -friend had become somewhat worse in health since the preceding night, -but without giving any cause for alarm. His eyes turned towards Mary -Clifford as he spoke with a momentary glance, which sufficed, by the -paleness that spread over her face, to confirm suspicions which he had -entertained since the night before. He was too much a gentleman in -heart to keep his eyes there more than that one moment for he felt -that it would not only be a rudeness but an unkindness.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will walk with you, my good lord," said Doctor Miles, "I long to -see Captain Hayward. He has particularly interested me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you will walk back with Lord Lenham to dinner, doctor," said Sir -John as gaily as ever, "we will have one jolly evening after all this -<i>fracas</i> at all events."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will come to dinner," replied Dr. Miles, "expressly to keep it from -being too jolly, you incorrigible old gentleman."</p> - -<p class="normal">But Sir John only laughed, and the peer and the priest walked away -together.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"You said just now, doctor," observed Beauchamp as they strolled -through the park, "that Ned Hayward particularly interested you. I am -glad of it, for he did so with me from the first, without my well -knowing why; and we are always glad to find a prepossession which -savours perhaps a little of weakness, kept in countenance by others -for whom we have a respect."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You mistake altogether, young gentleman," replied the doctor, with -the dry spirit upon him. "In my case it is no prepossession; neither -did he interest me from the first. I generally can give a reason for -what I feel. I am no being of impulses. Indeed," he continued, more -discursively, "I was any thing but prepossessed in Captain Hayward's -favour. I knew he had been brought up in the army, under the judicious -auspices of Sir John Slingsby. That dear girl, Isabella, told me that, -from what she could remember of him, he was a gay, lively, rattling -fellow. Sir John called him the best fellow that ever lived, and I -know tolerably well what that means. The reason, then, why he -interested me very soon, was because he disappointed me. For half an -hour after I first saw him, I thought he was just what I expected--a -man constitutionally lively, gay from want of thought, good-humoured -from want of feeling; having some talents, but no judgment; acting -right occasionally by impulse, but not by principle."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You did him great injustice," said Beauchamp, warmly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know I did," replied the clergyman, "but not long. A thousand -little traits showed me that, under the shining and rippling surface -of the lake, there were deep, still waters. The singular delicacy and -judgment with which he treated that business of the scandalous attack -upon Mrs. Clifford's carriage; the kindly skill with which he led Sir -John away from the subject, when he found that it distressed poor -Mary; his conduct towards the poacher and his boy; his moderation and -his gentleness in some cases, and his vigour and resolution in others, -soon set all preconceived opinions to rights. He has one fault, -however, which is both a very great and a very common one--he conceals -his good qualities from the eyes of others. This is a great wrong to -society. If all good and honest men would but show themselves as they -really are, they would stare vice out of countenance; and if even -those who are not altogether what we wish, would show the good that is -in them, and conceal the bad, they would put vice and folly out of -fashion; for I do believe that there are far more good men, and even a -greater amount of good qualities amongst those who are partly bad, -than the world knows any thing about. So you see I am not a -misanthrope."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I never suspected you of being so, my dear doctor," said Beauchamp; -"if I had I should not have attempted to create an interest for myself -in you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay! then, you had an interested motive in coming up every other day -to my little rectory, just at the time that Isabella Slingsby visited -her poor and her schools!" cried Dr. Miles, laughing; "but I -understand it--I understand it all, my noble lord--there is not such a -thing as a purely disinterested man upon earth: the difference is -simply the sort of interest men seek to serve--some are filthy -interests, such as avarice, ambition, ostentation, even gluttony--how -I have seen men fawn upon the givers of good dinners! Then there are -maudlin interests, such as love and its et ceteras; and then, again, -there are the generous interests; but I am afraid I must class those -you sought to serve in such friendly visitations amongst the maudlin -ones--is it not so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not exactly," answered Beauchamp; "for if you remember, my good -friend, you will find that I came up to your house at the same hour, -and as often, before I saw Miss Slingsby there, as afterwards. -Moreover, during the whole time I did so come before I was introduced -to her father, I never had a thought of offering her my hand, how much -soever I might admire and esteem her."</p> - -<p class="normal">Dr. Miles turned round, and looked at his companion, steadily, for a -moment or two.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not know what to make of you," he said, at length.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will tell you," replied Beauchamp, with a sad smile, "for I do not -believe any one could divine the causes which have led me to act a -somewhat unusual, if not eccentric, part, without knowing events which -took place many years ago. I told you once that I wished to make you -my father confessor. I had not time then to finish all I had to say; -but my intention has been still the same, and it is now necessary, for -Miss Slingsby's sake, that I should execute it: we shall have time in -going over, and I will make my story short. You are probably aware -that I was an only son, my father having never married after my -mother's death, my mother having survived my birth only a few hours. -My father was a man of very keen sensibilities, proud of his name, his -station, and his family--proud of their having been all honourable, -and not one spot of reproach having ever rested on his lineage. He was -too partially fond of me, too, as the only pledge of love left him by -one for whom he sorrowed with a grief that unnerved his mind, and -impaired his corporeal health. I was brought up at home, under a -careful tutor, for my father had great objections, partly just, partly -I believe unjust, towards schools. At home I was a good deal spoiled, -and had too frequently my own way, till I was sent to college, where I -first learned something of the world, but, alas! not much, and I have -had harder lessons since. The first of these was the most severe. My -cousin, Captain Moreton, was ten years older than myself; but he had -not yet shown his character fully. My father and myself knew nothing -of it; for though he paid us an annual visit for a week or two, the -greater part of his time was spent either here or in Scotland, where -he had a grand-aunt who doted upon him. One year, when I was just -twenty, while he was on a shooting-party at our house in October, he -asked me to go down with him in the following summer, to shoot grouse -at old Miss Moreton's. I acceded readily; and my father as willingly -gave his consent. We set out on the twenty-fifth of July, and I was -received with all sorts of Scotch hospitality at Miss Moreton's house. -There were many persons there at dinner, and amongst the rest a Miss -Charlotte Hay--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why do you stop?" asked Dr. Miles.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A Miss Charlotte Hay," continued Beauchamp, with an evident effort, -"a very beautiful person, and highly accomplished. She was some four -or five years older than myself, I believe, affecting a romantic style -of thought, feeling, and language. She was beautiful, I have said; but -hers was not the style of beauty I admired, and at first I took but -little notice of her. She sang well, however, and before the first -evening was over, we had talked a good deal--the more, perhaps, as I -found that most of the ladies present, though of no very high station, -nor particularly refined manners, did not seem to love her -conversation. It appeared to me that she was superior to them; and -when I found that, though of good family, her fortune was extremely -limited, and that she had resided with old Miss Moreton for some time, -as something between a friend and a companion, I fancied I understood -the coldness I observed on the part of more wealthy people. Many days -passed over, during which she certainly endeavoured to attract and -captivate me. I was in general somewhat on my guard; but I was then -young, inexperienced, vain, romantic; and though I never dreamed of -making her my wife, yet I trifled away many an hour by her side, -feeling passion growing upon me--mark, I say passion, not love; for -there was much that prevented me from respecting her enough to love -her--a display of her person, a carelessness of proprieties, an -occasional gleam of perverted principle, that no art could hide. Once -or twice, too, I caught a smile passing between her and my cousin -Moreton, which I did not like, and whenever that occurred it recalled -me to myself; but, with weak facility, I fell back again till the day -of my departure approached. Two or three days before the time -appointed--on the eleventh of August, which was my twenty-first -birth-day--Miss Moreton declared she would have a party of her -neighbours to celebrate the event. None of the higher and more -respectable gentry were invited, or, if they were, they did not come. -There were a good many deep-drinking lairds, and some of their wives -and daughters, somewhat stiff in their graver, and hoydenish in their -merrier, moments. It is one of those days that the heart longs for -years to blot out for ever. I gave way to the high spirits which were -then habitual to me. I drank deep--deeper than I had ever before done. -I suffered my brain to be troubled--I know not that there were not -unfair means used to effect it--but at all events, I was not myself. I -recollect personally little that passed; but I have since heard that I -was called upon to choose a wife for the afternoon. I was told it was -the custom of the country, on such occasions, so to do in sport; and -that I fixed, at once, upon this artful girl--in the presence of many -witnesses, I called her wife and she called me husband. The evening -passed over; I drank more wine at supper, and the next morning I found -myself married--for the infamous fraud they called a marriage. In -horror and dismay, I burst away from the wretched woman who had lent -herself to such a base transaction. I sent off my servant at once for -horses to my carriage--I cast Moreton from me, who attempted to stop -and reason with me, as he called it, representing that what had taken -place was a full and sufficient marriage, according to the code of -Scotland, for that public consent was all that was required by their -law."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Or by the law of God either," replied Dr. Miles, "but it must be free -and intelligent consent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I travelled night and day," continued Beauchamp, rapidly, "till I had -reached my father's house and thrown myself at his feet. I told him -all--I extenuated, concealed nothing; and I shall never forget either -his kindness or his distress of mind. Instant steps were taken to -ascertain the exact position in which I stood; and the result was -fatal to my hopes of happiness and peace; for not only did he find -that I was entangled past recall, but that the character of the woman -herself was such as might be expected from her having been a party to -so disgraceful a scheme. She had been blighted by scandal before she -took up her residence in the house where I found her. Miss Moreton in -her dotage, yielded herself blindly to my cousin's guidance; and there -was more than a suspicion that he had made his aunt's protection a -veil to screen his own paramour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What did you do? what did you do?" asked Dr. Miles, with more -eagerness than he usually displayed; "it was a hard case, indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I went abroad immediately," replied Beauchamp, "for my father exacted -from me a solemn promise, never to live with or to see if it could be -avoided, the woman who had thus become my wife. He used strong and -bitter, but just terms in speaking of her. 'He could not survive the -thought,' he said, 'that the children of a prostitute should succeed -to the title of a family without stain.' My promise was given -willingly, for I will confess that hate and indignation and disgust -rendered her very idea odious to me. My father remained in England for -some months, promising to make such arrangements regarding money--the -base object of the whole conspiracy--that I should never be troubled -any more. He added tenderly, and sadly, though gravely and firmly, -that farther he could do nothing; for that I must bear the -consequences of one great error in a solitary and companionless life. -In consideration of a promise on the woman's part never to molest me, -nor to take my name, he settled upon her the sum of a thousand per -annum. During my father's life I heard no more of her; but when he -himself joined me in Italy, I could see but too plainly how grief and -bitter disappointment had undermined a constitution already shaken. He -did not long survive, and all that I have myself undergone has been -little, compared with the thought, that the consequences of my own -folly served to shorten the days of my kind good parent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what became of the woman?" demanded Dr. Miles. "You surely have -had tidings of her since."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Within a month after my father's death," replied Beauchamp, "I -received from her one of the most artful letters that woman ever -wrote, claiming to be received as my wife. But I will not trouble you -with the details. Threats succeeded to blandishments, and I treated -these with contempt as I had the others with coldness. Then commenced -a new system of persecution; she followed me, attempted to fix herself -upon me. Once she arrived at an inn in the Tyrol as I was getting into -my carriage, and declared before the people round that she was my -abandoned wife. I answered not a word, but ordered the door to be -closed, and the postillions to drive on. Then came applications for an -increased annuity, but I would not yield one step, knowing that it -would but lead to others, and in the end to free myself from every day -annoyance I took the name of Beauchamp, hurried on to the East, -directed my agent to conceal my address from every one, and for -several years wandered far and wide. At length the tidings reached me -that the annuity which had at first been punctually demanded, had not -been applied for. A report, too, reached my lawyer's ears that she had -died in Paris. Still I would not return to claim my rank lest there -should be some deep scheme at work, and I continued in India and Syria -for two years longer. The annuity remained unclaimed. I knew that she -had expensive habits and no means, and I ventured back. I passed a few -months in London without resuming my own name; but the noise and -bustle of the great city wearied me, and I came hither. Inquiries in -the mean time had been made, somewhat languidly, perhaps, to ascertain -the fate of this unhappy woman; but here I saw Isabella Slingsby, and -those inquiries have been since pursued rapidly and strictly. Every -answer tended to one result, and four days ago I received a letter -from my solicitor, informing me that there can be no doubt of her -demise. I will show it to you hereafter, but therein he says that her -effects in Paris had been publicly sold, as those of a person -deceased, to pay the claims of her maid, who had brought forward -sufficient proofs to satisfy the police that her mistress had died in -Italy. The girl herself could not be found, but the lawyers consider -this fact, coupled with the total cessation of claims for the annuity, -as proving the death of Charlotte Hay, and removing all doubt that -this bitter bond is cancelled for ever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is clear, that is clear," said Dr. Miles, who at this moment was -pausing with his companion at a stile, "and now, I suppose, it is hand -and heart for Isabella Slingsby."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Assuredly," said Beauchamp, "but she must be informed of all this; -and it is not a tale for me to tell."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will you have the kindness, Sir," said a voice from the other side of -the hedge, as Beauchamp put his foot upon the first step of the stile, -"to keep on that side and go out by the gate at the corner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, is that you in the ditch, Stephen?" said Beauchamp, "very well, -my good man; one way is as good as the other."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am watching something here, Sir," said the gamekeeper, In a low -voice, "and if you come over, you'll disturb the thing."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp nodded, and went on in the way he directed; and Doctor -Miles, who had been meditating, replied to what he had said just -before the interruption of the gamekeeper.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But who else can do it? Sir John is unfit. Me, you would have? Humph! -It is not a pleasant story for even an old gentleman to tell to a -young lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet she must know it," answered Beauchamp; "I will--I can have no -concealment from her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Assuredly, there you are right," replied Doctor Miles, "and I am sure -the dear girl will value your sincerity properly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She can but say that I committed a great error," answered Beauchamp, -"and for that error I have been punished by long years of bitterness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, I will do my best," answered the rector; "but make your -proposal first, and refer her to me for the story of your life. I will -deal in generals--I will not go into details. That you can do -hereafter if you like."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus conversing they walked on, and soon after reached the cottage of -Stephen Gimlet, where they found Ned Hayward beginning to feel relief -from the operation which the surgeon had performed in the morning. -Beauchamp returned to him the sum which he had received from Miss -Slingsby in the morning, saying, that he had found no necessity for -using it, and Doctor Miles sat down by him, and talked with cheerful -kindness for about a quarter of an hour. Was it tact and a clear -perception of people's hearts that led the worthy clergyman to select -Mary Clifford for one of the subjects of his discourse, and to enlarge -upon her high qualities? At all events he succeeded in raising Captain -Hayward's spirits ere he set out again upon his way homeward.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he descended he found Gimlet, the gamekeeper, seated with Widow -Lamb, and the man, as he opened the door, apologised for having -stopped the rector and Mr. Beauchamp at the stile, but did not state -in what he had been so busily engaged. As soon, however, as Doctor -Miles was gone, Ste Gimlet resumed his conversation with Mrs. Lamb, -and it was a low-toned and eager one. From time to time the old lady -bowed her head, saying, "Yes;" but she added nothing to the -monosyllable for some time. At length, however, in answer to something -that her son-in-law said, she exclaimed,</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Stephen, do not speak with him about it. I tried it this morning, -and it had a terrible effect upon him. It seemed to change him -altogether, and made him, so kind and gentle as he is, quite fierce -and sharp. Speak with his friend, Captain Hayward; for neither you nor -I can know what all this may mean. But above all, watch well, for it -is clear they are about no good, and tell me always what you hear and -see, for I cannot help thinking that I know more of these matters than -the young lord does himself--a bitter bond, did he call it? Well, it -may be a bond for the annuity you heard him talk of; but then why does -she not claim it? There must be some object, Stephen."</p> - -<p class="normal">The good old lady's consideration of the subject was prevented at that -moment from proceeding further by the entrance of her son Billy Lamb, -who came up and kissed her affectionately. The lad was somewhat pale, -and there was an air of fatigue in his small pinched, but intelligent -countenance, which made his mother hold him to her heart with a -feeling of painful anxiety. Oh! how the affections of a parent twine -themselves round a suffering child! Every care, every labour, every -painful apprehension that he causes us seems but a new bond to bind -our love the more strongly to him. The attachment that is dewed with -tears and hardened with the cold air of sorrow and fear, is ever the -more hardy plant.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sit down, Bill," said Stephen Gimlet, kindly, "you look tired, my -lad. I will get you a draught of beer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot wait, Ste," answered the pot-boy, "for I must be back as -quick as I can; but I can look in to see mother for a minute every day -now. The gentleman who has got the little lone cottage on the edge of -Chandliegh Heath, gives me half-a-crown a week to bring up his letters -and newspapers, and I take the time when all the folks are at dinner -in our house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And get no dinner yourself, poor Bill," said Stephen Gimlet; "cut him -a slice of the cold bacon, mother, and a hunch of bread. He can eat it -as he goes. I'll run and draw him a draught of beer. It won't keep you -a minute, Bill, and help you on too."</p> - -<p class="normal">He waited for no reply, but ran with a jug in his hand to the outhouse -where his beer-barrel stood. When he came back the boy drank eagerly, -kissed the old lady again, and then set out with the bread and bacon -in his hand; but Stephen Gimlet walked out with him, and after they -had taken a few steps, he asked,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is it, Bill, has got the cottage?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know," answered the lad. "A tall, strong man he is, with -large whiskers all the way under his chin, a little grayish. He met me -last night when I took up a parcel from Mr. ---- to Burton's inn, and -asked if I came that way every day. I said I did not, but could come -if he wanted any thing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you must know his name if you get his letters, Bill?" said -Gimlet.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I do not, but I soon can," answered the deformed youth. "He took -me into the cottage, and made the lady give him some paper and a pen -and ink, and wrote a note to the postmaster, and gave me a half-crown, -and said I should have the same every week. The postmaster wrapped up -the letters and things in a bit of paper, and I did not think to look -in; but I can soon find out if you want to know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," answered Stephen Gimlet, drily, "I know already. Well, Bill, -good bye, I must go about my work," and so they parted.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">I beg Captain Moreton's pardon, I left him running across a field in -not the brightest possible night that ever shone. I should, at least, -have taken him safely home before now wherever that home might be, -which would be indeed difficult to say, for the home of Captain -Moreton was what people who pore over long lines of figures call a -<i>variable quantity</i>. However, there was once, at least there is -reported to have been once, for I do not take upon myself to answer -for the fact, a certain young person called Galanthis. She was a maid -of-all-work in a very reputable Greek family, and was called as a -witness in the famous crim. con. case of Amphitryon <i>versus</i> Jupiter. -She proved herself very skilful in puzzling an examining counsel, and -there is an old nonsensical story of her having been changed into a -weasel to commemorate the various turnings and windings of her -prevarications. Nevertheless, not this convenient Abigail, nor any of -her pliant race, ever took more turnings and windings than did Captain -Moreton on the night after his escape from his prison in the vestry. -Every step of the country round he knew well, and up one narrow lane, -through this small field, along that wood path, by another short cut, -he went, sometimes walking and sometimes running, till at length he -came to a common of no very great extent, lying half-way, or nearly -so, between the town of Tarningham and the house called Burton's Inn. -The common was called Chandleigh Heath; and on the side next to the -inn was the village of Chandleigh, while between the heath and -Tarningham lay about two miles of well-cultivated but not very -populous fields and meadows. At an angle of the common a retired -hosier of Chandleigh had built himself a cottage--a cottage suited to -himself and his state--consisting of six rooms, all of minute size, -and he had, moreover, planted himself a garden, in which roses strove -with apple-trees and cherries. The hosier--as retired hosiers will -very often do--died one day, and left the cottage to his nephew, a -minor. The guardians strove to let the cottage furnished, but for -upwards of a year they strove in vain; its extremely retired situation -was against it, till one day it was suddenly tenanted, and right glad -were they to get a guinea a week and ask no questions. It was to this -retired cottage, then of the retired hosier, that Captain Moreton's -steps were ultimately bent, and as it had windows down to the ground -on the garden side, he chose that side, and went in at the window, -where, I forgot to remark, there were lights shining.</p> - -<p class="normal">At a table in the room, with her foot upon a footstool, and a pillow -behind her back, sat a lady whom we have before described; and -certainly, to look at her face, handsome as it was, no one would have -fancied there was a fierce and fiery spirit beneath, so weak and, I -mar venture to call it, lackadaisical was the expression.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven, Moreton, how you startled me!" cried the lady: "where have -you been such a long time? You know I want society at night. It is -only at night I am half alive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well," said Captain Moreton, with a laugh, "I have been half dead and -half buried; for I have been down into a vault and shut up in a vestry -as a close prisoner. I only got out by wrenching off the bars. Nobody -could see my face, however, so that is lucky; for they can but say I -was looking at a register by candlelight, and the old sexton will not -peach for his own sake."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Still at those rash tricks, Moreton," said the lady, "it will end in -your getting hanged, depend upon it. I have been writing a poem called -'The Rash Man,' and I was just hanging him when you came in and -startled me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My rash tricks, as you call them, got you a thousand a year once," -answered Moreton, sharply, "so, in pity, leave your stupid poetry, -Charlotte, and listen to what I have to say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stupid poetry!" exclaimed the lady, angrily. "There was a time when -you did not call it so; and as for the thousand a year, it was more to -save yourself than to serve me that you fancied that scheme. You know -that I hated the pedantic boy, as virtuous as a young kid, and as -pious as his grandmother's prayer-book. Nothing would have induced me -to marry him if you had not represented--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, never mind all that," answered Captain Moreton, interrupting -her. "We have something else to think of now, Charlotte. I don't know -that it would not be better for me to be off, after all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I am ready to go whenever you like," replied the lady. "I am -sure it is not very pleasant to stay in this place, seeing nobody and -hearing nothing; without opera, or concert, or coffee-house, or any -thing. I shall be very glad to go."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Aye, aye, but that is a different matter," said Captain Moreton, -considerately. "I said it would be perhaps better for me to be off; -but I am quite sure it would be better for you to stay."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady looked at him for a moment or two with the eyes of a tiger. -If she had had a striped or spotted skin upon her back one would have -expected her to spring at his throat the next minute, but she had -acquired a habit of commanding her passions to a certain point, beyond -which, they indeed became totally ungovernable, but which was not yet -attained; and she contented herself with giving Captain Moreton one of -those <i>coups de patte</i> with which she sometimes treated him. "So, -Moreton," she said, "you think that you can go away and leave me to -take care of myself, as you did some time ago; but you are mistaken, -my good friend. I have become wiser now, and I certainly shall not -suffer you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How will you stop me?" asked her companion, turning sharply upon her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As to stopping you," she replied, with a sneer, "I do not know that I -can. You are a strong man and I am a weak woman, and in a tussle you -would get the better; but I could bring you back, Moreton, you know, -if I did not stop you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How?" demanded he again, looking fiercely at her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By a magistrate's warrant, and half a dozen constables," answered the -lady. "You do not think I have had so much experience of your amiable -ways for nothing, or that I have not taken care to have proofs of a -good many little things that would make you very secure in any country -but America--that dear land of liberty, where fraud and felony find -refuge and protection."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you mean to say that you would destroy me, woman?" exclaimed -Captain Moreton.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not exactly destroy you," replied his fair companion, "though you -would make a fine criminal under the beam. I have not seen an -execution for I do not know how long, and it is a fine sight, after -all--better than all the tragedies that ever were written. It is no -fun seeing men kill each other in jest: one knows that they come to -life again as soon as the curtain falls; but once hanging over the -drop, or lying on the guillotine, there's no coming to life any more. -I should like to see you hanged, Moreton, when you are hanged. You -would hang very well, I dare say."</p> - -<p class="normal">She spoke in the quietest, most sugary tone possible, with a slight -smile upon her lip, and amused herself while she did so in sketching -with the pen and ink a man under a beam with a noose round his neck. -Captain Moreton gazed at her meanwhile with his teeth hard shut, and -not the most placable countenance in the world, as she brought vividly -up before his imagination all those things which crime is too much -accustomed and too willing to forget.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you, Charlotte, you would do this!" he exclaimed, at length: "but -it is all nonsense; and how you ever can talk of such things I cannot -imagine, when I merely spoke of going myself and leaving you for a -short time, for your own good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For my own good! Oh, yes; I have heard all that before, more than -twelve years ago," replied the lady. "I yielded to your notions of my -own good, then, and much good has come of it, to me, at least. So do -not talk of ever separating your fate from mine again, Moreton; for -were you to attempt it, I would do as I have said, depend upon it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was your own good I thought about," replied Captain Moreton, -bitterly, "and that you will soon see when you hear the whole. Do you -not think if Lenham were to find out that you are living here with me, -there would soon be suits in the ecclesiastical courts for divorce and -all the rest?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, you know, we talked about all that before," replied the lady, -"and took our precautions. You are here as my earliest friend, -assisting me to regain my rights, nothing more. All that was settled -long ago, and I see no reason for beginning it all over again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But there is a reason," answered Captain Moreton, "as you would have -heard before now if you would have let me speak; but you are so -diabolically hasty and violent. I brought you the best news you could -have, if you would but listen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" said the lady, looking up from the pleasant sketch she was -finishing with an expression of greater interest, "what may that be?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, simply, that Lenham has proposed to Miss Slingsby," replied -Captain Moreton, "and they are to be married directly--as soon as that -fellow, Wittingham, is out of all danger."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her eyes flashed at the intelligence, and her lip curled with a -triumphant smile as she inquired, "Where did you hear it? Who told -you? Are you sure?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite," answered Moreton, "I had it from old Slattery, the -apothecary, who knows the secrets of all the houses round. He told it -to me as a thing quite certain."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I have him! Then I have him!" exclaimed his companion, joyfully; -"Oh, I will make him drink the very dregs of a bitterer cup than ever -he has held to my lips."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you must be very careful," said Captain Moreton, "not the -slightest indiscretion--not the slightest hint, remember, or all is -lost."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will be careful," she replied, "but yet all cannot be lost even if -he were to discover that I am alive. He has made the proposal to one -woman when he is already married. That would be disgrace enough to -blast and wither him like a leaf in the winter. I know him well enough -for that. For the first time he has given me the power of torturing -him, and I will work that engine till his cold heart cracks, let him -do what he will."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, this was the reason I thought it would be better for me to be -off for a short time," said Captain Moreton, "though you must remain -here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't see that," cried the lady, "I won't have it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her companion had fallen into a fit of thought, however, as soon as -she had uttered the last words, and he did not seem to attend to her. -His thoughts, indeed, were busy with a former part of their -conversation. He felt that he was, as she said, in her power, and he -saw very well how sweetly and delicately she was inclined to use power -when she did possess it. He therefore asked himself if it might not be -as well to put some check upon her violence before it hurried her into -any thing that could not be repaired; for although Captain Moreton was -fond of a little vengeance himself, yet he loved security better, and -thought it would be poor consolation for being hanged that he had -spoiled all her fine schemes. He was still debating this point in his -own mind, when finding that he did not answer, she said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you hear? I say I will not have it, and you had better not talk of -it any more, for if I take it into my head that you are trying to get -off and leave me here, I will take very good care that your first walk -shall be into gaol."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In which case," said Captain Moreton, coldly, "I would, by one word, -break the bond between you and Lenham, and send you to prison too. You -think that I am totally in your power, Madam; but let me tell you that -you are in mine also. Our confidence, it is true, has not been mutual, -but our secrets are so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do you mean?" exclaimed the lady, turning deadly pale.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will tell you," replied her companion, "what I mean may be soon -hinted so that you can understand. When I first became acquainted with -you, my fair friend, you were twenty years of age. There were events -which happened when you were eighteen that you have always thought -comfortably hidden in your own bosom and that of one other. Let me now -tell you that they have never been concealed from me. You understand -me I see by your face, so no more of this. I shall not go because you -do not wish it, and I proposed it only for your good; but now let us -have some brandy-and-water, for the night is wonderfully cold for the -season."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady made no reply, but sat looking down at the table with -her cheek still white, and Moreton got up and rang the bell. A -woman-servant appeared, received his orders, and then went away, and -then turning to his companion, he pulled her cheek familiarly, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, Charlotte, let us have no more of all this; we had better get -on well together. Have any of the servants been into the room to-night -since I left you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady looked up with a sort of bewildered and absent air, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I think not--let me see. No, no. I have been sitting writing and -sleeping. I fell asleep for an hour, and then I wrote till you came -back. No one has been in, I am sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"While you were asleep they might," said Moreton, thoughtfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," she answered, "I should have heard them instantly; I wake in -a moment, you know, with the least sound. Nobody has been in the room -I will swear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you can swear, too, that I never left it," answered Moreton, -laughing, "I mean that I have been here or hereabouts all night, in -case it should be needed."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady did not seem at all shocked at the proposal, for she had no -great opinion of the sanctity of oaths, and when the servant returned -with all that Captain Moreton had demanded, he asked her sharply,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where were you, Kitty, when I rang about an hour ago?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord, Sir," replied the woman, "I had only run across to ask why they -had not sent my beer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I wish you would take some other time for going on such -errands," replied Captain Moreton, and there the subject dropped.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp took care to be back at Tarningham Park a full hour and a -half before dinner-time; but schemes and purposes of making love or a -declaration at a certain place and time are never successful. -Continually they are put off, and very often they are forced on by -circumstances, and although there is no event of life perhaps in which -the happy moment is more important, it is seldom met with or chosen. -Such was the case in the present instance: Sir John Slingsby played -third on one occasion, Mrs. Clifford on another, and when Mary, dear -considerate girl, after breaking in for a moment, made a very -reasonable excuse to retire, the dressing-bell rang as she closed the -door, and Beauchamp, knowing that he could not detain Miss Slingsby -more than five minutes, would not attempt to crowd all he had to say -into so short a space. He was resolved to say something, however, and -as Isabella was about to leave him he stopped her, asking if she knew -that her father had invited him to pass the night there.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, of course," answered his fair companion in a gay tone, "you do -not think he would let you go to pass the hours of darkness amongst -the Goths and Vandals of Tarningham. He would be afraid of your life -being attempted. You do not think of going?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have accepted his invitation," answered her lover, "because I have -several things to talk over with Sir John, and on one subject also -with you, dear lady. Will you give me some time in the course of -to-morrow--a few minutes--nay, perhaps, an hour, alone?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella coloured and looked away; but she was thankful for a -reprieve from immediate agitation, and she replied in a low tone, -"Certainly--but I must go and dress or my maid will be impatient."</p> - -<p class="normal">But Beauchamp still detained her for a moment, "You are an early -riser, I think," he said, "will you take a walk before breakfast--down -towards the stream?--Nay, Isabella, why should you hesitate? Remember, -I have a history to give."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope not a sad one," answered Isabella, gaily, "for I think I -should be easily moved to tears just now, and I must not return with -my eyes red--nay, Beauchamp, let me go or I shall cry now."</p> - -<p class="normal">He released the hand he had taken instantly, and Miss Slingsby took a -step away, but looked round, and returning at once, gave it back -again, saying more gravely, "What is the use of any long history?--and -yet it had better be too. I will take a walk with you when you like, -for I must speak with you too--but not now: there's no time. So -farewell for the present," and she left him.</p> - -<p class="normal">The dinner passed more quietly than Sir John Slingsby's dinners -usually did. The baronet's spirits, which had risen immensely after -the first pressure was taken off, fell again during the course of the -day; and for the first time in his life, perhaps, he was grave and -thoughtful throughout the evening. Isabella had her store of -meditations, and so had Mary Clifford. The mother of the latter was -calm and sedate as usual; and Doctor Miles dry and sententious; so -that Beauchamp, happy in what he had done, and happy in the confidence -of love, was now the gayest of the party. Thus the evening passed -away, though not sadly, any thing but very merrily; and the whole -party retired early to rest.</p> - -<p class="normal">The next morning early Beauchamp rose and went down to the -drawing-room, but there was nobody there. One of the housemaids just -passed out as he entered, and he waited for about a quarter of an hour -with some impatience, gazing forth from the windows over the dewy -slopes of the park, and thinking in his heart that Isabella was -somewhat long. Now, to say the truth, she was longer than she might -have been, for Isabella had been up and dressed some time; but there -was a sort of hesitation, a timidity, a weak feeling of alarm, -perhaps, which she had never known before. She shrank from the idea of -going down to meet him, knowing that he was waiting for her. It would -seem like a secret arrangement between them, she thought, and she took -fright at the very idea. Then again, on the other hand, she fancied he -might imagine she was treating him ill not to go, after the sort of -promise she had made; then he had been so kind, so generous, so noble, -that she could not treat him ill, nay not even by the appearance of a -caprice. That settled the matter; and, after about a quarter of an -hour's debating with herself, down she went. Her heart beat terribly; -but Isabella was a girl, who, with all her gaiety and apparent -lightness, had great command over herself; and that command in her -short life had been often tried. She paused then for a moment or two -at the door of the drawing-room, struggled with and overcame her -agitation, and then went in with a face cleared, a light step, and a -cheerful air. Her hand was in Beauchamp's in a moment, and after a few -of the ordinary words of a first morning meeting, he asked, "Will you -take a walk, dear Isabella, or shall we remain here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you not see bonnet on my head and shawl over my arm?" she said in -a gay tone; "who would stay in the house on such a bright morning as -this when they have a free hour before them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, then," he answered, and in two minutes more they were walking -away together towards the wooded hill through which they had passed -with Mary Clifford and Hayward about three weeks before.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is strange how silent people are when they have much to say to each -other. For the first quarter of a mile neither Beauchamp nor Isabella -said a word; but at length, when the boughs began to wave over their -heads, he laid his hand gently upon hers, and said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think there can be no misunderstanding, Isabella, as to the words I -spoke the night before last. Nor must you think me possessed of a very -eager vanity if I have construed your reply as favourable to myself. I -know you too well not to feel assured that you would not have so -answered me had you been inclined to decide against my hopes. But yet, -Isabella, I will not and do not consider you as plighted to me by the -words then spoken till--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is just what I was going to say," replied Isabella, much to -Beauchamp's consternation; "I wished much to speak with you for the -very purpose of assuring you that I do not consider you in the least -bound by what you then said."</p> - -<p class="normal">She spoke with a great effort for calmness, but there was an anxious -trembling of the voice which betrayed her agitation, and in the end -she paused for breath.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hear me, hear me," she said, as she saw Beauchamp about to reply; -"since that night every thing has changed. I then thought my father -embarrassed, but I did not know him to be ruined. I looked upon you as -Mr. Beauchamp; I now find you of a rank superior to our own, one who -may well look to rank and fortune in his bride. You, too, were -ignorant of the sad state of my poor father's affairs. It is but fair, -then, it is but right that I should set you entirely free from any -implied engagement made in a moment of generous thoughtlessness; and I -do so entirely, nor will ever for a moment think you do aught amiss if -you consider better, more wisely, I will say, of this matter; and let -all feelings between us subside into kind friendship on your part, and -gratitude and esteem upon mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You set me free!" said Beauchamp, repeating her words with a smile, -"how can you do so? My dear Isabella, this is treacherous of you, to -talk of setting me free even while you are binding me heart and spirit -to you more strongly than ever. Not one word more upon that subject, -my beloved girl. You must not teach me that you think I am so sordid, -so pitiful a being to let a consideration of mere fortune, where I -have more than plenty weigh with me, for one moment--I am yours, -Isabella, if you will take me--yours for ever, loving you deeply, -truly, aye, and understanding you fully, too, which so many do not: -but it is I who must set you free, dear girl; and I will not ask, I -will not receive any promise till you have heard the story of my past -life."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you must have it," said Isabella, raising her dewy eyes with a -smile, "these things must ever be mutual, my lord. I am yours or you -are not mine. But Beauchamp, we are coquetting with each other; you -tell me you love me; I, like all foolish girls, believe. Surely there -is no need of any other story but that. Do you suppose, Beauchamp, -that after all I have seen of you, after all you have done, I can -imagine for one moment, that there is any thing in the past which -could make me change my opinion or withhold my hand? No, no, a woman's -confidence, when it is given, is unbounded--at least, mine is so in -you, and I need not hear any tale of past days before I bind myself to -you by that tie which, to every right mind, must seem as strong as a -vow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thanks, dearest girl, thanks!" answered her lover, "but yet you must -hear the story; not from my lips, perhaps, for it will be better -communicated to you by another; and I have commissioned good Dr. Miles -to tell you all, for I would not have it said or thought hereafter, by -your father or by any one, that I have had even the slightest -concealment from you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not to me! not to me!" said Isabella eagerly, and then added, -laughing, "I will not listen to the good doctor; if there is any thing -that must be said let it be told to my father."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp smiled and shook his head. "You will think me sadly -obstinate and exciting," he said, "but yet you must grant me as a -favour, Isabella, that which I ask. Listen to our worthy friend the -rector. His tale will not be very long; for many sad things may be -told in a few words, and an account of events which have embittered my -whole existence till within the few last days can be given in five -minutes. I will tell Sir John myself, but the reason why I so -earnestly wish you to hear all too, is, that no man can ever judge -rightly of the finer feelings of a woman's heart. We cannot tell how -things which affect us in one way, may affect her; and as there can be -no perfect love without perfect confidence, you must share all that is -in my bosom, in the past as well as in the future."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well," said Isabella, smiling, "as to obey is to be one of my vows, -Beauchamp, I may as well begin my task at once. I will listen to the -good doctor, though I confess it is unwillingly; but still, whatever -he says it will make no difference."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp replied not to what she said; but the conversation took -another and a sweeter turn, and as the words they spoke were certainly -not intended to be repeated to the world I will not repeat them. Time -flies swiftly when love's pinions are added to his own, and Isabella -coloured when passing the windows of the breakfast-room on their -return, she saw the whole party assembled and Mary occupying her usual -post. While Beauchamp entered and took the first fire of the enemy, -she ran up to her room to lay aside her walking-dress; but Sir John -was merciless, and the moment she came in assailed her with an -exclamation of "Ha, ha, young lady! Early walks and morning rambles, -making all your friends believe you have eloped! I hope you have had a -pleasant walk, Isabella, with this noble lord. Pray were you talking -politics?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Profound!" answered his daughter, with a gay air, though she could -not keep the blood from mounting into her cheek.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And what conclusion did you come to on the state of affairs in -general?" continued Sir John, looking from Isabella to Beauchamp. "Is -there to be peace or war?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"First a truce," answered Beauchamp, "and then a lasting peace, the -terms of which are to be settled by plenipotentiaries hereafter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh!" said Sir John Slingsby, now for the first time comprehending how -far matters had proceeded between his daughter and his guest, and -giving up the jest he remained in thought for some time.</p> - -<p class="normal">When breakfast was over and the party had risen, Beauchamp at once -took his host's arm, saying, in a low tone, "Before any other -business, I must crave a few moments' conversation, Sir John."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Certainly, certainly," said Sir John Slingsby aloud; and while Mary -Clifford put her arm through Isabella's, with a heart full of kindly -wishes and hopes for her cousin, the baronet led his friend into the -library, and their conference commenced. As might be expected, -Beauchamp met no coldness on the part of Sir John Slingsby; but after -a hearty shake of the hand, an eulogium well deserved upon his -daughter, and an expression of his entire satisfaction and consent, -the baronet's ear was claimed for the tale of Beauchamp's previous -life. It did not produce the effect he expected; for although he had -some acquaintance with Sir John's character and habits, he certainly -did not anticipate the bursts of laughter with which the old gentleman -listened to events which had rendered him miserable. But there are two -sides to every thing, and Sir John had all his life taken the risible -point of view of all subjects. He laughed then, heartily declared it -an exceedingly good joke, but no marriage at all; and it was only when -he found that counsel learned in the law had pronounced it to be -valid, that he began to look at the matter more seriously. As soon, -however, as he heard the intelligence which Beauchamp had lately -received from Paris, he started up from his chair, exclaiming, "Well, -then, she is dead and that's an end of it. So now I congratulate you, -my dear lord, and say that the sooner the marriage is over the better. -I shall tell Isabella so, and she has no affectations, thank God. But -come, let us go to her. I must kiss her and give her my blessing."</p> - -<p class="normal">The whole conversation had occupied nearly an hour, and when Sir John -Slingsby and Beauchamp entered the drawing-room they found it only -tenanted by Isabella and good Doctor Miles. Her face was uncommonly -serious, one might say sad, and the worthy clergyman's was not gay.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it, doctor?" cried Sir John Slingsby, "you look as grave as -ten judges. Whose cat is dead?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"James Thomson's," said Dr. Miles drily, "and thereupon I wish to -speak with you, Sir John, for I suppose you will attend the funeral."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are a funny fellow, Doctor Miles," replied the baronet; "I'll -talk to you in a minute, but I must first give my daughter a kiss--the -first she has had this morning, for she played truant, and is going to -do so again." So saying, he pressed his lips upon Isabella's cheek, -and whispered a few words that made her colour vary, and then linking -his arm in that of Dr. Miles, led him from the room, leaving his -daughter and her lover alone together.</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella's face looked sadder and graver than Beauchamp had ever seen -it; and to say the truth his heart began to beat somewhat uneasily, -especially as for a moment or two she did not speak, but remained with -her eyes bent down. "Isabella," he said at length, "Isabella, you look -very sad."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How can I be otherwise, Beauchamp," asked the fair girl, holding out -her hand to him, "when I have just heard a narrative of events which -have embittered all your life? I grieve for you very truly, indeed, -and sympathise with you as much as a woman can do, with one placed in -circumstances in which she could never find herself. But indeed, -Beauchamp, it shall be the pleasant task of my whole life to make you -forget these past sorrows."</p> - -<p class="normal">His hand clasped more warmly upon hers as she spoke, and in the end he -sat down by her on the sofa; his arm glided round her waist and his -lips were pressed upon hers. She had not the slightest touch of Miss -Biron about her, and though she blushed a little she was not horrified -or shocked in the least.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you do not blame?" he said, "and notwithstanding all this, you -are mine, dearest girl?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why should I blame you?" said Isabella with a smile, "you were not -the person in fault--except, perhaps, in having drunk too much wine -once in your life; and I suppose that is what all young men do, and -old men too, very often; but the punishment has certainly far exceeded -the offence; and as to being yours, Beauchamp, you know that I am--or -at least will be when you wish it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp took her at her word, and that evening there were grand -consultations upon many things. Sir John Slingsby was a hasty man, and -he liked every thing done hastily. Love or murder, strife or -matrimony, he would have it over in a hurry. Isabella, Mrs. Clifford, -Mary, were all overruled, and as Beauchamp submitted to his fate as -determined by Sir John without a murmur, the marriage was appointed -for that day fortnight.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXV.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">How quietly one sits down to tell events in a tale like this, which -made a vast sensation at the time they happened. One reason, I -believe, why half the romances and almost all the histories in the -world are so exceedingly dull, is, that the people who write them do -not believe that the things they record actually happened--no, not -even in their histories. They have a faint idea that it may have been -so--some notion that such matters did very likely take place; but not -that firm conviction, that deep and life-like impression of the -transactions which they relate, that gives vivid identity to the -narrative. There is always a doubt about history, which hangs round -and fetters the mind of the writer, and is even increased by the -accuracy of his research. There is some link in the evidence wanting, -some apparent partiality in the contemporary chronicler, some -prejudice on the part of the near teller of the tale, which casts a -suspicion over all. We cannot cross-examine men who died a thousand -years ago, and we sit down and ask with Pilate, "What is truth?" The -romance-writer has a great advantage. He has the truth within himself. -All the witnesses are there in his own bosom. Experience supplies the -facts which observation has collected, and imagination arrays and -adorns them. In fact, I believe that philosophically speaking, a -romance is much truer than a history. If it be not it will produce but -little effect upon the mind of the reader. The author, however, must -not sit down to write it coolly, as a mere matter of composition. He -must believe it, he must feel it, he must think of nothing but telling -the truth--aye, reader, the truth of the creatures of his own -imagination. It must be all truth to him, and he must give that truth -to the world. As they act, think, speak, in his own mind, so must they -act, think, and speak to the public; and according to his own powers -of imagining the truth, regarding certain characters, so will he tell -a truthful tale or a mere cold fiction.</p> - -<p class="normal">All the events which had taken place in Tarningham Park caused less -bustle, though, perhaps, more profound sensations amongst the inmates -of Sir John Slingsby's house than they did in the town and -neighbourhood. How Mrs. Atterbury of the Golden Star--it was a -hosier's shop--did marvel at all that had occurred! and how Miss -Henrietta Julia Thomlinson, the dress-maker, did first shudder at the -thought of Sir John Slingsby's total ruin, and then rejoice with a -glow of joy at the idea of Miss Slingsby's marriage to a peer <i>of the -realm</i>. Then, again, there was a little blear-eyed woman with white -cheeks, slightly marked with the small-pox, and a sharp nose of red, -who went about the town with an alarm bell in her mouth, spreading all -manner of stories regarding Sir John Slingsby and the whole of the -family at Tarningham Park. Miss Slingsby was actually sold, she said, -and the money given had gone to clear the baronet of a part of his -incumbrances; but she hinted that there was a heavy load behind and -declared decidedly that she should not like to have money out upon -such security. This lady proved an invaluable ally to Mr. Wharton; for -that gentleman did not stomach his disappointment comfortably. He -looked upon himself as very much ill-treated inasmuch as he had not -been permitted to fleece Sir John Slingsby down to the skin. He made -his own tale good, however, quietly, assured every body that -notwithstanding his own heavy claim, and the great likelihood that -there had existed of his losing many thousands of pounds, he should -never have thought of proceeding against his poor friend if he had not -heard that Mr. Wittingham had determined to arrest him for that heavy -debt. A person calling himself Lord Lenham, he said, had come to Sir -John's assistance, indeed, but he much feared that no assistance would -avail; and perhaps Miss Slingsby, though she was such a cunning -manœuverer, might find herself mistaken, for there was something -suspicious, very suspicious, about some parts of the affair. He did -not wish to say any thing unpleasant, but there was something -suspicious, very suspicious, and people might mark his words if they -liked.</p> - -<p class="normal">People did mark his words; and all set to work to inquire what the -suspicious circumstances were, so that what between inquiries and -answers, and hints, and inuendoes, and suspicions, and surmises, and -gossiping suggestions, and doubtful anecdotes, and pure lies, the -little town of Tarningham was kept in a state of most exceeding -chatter and bustle for several days and all day long, except at the -feeding time, when the streets returned to their silent tranquillity, -and not a soul was to be seen but poor little deformed Billy Lamb, -first carrying out his tray of foaming tankards, and then plodding up -the hill with a packet of letters and newspapers. As it is a fine day, -and those large heavy floating clouds give frequently a pleasant -shade, I do not see why we should not follow him up to Chandleigh -Heath. How quick the little fellow's long, disproportioned legs carry -his small round turkey-shaped body. But Billy Lamb must be going to -visit his mother after he has fulfilled his errand, or he would not -walk so fast this warm noontide. It is a round of six miles, yet he -will do it in an hour and a quarter. On my life he is already on the -heath. One can hardly keep up with him; and now he is at the cottage -garden-gate. What strange things poetical ideas are! and how unlike -reality! The poetical idea of a cottage, for instance, is rarely very -like truth. We take it and cover it with roses and surround it with -flowering shrubs. That may be all very well, for there are such -cottages; but then we strip it of all coarse attributes of life; we -take away the evils of poverty, and vulgarity, and vice, and leave it -nothing but content, and natural refinement, and calm innocence. It is -neither the scene of struggles against fortune, cold, fireless, -cheerless, often foodless, with want, smoke, and a dozen of children, -nor the prim false rosewood, bad pianoforted abode of retired -slopsellerism, nor the snug-embowered, back lane residence of the kept -mistress. There is no misery and repining there, no bad English and -gin-and-water, no quiet cabriolets and small tigers, black eyes, -ringlets, flutter, finery, and falsehood. It is all love and -roses--quarter of an acre of Paradise with a small house upon it. Such -is the poetical idea of a cottage.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such, however, was by no means the sort of cottage, the garden-gate of -which was now approached by Billy Lamb. It had been built by a coarse, -vulgar man, was inhabited by an arrant scoundrel; and there the arrant -scoundrel was walking in his small domain with the lady whom we have -more than once mentioned. He looked sharply round when he heard the -garden-gate squeak; but was perfectly composed at the sight of the -little pot-boy. The letters and papers he took, and looked at the -covers, and then, with an indifferent air, asked,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, my lad, what news is stirring in your little town?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not much, Sir," said Billy Lamb; "only about the marriage of the lord -and Miss Slingsby."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady's eyes flashed unpleasantly, and her companion inquired,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, what about that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing, Sir, but that it is to be on Monday week, they say," replied -Billy Lamb; "and all the people are as busy as possible about it, some -talking, and others working hard to get all ready; for Miss Isabella -will have every thing she can made in Tarningham."</p> - -<p class="normal">"D--d badly made they will be," answered the gentleman; "and what is -the lord about?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, nothing that I know of, Sir," rejoined the pot-boy, "only all his -people and things are coming down, carriages and horses, and that. The -yard is quite full of them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so it is to be on Monday week, is it?" rejoined Captain Moreton: -"well, the sooner, the better."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, yes," cried the lady, "and he may have guests at his marriage -that he does not expect."</p> - -<p class="normal">She spoke with an ungovernable burst of feeling, before her male -companion could stop her; and the boy suddenly raised his clear, -intelligent eyes to her countenance, discovering there legible traces -of all the furious passions that were at work in her bosom.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes," cried Moreton, endeavouring to give another turn to her -indiscreet words, and pressing her arm tight as a hint to hold her -tongue; "doubtless the whole town and neighbourhood will be there to -see."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, dear, yes, Sir," answered Billy Lamb; "though they say they wish -it to be quite private. Good morning, Sir," and he walked away with a -careless air, closing the garden-gate behind him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, ha, ha!" exclaimed the worthy captain, laughing aloud; "this is -capital, Charlotte. You see our trout has bit at the fly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I have got the hook in his jaws," said the lady, bitterly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," rejoined Captain Moreton; "and it is now high time that we -should consider, how we may play our fish to be best advantage. First -of all, of course, the marriage must take place, or he will slip off -your hook, my fair lady; but after that comes the game; and I think it -would be much better to make no great noise even afterwards, but to -give him proof positive of your existence; and, by working upon his -apprehensions, and laying him under contribution, we may drain him dry -as hay."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will have revenge," cried the lady, fiercely; "I care for nought -else, but I will have revenge; I will make him a public scoff and a -scorn; I will torture him in a court of justice; I will break his -proud heart under the world's contempt--try not to stop me, Moreton, -for I will have revenge. You think of nothing but money; but vengeance -will be sweeter to me, than all the gold of earth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are different sorts of revenge," answered Moreton, quietly; -"and, depend upon it, that which I propose is much more terrible. Once -he is married, and quietly informed that you are still living, think -what pleasant tortures he would undergo, year after year, as long as -you pleased. You would stand behind him like an unseen, but not unfelt -fate, shadowing his whole existence with a dark cloud. Every hour he -would live in terror of discovery, and shame, and punishment. He would -never see a stranger, or receive a letter, without the hasty fears -rising up in his heart. He would picture to himself the breaking up of -all his domestic joys; he would see 'bastard' written on the face of -every child; and his heart would wither and shrivel up, I tell you, -like a fallen leaf in the autumn. Sleep would be banished from his -bed; appetite from his table; cheerfulness from his hearth; peace from -his whole life. Even the sweet cup of love itself would turn to poison -on his lips; and our vengeance would be permanent, perpetual, -undecaying. This is the sort of revenge for me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It does not suit me!" cried the lady; "It does not suit me; I will -have it at once; I will see him crushed and withering; I will feast my -eyes upon his misery. No, no; such slow, silent vengeance for the -cold-blooded and the calm. I tell you, you shall not stop me," she -continued, fiercely, seeing that he listened to her with a degree of -chilling tranquillity, which she did not love. "You may take what -course you will; but I will take mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Excellent!" said Captain Moreton, sneeringly; "excellent, my gentle -Charlotte; but let me just hint, that we must act together. You can do -nothing without me; I can stop it all at a word. Pray, recollect a -little hint I gave you the other night; and now, that the moment is -come for drawing the greatest advantages from that, which we have been -so long labouring to attain, do not drive me to spoil all your plans, -by attempting to spoil mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said the lady; "ha!" but she proceeded no further; and, sinking -into herself, walked up and down musingly for several minutes, at the -end of which time she began to hum snatches of an Italian song. -Captain Moreton, who knew well her variable humours, thought that the -mood was changed; but he was mistaken. He had planted that, of which -he was to reap the fruit ere long.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meantime, the boy Billy Lamb, having closed, as we have said, -the garden-gate, lingered for a moment, and then took his way across -the common in the direction of Stephen Gimlet's house, which was at -the distance of about a mile and a half. He went at a quick pace, but -two or three times he stopped, and thought deeply. He was an observing -boy, and saw and heard more than people imagined. He was a boy of very -strong feelings also, and he had conceived a strong affection for -Beauchamp, which made any thing that affected that gentleman a matter -of deep interest to him. Thus, the first time he stopped he repeated -to himself the incautious words the lady had uttered, syllable for -syllable. "He may have guests at his marriage he does not expect," -said the boy, meditating. "She looked mighty fierce too. I wonder what -she meant? No good, I'm sure, by the way her eyes went."</p> - -<p class="normal">He then walked on again about half a mile further; and this time it -was a narrow lane he halted in. "You see, our trout has bit at the -fly!" repeated Billy Lamb, evidently showing that he had heard a part, -at least, of what had passed after he left the garden; "that trout he -talked of must be Mr. Beauchamp--that's to say, the lord. I can't make -it out. I'll tell Stephen: he seems to know a good deal about them -all; or that good, kind Captain Hayward. He's a great friend of this -lord's, and will let him know; for they mean him harm, or I am -mistaken."</p> - -<p class="normal">When he reached Stephen Gimlet's cottage, however, and opened the -door, he found the outer room only tenanted by the little boy, who was -standing upon a stool, looking over the pages of a large, old Bible, -illustrated with some grotesque engravings, in which Adam and Eve, -very naked, indeed, the serpent, with a human head in large curls, -very much like that of a Chancery barrister; the same personage, in -the conventional form of a satyr, together with a number of angels; -and Noah's ark with all its beasts figured conspicuously.</p> - -<p class="normal">In turning his head sharply round to see who it was that came in, the -child let fall the leaves that were in his hand upon those opposite; -and instantly out flew an old time-stained scrip of paper, which made -a gyration in the air before it reached the floor. The boy instantly -darted after it, and picked it up before Billy Lamb could see what it -was. The pot-boy would then have taken it out of his hand; but the -other would not give it up, saying, with a screaming tone,</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, no! it is granny's;" and the same moment the voice of Widow -Lamb was heard from the inner room, demanding,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who have you got with you there, child?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is I, mother," answered the deformed boy. "Is Stephen in? I want -to speak with him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, my poor William," answered the old lady, coming forth, and -embracing her son; "he has been out a long while."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, is Captain Hayward upstairs?" asked the youth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is out too," answered the widow. "He was out yesterday for the -first time, and to-day we have had a grand party here, all the ladies -in the carriage, and Mr. Beauchamp walking. Mrs. Clifford came so -kindly to ask after me, and so they persuaded Captain Hayward to go -out with them. That is to say, Captain Hayward and Miss Mary, and Miss -Slingsby with my Lord Lenham. They've gone all up to the hall; Mrs. -Clifford in the carriage, and the rest on foot; and I should not -wonder, Bill, if Captain Hayward did not come back here again?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is unfortunate!" exclaimed Billy Lamb; "I wanted so much to -speak with him, or Stephen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, what is the matter, my dear boy?" said his mother; "if you will -tell me what it is, I will let Stephen know when he comes back."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, the matter is this, mother," answered the deformed boy, "Stephen -was asking me a great deal the other day about the gentleman who has -got the cottage on Chandleigh Heath, and what his name is. Now, I have -found out his name, and it is Captain Moreton."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have nought to do with him, Bill!" cried the widow; "have nought to -do with him! He is a base villain, and has ruined all who have had any -connexion with him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, I have nought to do with him, mother," answered Billy Lamb, "but -carrying him up his letters and newspapers; but I heard something -there to-day that I thought Stephen might like to know; for I am sure -he and the lady he has with him are plotting things to hurt this lord, -who was so kind to poor Ste."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! what did you hear?" asked the old lady, "that concerns me more -than Stephen, for I know more about that lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She does not seem a very sweet one," answered the boy; "for when I -told the captain about Lord Lenham going to be married to Sir John's -daughter, she looked as if she had a great inclination to scratch -somebody's eyes out."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Going to be married to Sir John's daughter!" exclaimed Widow Lamb. -"Bill, are you sure that's true?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite sure. Haven't you heard of it?" said the boy. "All the people -in Tarningham know it quite well; and a quantity of things are -ordered."</p> - -<p class="normal">Widow Lamb mused gravely for several minutes; and then, shaking her -head, said in a low voice, as if to herself:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I begin to understand. Well, what more did you hear, Billy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, after a little talk," said the boy, "when they heard that the -marriage was to be on Monday-week, the lady cried out, 'He will have -guests at his wedding that he does not expect!' and her eyes looked -just like two live coals. She did not say much more; for the captain -tried to stop her; but, as soon I had got through the garden-gate, I -heard him laugh quite heartily, and say out loud, 'This is capital, -Charlotte; you see our trout has bit at the fly.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so, they have been angling for him, have they?" said Widow Lamb; -"what more, my boy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, I did not like to stop and listen, mother," said the poor -deformed boy; "but I thought it could not be all right; and, -therefore, I made up my mind that I would tell Stephen, or Captain -Hayward, or somebody; for that Mr. Beauchamp, who has turned out a -lord, was always very kind to me when he was at the inn, and gave me -many a shilling; and I should not like to do them any harm, if I can -stop it; and I could see they were wonderfully bitter against him, by -the way of that lady and her husband."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is not her husband," said Widow Lamb, with a scoff; "but that -matters not, Bill; you are a good boy, and have done quite right; and, -perhaps, it may save much mischief; so that will be a comfort to you, -my son. I'll tell Stephen all about it, when he comes back; and we'll -talk the thing over together this very night, and see what can be -done. It is strange, very strange, Billy, how things turn out in this -world. Great people do not always know, when they do a kind action to -poor people and humble people like ourselves, that they may be helping -those, who will have the best means of helping them again. Now, from -what you have told me, Bill, I may have the means of helping this good -lord from getting himself into a terrible scrape. I am sure he does -not know all, my boy; I am sure a great number of things have been -concealed from him; and your telling me may set it all to rights."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, that's pleasant," answered the deformed boy. "It makes one very -lightsome, mother, to feel that one has been able to do any thing to -serve so good a gentleman; and so I shall go home quite gay."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That you may, Bill," replied his mother; "but bring me up news of any -thing you may hear; for you can't tell what may be of consequence, and -what may not."</p> - -<p class="normal">The boy promised to obey, and went away whistling one of the peculiar -melodies, of which he was so fond; in which, though the air was gay, -there was ever an occasional tone of sadness, perhaps proceeding from -a profound, though concealed, impression of melancholy regarding his -corporeal infirmities.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was late in the evening before Stephen Gimlet returned; but then -Widow Lamb entered into instant consultation with him upon what she -had heard; and their conference lasted far on into the night.</p> - -<p class="normal">The next morning early the gamekeeper got his breakfast, and then -putting on his hat, said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, I'll go, Goody Lamb. I shall be very awkward about it, I dare -say, but I don't mind; for he will find out in the end, that it is for -his own good I talk to him about such disagreeable things. So, here -goes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had better wait awhile, Stephen," said the widow; "most likely -he is not up yet; for it is not seven o'clock."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will be well nigh eight before I am there," answered Stephen -Gimlet, "and I can wait at the house till he is ready."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he walked away, and trudged on over the fields till he -came into Tarningham Park, by the road which leads over the hill just -above the house. He did not follow the carriage-drive, however, but -took the shorter path through the chestnut-trees, and in about ten -minutes, after entering the gates, saw the house. There was a -travelling-carriage standing before the hall-door, which was at the -distance of a quarter of a mile, and hardly had Stephen Gimlet's eyes -rested on it for an instant, when a servant got up behind, and the -post-boy laid his whip light over his horses. The carriage rolled on, -and the gamekeeper followed it with his eyes, with a feeling of -misgiving; but he pursued his way to the house notwithstanding, and -entering by the offices, asked the first servant he met, if he could -speak for a moment with Lord Lenham.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That you can't, Ste," answered the man, "for he has just gone off to -London. He will not be down for a week either, they say; and then -comes the wedding, my lad, so that you have a poor chance of talking -with him till the honeymoon is over."</p> - -<p class="normal">Stephen Gimlet looked down perplexed; and then, after a moment's -thought, he said, "Ay, there is to be a wedding, is there? I heard -something about it. He is a kind good gentleman as ever lived, and I -hope he may be very happy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I dare say he will now," said the footman, "for our young lady is fit -to be the wife of a king, that she is. But as one marriage made him -very unhappy, for a long time, it is but fit that another should cure -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then do you mean to say he has been married before?" asked the -gamekeeper.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that he has," replied the servant, "none of our people, not even -Sir John's gentleman, nor any one, knew a word about it till I found -it out. I'll tell you how it was, Ste. The day before yesterday -morning the butler says to me, 'I wish, Harrison, you'd just clear -away the breakfast things for I've got the gout in my hand'--he has -always got the gout, you know, by drinking so much ale, besides wine. -Well, when I went into the breakfast-room after they were all gone, I -saw that the door into the library was a little ajar; but I took no -notice, and Dr. Miles and Sir John went on talking there and did not -hear me at all in t'other room. I could not tell all they said; but I -made out that my Lord Lenham had been married a long time ago, but -that the lady had turned out a bad un, and that they had lived apart -for many years, till the other day my lord heard from Paris she was -dead, and then he proposed to Miss Isabella. Dr. Miles said something -about not hurrying the marriage, but the jolly old barrownight said -that was all stuff, that he would have a wedding before a fortnight -was over, and he'd broach two pipes of port and fuddle half the -county."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And when is it to be then?" asked Stephen Gimlet; but the man's reply -only confirmed what he had heard before, and with by no means a well -satisfied countenance, the gamekeeper took his way across the park -again, murmuring to himself as soon as he got out into the open air, -"Goody Lamb was right! They've cheated him into believing she is dead. -That is clear. There is some devilish foul work going on; and how to -manage I don't know. At all events I'll go back and talk to the old -woman, for she has a mighty clear head of her own."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he walked on he saw our friend Ned Hayward strolling slowly along -at a distance, and he felt a strong inclination to go up and tell him -all he had been going to tell Beauchamp; but then he reflected that he -had no right to divulge what he knew of the latter gentleman's secrets -to another who might not be fully in his confidence. Besides, Ned -Hayward was not alone. There was the flutter of a lady's garments -beside him, and he seemed in earnest conversation with his fair -companion. They were not indeed walking arm-in-arm together, but they -were very close to one another, and as Stephen Gimlet paused -considering, he saw the lady's head frequently raised for a moment as -if to look in her companion's face, and then bent down again as if -gazing on the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">The gamekeeper judged from these indications that they were -particularly engaged, and would not like to be disturbed, and taking -that with other motives for not going near them, he walked back to his -own cottage where he found Widow Lamb with her large Bible open before -her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Gimlet's story was soon told, and his mother-in-law seemed as puzzled -as he did for a time. He then suggested for her consideration whether -it might not be as well to convey the intelligence they possessed to -Captain Hayward or Sir John Slingsby; but Widow Lamb exclaimed, at -once,</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Stephen, no! we might make mischief with the intention of doing -good. We must wait. He will come back before the marriage-day and you -must see him then. I will go up with you and talk to him myself; for I -have much to say that I will only say to himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But suppose we should not be able to see him?" said Stephen Gimlet, -"or if any thing should prevent his coming till the very day?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, I suppose we must speak to some one else," replied his -step-mother, "but do not be afraid, Stephen. Leave it all to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Stephen Gimlet was afraid, however; for he was one of those -unfortunate eager people who when they take the interests of another -to heart are never satisfied till they see those interests perfectly -secure. He had all his life, too, been accustomed to manage every -thing for himself, to rely upon no one, to trust to his own mind and -his own exertions for the accomplishment of every thing he desired. It -is an unlucky habit which makes people very uneasy when once they -contract it, which trebles both their anxieties and their labours; for -there is not above one-third, in ordinary circumstances, of any thing -that a man requires to do which can be done by his own hands, in the -complicated state of society in which we live; but still Stephen -Gimlet had that habit, and like an old coachman, he was not easy when -the reins were in the hands of another.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">And what were Ned Hayward and Mary Clifford talking about? Wait one -minute, and you shall hear all about it; but first let me pause to -make only one remark. I have observed during some acquaintance with -life, and a good deal of examination into all its curious little -byways and narrow alleys, that the conversation which takes place -between two people left alone to talk together, without any witnesses -but green fields and bowery trees, is never, or at least very seldom, -that which any one, even well acquainted with them, would have -anticipated from a previous knowledge of their characters. It was an -extremely right, just, and proper view of the case, that was taken, -when people (I do not know who), decided that three forms a -congregation. We all know it: we all feel it instinctively. Three is a -congregation; and when we speak before a congregation, we speak to a -congregation.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Mary Clifford and Ned Hayward were alone together; and now a word -or two upon the frame of mind in which they met. Ned Hayward, since -first we introduced him to our readers, had taken a great part in many -things where Mary Clifford was concerned. He had first made her -acquaintance in rescuing her gallantly from the brutal and shameless -attempt to carry her off, of a man whom she detested. He had told her -kindly and frankly of her uncle's embarrassed and dangerous situation. -He had without the slightest ostentation offered the means of -relieving him from the most pressing of his difficulties, and had gone -up to London to accomplish what he offered, with a mixture of delicacy -of feeling and gay open-hearted readiness, which doubled the value of -all he did. He had come down again, fought a duel with the man who had -insulted her, received a severe wound, suffered, and put himself to -great inconvenience; and then had been found prepared at the moment of -need, to redeem his given word in her uncle's behalf, without -hesitation or reluctance, though evidently at a great sacrifice.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, all these things might have gone no further than the -mind, even with a calm, gentle, feeling creature like herself. -Gratitude she could not have avoided entertaining under such -circumstances, respect, very high esteem; but she might have felt -nothing more had that been all. There was a great deal more, however. -Ned Hayward had disappointed all Mary Clifford's preconceived ideas of -his character; and had gone on growing upon her regard every hour. She -had found him thoughtful, where she had believed him to be heedless; -feeling, where she had expected him to be selfish; full of deep -emotions, where she had fancied him light; well-informed and of -cultivated tastes, instead of superficial and careless; and being -imperatively called upon to do him justice in her own heart, she went -on and did perhaps something more. But still this was not all; he had -first excited wonder, curiosity, and pleasure, then admiration and -esteem, then interest and sympathy. Tie all these up in a parcel, with -gratitude for great services rendered, and a great number of musings -regarding him in silence and in solitude, and what will be the result? -Day by day after the duel she had thought of him--perhaps, I might -have said, night after night. Then, when she had seen him again, and -knew him to be ill and suffering, she had thought of him with deeper -feelings still, and even oftener than before; and when at length he -came over with reviving health, and took up his abode in the same -house with herself, she returned to her old manner of thinking of him, -with a number of new sensations blending in her meditations; and she -fancied that she was studying his character all the while. What was it -that she compared it to? She thought it was like a deep beautiful -valley, so full of sunshine, that no eye, but one very near, could see -the fair things that it contained. I do not know what all this was, -readers; but I think it looked very like falling in love.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, though these things might cause Mary Clifford to love -Edward Hayward, the reader may suppose that they afforded no reason -why he should love her--but that is a mistake. Love is like a cast and -a mould, where there is an impression upon both, different, yet -representing the same object. Love at first sight--love which springs -merely from the eye, is a thing apart; but love which proceeds from -acts and words and looks, is generally, though not always, -conscientious. The very deeds, which performed towards another, beget -it in that other, beget it also in ourselves. A woman is cherished and -protected. She loves the being who does cherish and protect her, -because he does; and he loves her because he cherishes and protects. -Ned Hayward had thought Mary exquisitely beautiful from the first; but -that would not have been enough--he was not a doll fancier! But her -conversation pleased him, her gentle sweetness charmed him, her -situation and all that it produced between them interested him, -and ... But he had thoroughly made up his mind not to fall in love; -and that was all that was wanting to make the thing complete. There -was only one difficulty or objection. Mary Clifford had, what was -called in those days, a large fortune. The dean, her father, had been -a wealthy and a prudent man; and he had left her about two thousand a -year, her mother's jointure not included. Now, Ned Hayward had, as the -reader knows, very little from the beginning; that little was now -still less; and he had determined to hate all heiresses. Hate Mary -Clifford! Pooh, pooh, Ned Hayward!</p> - -<p class="normal">However, a certain undefinable sensation of being very far gone in -love--the perception of feeling she had never experienced before, had -made him very sad and uneasy for the last five or six days. He would -have run away if he could; for he thought there was only safety in -flight. But he could not go. He was not well enough to take a long -journey; and he had promised Beauchamp to stay for his marriage. But -marriage is an infectious disease; and even in its incipient stages, -it is catching. Ned Hayward thought a great deal of marriage during -those five or six days, of what a lucky man Beauchamp was, and of how -happy he would be if he had only a tithe of his wealth--with Mary -Clifford. But Ned Hayward was not a man to find himself in a difficult -and dangerous situation without facing it boldly. He felt, that he had -suffered himself to be entangled in a very tough sort of the tender -passion, and he resolved to break through the net, and, in fact, quit -Tarningham-house as soon as possible. But a few days remained to be -passed ere that appointed for Beauchamp's marriage; and he fancied he -could very well get through that short period without any further -danger or detriment. "He would see as little of Mary Clifford as -possible," he thought; "he would employ himself in reading, in walking, -in riding out with Sir John, as soon as he was strong enough;" and -thus, as usual with all men, he proposed to do a thousand things, -that he never did at all; and consoled himself with resolutions that -could not be executed.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the day of Beauchamp's departure for London, Ned Hayward rose -early, breakfasted with his friend, saw him off, and then, according -to the plan he had proposed, walked out into the fine sunny morning -air, intending to spend the greater part of the summer day in some of -the cool and more retired parts of the park.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was, at least, two hours before the usual time of breakfast; -he had not an idea that any of the family was up; and thus pursuing -one of the gravel walks away from the house, he went in among the -chestnut-trees, and strolled on, fancying himself perfectly alone in -the woods, when suddenly, in taking a turn, the path showed him the -fair face and graceful form of Mary Clifford advancing towards him at -the distance of about fifty or sixty paces. To avoid her, of course, -was quite out of the question; but Ned Hayward resolved, that he would -only speak to her for a moment, and then go on. But, Heaven knows how -it happened; in about two minutes he might be seen turning round with -her; and their walk continued for nearly an hour and a half.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Miss Clifford," he said, with as gay a look as he could -command, "Beauchamp is gone. Have you been taking a long walk?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, not very far," answered Mary, "I saw some strange people crossing -the park; and ever since that adventure which first made us acquainted -with each other, I have become very cowardly. I therefore turned back; -otherwise I should have much enjoyed a ramble for I have a slight -headache."</p> - -<p class="normal">What could Ned Hayward do under such circumstances? He could not avoid -offering to escort and protect Miss Clifford--he could not even -hesitate to propose it. Mary did not refuse; but her yes, was timidly -spoken; and, instead of turning back with Ned Hayward through the wild -wood walks, she made him turn back with her, and led him to the more -open parts of the park, where the house was generally in sight.</p> - -<p class="normal">A momentary silence had fallen over both before they issued forth from -under the chestnut-trees; and each felt some awkwardness in breaking -that silence: the surest possible sign of there being very strong -feelings busy at the heart; but Mary felt that the longer the silence -continued, the more awkward would it become, and the more clearly -would it prove that she was thoughtful and embarrassed; and therefore -she spoke at random, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"What a beautiful day it is for Lord Lenham's journey. I envy him the -first twenty miles of his drive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I envy him in all things," answered Ned Hayward; "his life may, and, -indeed, seems likely to be made up of beautiful days; and I am very -sure that mine is not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, Captain Hayward," said Mary, raising her eyes gently to his -face, and shaking her head with a smile, "you are in low spirits and -unwell, otherwise you would never take so bright a view of your -friend's fate, and so dark a one of your own. Many a fair and -beautiful day may be, and ought to be, in reserve for you. Indeed, -they must be; for your own heart lays up, by the acts it prompts, a -store of sunshine and brightness for the days to come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"May it not rather lay up, by the feelings it experiences, a store of -bitterness and sorrow, of clouds and darkness?" asked Ned Hayward, in -a tone so different from that he commonly used, that Mary started, -gazed for a moment at him, and then, letting her eyes fall again as -they met his, first coloured slightly, and then turned pale. By the -marks of emotion which she displayed, Ned Hayward was led to believe, -that he had spoken too plainly of what he had never intended to touch -upon at all; and he hastened to repair the error.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What I mean is simply this, my dear Miss Clifford," he said; "a man -who enjoys himself very much--as I do--feels pain in the same -proportion, or perhaps more keenly. Every source of pleasure is an -inlet to pain, and as we go on continually in this world, losing -something dear to us, day by day, I am occasionally inclined to envy -those cold phlegmatic gentlemen who, with a very tolerable store of -pleasures, have few pains but corporeal ones. I never pretend to be a -very sentimental person, or to have very fine feelings, or any thing -of that sort; but now as an instance of what I was speaking of, I -cannot think of quitting this beautiful spot, and all the friends who -have shown me so much kindness, as I must do on Monday next, without a -sort of sinking at the heart, which is very unpleasant."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do not mean to say you are going on Monday!" exclaimed Miss -Clifford, pausing suddenly, with the colour varying in her cheek.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward was surprised and pleased; for there was no attempt to -conceal that his staying or going was a matter of interest to her. He -answered, however, gravely, even sadly,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear I must."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you have forgotten your promised visit to us at Hinton," said -Mary, reproachfully, and deadly pale; "you promised to come, you know; -I have counted upon that visit as affording an opportunity of settling -how and where, when I come of age, which will now be in a few months, -the money you so generously lent me, can be repaid.--Indeed," she -added, earnestly, "you must come there for a few days, even if you do -not stay here."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a tenderness, a tremulous softness in her tone, a slight yet -sufficiently marked agitation in her manner, which made Ned Hayward's -heart beat.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can I be beloved?" he asked himself. "Can she return the feelings she -has inspired? I will soon know!--My dear Miss Clifford," he replied, -"I fear that visit would prove more dangerous to me than this has -been; and, therefore, however unwillingly--however great would have -been the delight, I must decline it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford looked down without uttering a word; but her cheek -remained pale, her lip quivered as if she would fain have given voice -to some reply; and though her arm was not in his, he could feel that -she trembled. Ned Hayward's heart beat too; but there was, as we have -often seen before, a frankness, a straightforward simplicity in his -habitual course of action, which overleaped many a difficulty that -would have baffled other men.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me explain," he said, but Mary made a slight motion with her -hand, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no, no!" in a faint tone, and then she repeated the word -"dangerous!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he said, "more dangerous, dear Miss Clifford! Can you not -conceive how and why?--In a word, then, I cannot and must not stay -with you longer. I must by as speedy a return as possible to other -occupations, make an effort to forget that I have ever seen one, whom -I fear I have already known too long for the peace of my whole life."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused for a moment with a sigh, raised his head high the next -instant, and then added, "I have but one favour to ask you, which is -this--not to let what I have just said make any difference in your -demeanor towards me, during the short period of my stay. I had no -intention of troubling your ear with such things at all; but your own -question brought forth what I would willingly have concealed--perhaps -in this I have been wrong; but believe me, I am very well aware that -difference of fortune has placed a barrier between us which cannot be -overleaped. This is the only favour, then, dear lady--do not alter -towards me--let me see you ever the same as I have yet beheld you; and -when I go away for ever, let me carry with me the remembrance of Mary -Clifford as a picture of all that deserves love and admiration upon -earth.--Do not, do not change, notwithstanding my rash confessions."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary Clifford looked up in his face, and a varying light played in her -eyes, as if, at one moment, it was about to break forth sportively, -and at another would have drowned itself out in tears.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must change, Hayward!" she said at length, with a bright smile upon -her lip, "indeed you ask too much. How can you expect that I should -live in the same house with you, and know that you love me, without -showing in some degree what is passing in my own breast?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mary! Mary!" he exclaimed, laying his hand upon her arm, and gazing -in her face, "you would not--oh, I am sure you would not trifle with -me--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not for the world," she answered. "Edward, I am incapable of trifling -with any man; but with you, to whom I owe so much, it would be base -indeed!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the great disparity of fortune," said her lover, with the shade -again upon his brow. "Oh, Mary, how can it ever be? You, I have heard, -are wealthy--they call you 'the heiress'--and I know myself to be -poor. Are you aware--surely I told you, that all I had saved out of -the wreck of my father's fortune, only amounted at first to--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will you pain me?--Do you wish to grieve me?" asked Mary Clifford, -"if not, do not mention such matters as in any way likely to affect my -feelings or conduct; and yet I do not wish you to consider me as a -romantic girl, for I am not. I have always thought that a competence -must be possessed to render the lives of any two people happy; but -surely it matters not on whose side that competence comes. We shall -have enough, Edward, for happiness, and though I know it would have -been more pleasure to yourself if the greater part of our little -fortune had been brought by you, yet I am very glad that <i>I</i> have it, -as you have not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But your mother--your guardian, Mary?" said Ned Hayward, still in a -doubtful tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary laughed, but with a slight touch of vexation in the tone; and she -exclaimed,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do believe he will not have me, even when I have almost offered -myself to him!"</p> - -<p class="normal">But Ned Hayward would not lie under that imputation, and he cast his -arms round his fair companion, assuring her that if she had the wealth -of the world, the only portion he would value would be herself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary freed herself gently from his embrace; and suffering him to draw -her arm through his, walked on with him till the breakfast hour was -fully come.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It is strange how we all go grinding the fate of each other in this -world, high and low, rich and poor, the cottage tenant and the lord of -the mansion, all jostling each other, and without knowing it, each -making his fellow take a step this way or that, which very much -influences the onward path. All was cheerfulness and gaiety at -Tarningham Park. Mary Clifford had assured Ned Hayward that her -mother's consent would not only be given, but given cheerfully, that -her guardians, whose period of rule was so nearly at an end, would -raise no objection, and that all who loved her would be glad to see -her the promised bride of one so well worthy of esteem. Nor was her -promise unaccomplished; for good Mrs. Clifford was delighted. Ned -Hayward had ever been a great favourite of hers ever since he had come -to her rescue in Tarningham-lane. The guardians were quite quiescent, -replying to the letter of announcement, that whatever Miss Clifford -judged for her own happiness and received her mother's consent, would -insure their approbation. Sir John was in an ecstasy, and Isabella in -the midst of her own happiness, felt happier still at that of her -cousin. Daily letters were received from Beauchamp all breathing joy -and hope, and though lawyers were troublesome and men of business -dilatory, yet not one word was said, not one thought seemed to be -entertained of any real danger or difficulty.</p> - -<p class="normal">All then was cheerfulness and gaiety at Tarningham Park, and not one -of its inmates had the slightest idea of the anxiety and alarm which -were felt for them in a cottage not far off. Every morning and every -evening long consultations were held between Widow Lamb and her -son-in-law regarding the fate of Mr. Beauchamp, and just in proportion -to their ignorance of the habits of the world were the difficulties -that presented themselves to their imaginations. Stephen Gimlet was -anxious to act in some direction. Mr. Beauchamp, as he still -frequently called him, being absent, he thought it would be better to -say all that they had to say, to Sir John Slingsby, or at all events -to Captain Hayward; but on the contrary his mother-in-law, with longer -experience, a disposition naturally timid and cautious, and upon the -whole better judgment, insisted that it might be wrong or dangerous to -do so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You cannot tell, Stephen," she said, "what this good young lord has -told them and what he has not. We cannot even be sure how this woman -stands with him. He may have divorced her for ought we know. I am sure -her conduct has always been bad enough; and if such should be the case -we might make the poor young lady unhappy when there is no need. -Nobody even can guess at all the mischief that might happen. No, no, -you watch closely for the young lord's coming back, and as soon as -ever he is here, you and I will go up and speak to him. He must be -back in time for that, and I dare say he will come on Saturday night, -so there will be plenty of time."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was one of Stephen Gimlet's maxims, and a very good one, too, that -there never is plenty of time; but he carried the matter somewhat too -far, for he thought one could never do too much. Now that is a very -great mistake; for in love, politics, and ambition, as in the roasting -of a leg of mutton, you can remedy the <i>meno</i>, but you cannot remedy -the <i>piu</i>. However, to make up for not doing what his mother-in-law -would not let him do--and in regard to Beauchamp she had the whip hand -of him, for she did not let him into her secrets--he busied himself -every spare moment that he had in watching the proceedings of Captain -Moreton and the fair lady he had with him. His long familiarity with -beasts and birds, greatly affected his views of all things, and he got -to look upon these objects of his contemplation as two wild animals. -He internally named one the fox and the other the kite, and with the -same sort of shrewd speculation in regard to their manners, habits, -and designs, as he employed upon brutes, he watched, and calculated, -and divined with wonderful accuracy. One thing, however, he forgot, -which was, that a human fox has a few more faculties than the mere -brute; and that, although the four-legged fellow with the brush might -require great caution in any examination of his habits and -proceedings, Captain Moreton might require still more. Now that worthy -gentleman very soon found out that there was an observant eye upon -him, and he moreover discovered whose eye that was. There could not -have been a more unpleasant sensation to Captain Moreton than to feel -himself watched, especially by Stephen Gimlet; for he knew him to be -keen, shrewd, active, decided, persevering, one not easily baffled, -and by no means to be frightened; one, who must be met, combated, -overcome in any thing he undertook, or else suffered to have his own -way. Captain Moreton was puzzled how to act. To enter into open war -with Stephen was likely to be a very dangerous affair; for the -proceedings of the worthy captain, as the reader may suppose, did not -court public examination; and yet to suffer any man to become -thoroughly acquainted with all his in-comings and out-goings, was very -disagreeable and might be perilous. To gain time, indeed, was the -great thing; for Moreton's intention was, as soon as he had fairly -seen his cousin married to Isabella Slingsby, to take his departure -for another land, and to leave the consequences of the situation, in -which he had placed Lord Lenham, to operate, as he thoroughly believed -they would operate, in destroying health, vigour, and life. His only -object in remaining at all was so to guide the proceedings of his fair -companion, and to restrain her fiery and unreasoning passions, as to -prevent her overthrowing his whole scheme by her intemperate haste. -But how to gain the necessary time was the question. He first changed -his haunts and his hours, went out on the other side of the heath; but -Stephen Gimlet was there; took his walk in the early morning, instead -of late in the evening; but the figure of Stephen Gimlet was seen in -the gray twilight, whether it was day-dawn or sunset; and Captain -Moreton became seriously uneasy.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nothing, however, as yet appeared to have resulted from all this -watching, till, on the Saturday morning, somewhat to Captain Moreton's -surprise, the door of the room, where he was sitting alone, was -opened, and in walked his friend and acquaintance, Harry Wittingham. -The young man was exceedingly pale; but still he appeared to move -freely and without pain or difficulty; and a look of real pleasure -came up in Captain Moreton's face, which completely deceived Mr. -Wittingham, junior, as to the sensations of his friend towards him. He -fancied, as Captain Moreton shook him warmly by the hand, and declared -he was delighted to see him well again, that the other was really glad -at his recovery. Now Harry Wittingham might have been wounded, sick, -dying, dead, buried, turned into earth again, without Captain -Moreton's caring one straw about him, simply as Harry Wittingham <i>per -se</i>; but as one who might be serviceable in his schemes, who might -help him out of a difficulty, and, by taking part in a load of danger, -might help Captain Moreton to bear the rest, he was an object of great -interest to the captain, who, congratulated him again and again upon -his recovered health, made him sit down, inquired particularly into -all he had suffered, and did and said all those sorts of things which -were most likely to make a man thus convalescent believe that a -friendly heart had been greatly pained by all he had undergone.</p> - -<p class="normal">Harry Wittingham was soon seated in an armchair, and making himself -quite at home. Contrary to the advice of all doctors, he indulged in a -glass of brandy-and-water at the early hour of half-past ten, and -declared he was a great deal better for it, that old fool Slattery -having kept him without wine, spirits, or porter for the last five -weeks.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that might be necessary some time ago," said Moreton, "till your -wound was healed, but it is all stuff now. It must have been a bad -wound that you have got, Harry; and I am devilish sorry I could not be -down myself, for I think then you would have got no wound at all. -However, you gave him as good as you got, and that was some -consolation. No gentleman should ever be without his revenge, whether -it be with cards, or pistols, or what not, he should always give -something for what he gets, and if he does that, he has every reason -to be satisfied."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have not got quite enough yet," said Harry Wittingham, with a -significant nod of his head; "and some people shall find that by and -by."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that's right, quite," answered Captain Moreton; "but I say, Hal, -how is the old cock, your father? I heard yesterday he was breaking -sadly--got the jaundice, or some devil of a thing like that--as yellow -as one of the guineas he keeps locked up from you--time for him to -take a journey, I should think."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a minute or two Harry Wittingham made no reply, but then he set -his teeth hard and said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should not wonder if the hard-hearted old flint were to leave it -all away from me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Captain Moreton gave a long, low whistle, exclaiming, "Upon my life, -you must stop that. Hang me, if I would not pretend to be penitent and -play a good boy for a month or two."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is no use in the world," answered Harry Wittingham; "you might as -well try to turn the Thames at Gravesend as to put him out of his -course when once he has taken a thing into head. He must do what he -likes, he can't take it all, that's one comfort; but I say, Moreton, -what the devil is that fellow Wolf hanging about here for? You had -better not have any thing to do with him, I can tell you. He is as -great a scamp as ever lived, and I'll punish him some day or another. -I should have come in yesterday, but I saw him sitting down there upon -the mound upon the heath, looking straight here, and so I went away."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did you see him again to-day?" asked Captain Moreton, with very -uneasy feelings.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes," answered Wittingham, "there he was prowling about with his -gun under his arm; but I doubled upon him this time, and went down the -lanes, and in by the back way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will make him pay for this," said Moreton, setting his teeth. "He -has been spying here for a long time, and if it was not that I don't -wish any fuss till the day after to-morrow is over, I would break -every bone in his skin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would be a good thing if you did," answered Harry Wittingham; -"I'll tell you how he served me;" and he forthwith related all the -circumstances of his somewhat unpleasant adventure with Stephen Gimlet -when he visited the gamekeeper's cottage.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment he had done, Captain Moreton tapped him on the arm with a -meaning smile, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'll tell you what, Harry, though you are not very strong yet, yet if -you are up to giving me ever so little help, we'll punish that fellow -before to-morrow's over. If you can come here to-night and take a bed, -we'll get up early and dodge him as he has been dodging us. He is -always out and about before any body else, so that there will be no -one to help him let him halloo as loud as he will. He is continually -off Sir John's ground with his gun and dog, so that we have every -right to think he is poaching, as he used to do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, but what will you do with him?" said Harry Wittingham; "he is -devilish strong remember."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, but so am I," answered Captain Moreton; "and I will take him -unawares, so that he cannot use his gun. Once down, I will keep him -there, while you tie his arms, and then we will bundle him over here, -and lock him up for a day or two."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give him a precious good hiding," said young Wittingham, "for he well -deserves it; but I don't see any use of keeping him. If we punish him -well on the spot, that's enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There's nothing that you or I can do," answered Captain Moreton, -"that will punish him half so much as keeping him here till noon on -Monday, for now I'll let you into one thing, Harry: I am looking out -for my revenge upon some other friends of ours, and I have a notion -this fellow is set to watch every thing I do, with promise of devilish -good pay, if he stops me from carrying out my plan. It will all be -over before twelve o'clock on Monday; and if we can keep him shut up -here till then, he will lose his bribe, and I shall have vengeance. -You can give him a good licking, too, if you like, and nobody can say -any thing about it if we catch him off old Sir John's grounds."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't care whether they say any thing about it or not," answered -Harry Wittingham; "they may all go to the devil for that matter, and -I'll lend a hand with all my heart. But remember, I'm devilish weak, -and no match for him now; for this wound has taken every bit of -strength out of me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, you'll soon get that up again," answered Captain Moreton; "but -I'll manage all the rough work. But how do you get on about money if -the old fellow gives you none?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should be devilishly badly off, indeed," replied the young man, "if -our old housekeeper did not help me; but she has taken her money out -of the bank, and is selling some things for me; so I must not forget -to let her know that I am here if I come to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I'll take care of that," answered Captain Moreton. "There's a boy -brings up my letters and things, a quiet, cunning little humpbacked -devil, who whistles just like a flageolet, and says very little to any -body. I'll tell him to go and tell old mother what's-her-name slyly, -that you are here if she wants you."</p> - -<p class="normal">The whole scheme seemed palatable to Harry Wittingham, and he entered -into the details with great zest and spirit, proposing several -improvements upon Captain Moreton's plan, some of which suited that -gentleman quite well. Another glass of brandy-and-water was added, and -Harry Wittingham declared that it was better than all the doctor's -stuff he had swallowed since he was wounded, for that he was already -much better than when he came, and felt himself quite strong again. -After an hour's rambling conversation upon all sorts of things not -very gentlemanly either in tone or matter, the two worthy confederates -parted.</p> - -<p class="normal">As the visitor took his way back to Buxton's Inn, he looked boldly -round for Stephen Gimlet with a pleasant consciousness of coming -vengeance; but the gamekeeper was not to be seen, and meditating the -pleasant pastime laid out for the following day, Mr. Wittingham -reached the inn, and ordered a very good dinner as a preparation. He -felt a little feverish, it is true, but nevertheless he drank the -bottle of stiff port which was placed on the table when dinner was -served; and elated with wine, set out as soon as it was dark to take -part once more in one of those schemes of evil which suited too well -his rash and reckless disposition, little knowing that all the time he -was the mere tool of another.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Well doctor, well doctor, what is the matter?" asked Sir John -Slingsby, at the door of his own house, towards two o'clock on that -Saturday afternoon; "you look warm, doctor, and not half as dry as -usual. I declare, you have made that fat pony of yours perspire like -an alderman at the Easter ball. What has put you into the saddle? Has -the chaise broken down?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Sir John," answered Doctor Miles; "but the horse was sooner -saddled than harnessed, and I wanted to see you in haste--where are -you going now? for you are about to mount, I perceive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am going down to set the fools at Tarningham to rights," answered -Sir John Slingsby. "I hear that that bilious old crow, Wittingham, and -deaf old Mr. Stumpforth, of Stumpington, have been sitting for these -two or three hours at the justice-room getting up all sorts of -vexatious cases with Wharton, to torment the poor people of the -parish, and to put them in a devout frame of mind for their Sunday's -duties; so I am going down to put my finger in the pie and spoil the -dish for them. Come along, doctor, and help, for you are a magistrate -too, and a man who does not like to see his fellow-creatures -maltreated. You can tell me what you want as we jog along."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We shall be going exactly in the right direction," said Doctor Miles, -"for my business with you referred to your magisterial capacity, Sir -John."</p> - -<p class="normal">The worthy, who had his foot in the stirrup, raised himself into the -saddle with wonderful agility, considering his size and his age; and, -accompanied by Doctor Miles, was soon on his way towards Tarningham, -listening with all his ears to the communication which the rector had -to make.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must know, my good friend," said the doctor, "that some short -time ago your gamekeeper, Stephen Gimlet, found in the little vicarage -church at Moreton some one busily engaged, as it appeared, in the -laudable task of altering the registers in the vestry. He locked him -safely in, but the culprit got out in the night; and Gimlet -communicated the fact to me. I would have spoken to you about it, but -circumstances occurred at that time which might have rendered it -unpleasant for you to deal with that business."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I understand," said Sir John Slingsby, nodding his head -significantly, "who was the man?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Gimlet asserts that it was no other than that worst of all bad -fellows, Captain Moreton," replied Doctor Miles. "I examined the -register, and found that an alteration had certainly been committed; -for the date of one of the insertions was advanced several years -before those that followed, by skilfully changing a nought into a six. -Under the circumstances, I thought it best to consult with Wittingham, -and I proposed that a warrant should be issued against Captain -Moreton; but the worthy gentleman thought fit both to examine and -cross-examine Gimlet in the first instance; asked him nine times over -if he would swear that it was Captain Moreton; and, when he found that -he had not seen the man's face, his back being turned to the door of -the vestry when Gimlet went in, he pooh-poohed the whole matter, and -refused to issue the warrant. I did not choose to do so myself, the -event having occurred in a parish of my own, and with one of my -registers, but this morning, on visiting old Grindley, the sexton, who -is very ill, he made a full confession of his part in the affair: -Moreton had bribed him, it seems, to open for him the family vault and -the door of the vestry. In the one the worthy captain altered the date -on his great grandfather's coffin from 1760 to 1766 by an instrument -he seemed to have had made on purpose; and in the vestry performed the -same operation with plain pen and ink."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A pretty scoundrel," said Sir John Slingsby; "but I know what he -wants. He wants to prove that his mother could not break the entail, -which would be the case if the old man had lived an hour after she was -born."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Precisely so," said Doctor Miles; "but I did not choose to deal with -Mr. Wittingham any more upon the subject, at least without your -assistance; and therefore before I either signed a warrant myself, or -spoke with the people of Tarningham about it, I thought it better to -come up to the park and consult with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As the wisest man in the county," said Sir John Slingsby, laughing. -"My dear doctor, I will get a certificate from you and qualify for the -university of Gotham--but I will tell you what we will do, we will -send the groom here for Stephen Gimlet, and his evidence, with -the deposition of old Grindley, will soon put the whole matter -right.--Here, Tom, ride over like the devil to Ste Gimlet's cottage; -tell him to come down as fast as his legs will carry him to the -justice-room at Tarningham. We'll soon bring these gentlemen to the -end of their law, and Wharton to boot--an ill-conditioned brute, a -cross between a fox and a turnspit--do you recollect his mother, -doctor? Her legs were just like the balustrades of a bridge, turned -the wrong side upmost, only they bowed out on each side, which gave -them a sort of ogee."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus rattling on, Sir John Slingsby rode forward till they reached the -entrance of the little justice-room, which was conveniently situated -immediately adjoining Mr. Wharton's offices.</p> - -<p class="normal">The appearance of Sir John Slingsby and Dr. Miles did not seem at all -palateable to the two other magistrates and their clerk, if one might -judge by the superlative courtesy of their reception. A chair was -placed immediately for the reverend gentleman, Mr. Stumpforth vacated -his seat for Sir John as president of the magistrates, and Mr. -Wharton, with malevolent sweetness, expressed his delight at seeing -Sir John amongst them again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You did all you could to prevent it," said Sir John, taking the -chair, "but it would not do, Wharton. Now, gentlemen, what are you -about? we will not interrupt business."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are a good many cases down," said Mr. Wharton; "some of them -excise-cases, some of them under the poor-law, some of them--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, let us get through them, let us get through them," cried Sir -John, interrupting him, "for we have business, too, which must be -done.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must take things in their order," said Mr. Wittingham, drily.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes, according to the ledger," cried Sir John Slingsby, laughing; -"every thing in the regular way of trade, Wittingham, eh? Who's this? -James Jackson, the publican," he continued, looking at the paper; -"well, Wittingham, how does the debtor and creditor account stand with -him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham winced, but replied nothing; and the case was regularly -taken up. Some nine or ten others followed; and certainly every thing -was done by the two magistrates who had been found sitting, and their -exceedingly excellent clerk to tire out Sir John Slingsby and Dr. -Miles, by protracting the investigation as long as possible. The poor -persons, however, who had been compelled by the power of paper or -parchment to appear in the awful presence of justice, had reason to -thank their stars and did so most devoutly, that the number of -magistrates was increased to four. A number of cases were dismissed as -frivolous; very lenient penalties were inflicted in other instances; -and, if the real truth were told, the person who suffered the severest -punishment under the proceedings of that day was no other than Mr. -Wittingham, upon whom Sir John Slingsby continued to pour for two long -hours all the stores of sarcasm which had accumulated in his bosom -during the last fortnight. At length the magistrates' paper was over, -and worthy Mr. Wittingham showed an inclination to depart; but Sir -John Slingsby stopped him, exclaiming,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay a bit, Wittingham, stay a bit, my good Sir. The case with which -we have now to deal you have already nibbled at; so you must have your -share of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am ill, Sir John," said Mr. Wittingham, "I am not fit."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not fit I have long known you to be," rejoined Sir John, and then -added in a murmur, "for any thing but a tall stool at the back end of -a slopseller's shop; but as to being ill, Wittingham, you don't -pretend to be ill. Why your complexion is as ruddy as if you had -washed your face with guineas out of your strong box. However it is -this business of Captain Moreton and his falsification of the register -at Moreton church that we have to deal with."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have already disposed of that," said Mr. Wittingham, sharply, "and -I am not disposed to go into it again."</p> - -<p class="normal">But it was now Mr. Wharton's turn to attack Mr. Wittingham.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have disposed of it, Sir," he exclaimed, with all the blood in -his body rushing up into his face; "the falsification of the registers -of Moreton church! why, I never heard of this!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There was no reason that you should," answered Mr. Wittingham, -tartly; "you are not a magistrate, I think, Mr. Wharton; and besides, -you might in some degree, be considered as a party interested. -Besides, you were absent, and so I sent for Bacon and dealt with the -matter myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fried his bacon and deviled the attorney," said Sir John Slingsby, -with a roar, "you see he is such an active creature, Wharton, he must -be doing whether right or wrong. I declare he cuts out so much matter -for the bench in reversing all his sage decrees, that the rest of the -magistrates can scarcely manage it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did not come here to be insulted, Sir John Slingsby," said Mr. -Wittingham, the jaundiced yellow of his face gradually becoming of an -olive green, "I did not come here to be insulted, and will not stay -for such a purpose; I expect to be treated like a gentleman, Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wonderful are the expectations of man," exclaimed the baronet, "just -as much might a chimney-sweeper expect to be treated like an -archbishop, because he wears black--but let us to business, let us to -business, if we go on complimenting each other in this way we shall -not get through the affair to-night, especially with your lucid -assistance, Wittingham; for if there be a man in England who can so -stir a puddle that the sharpest eyes shall not be able to see a lost -half-crown at the bottom, you are the man."</p> - -<p class="normal">Up started the worthy magistrate, exclaiming in a weak voice and -bewildered air,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not stay, that man will drive me mad."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Impossible," shouted Sir John Slingsby, as Mr. Wittingham staggered -towards the door; and he then added in a lower tone, "fools never go -mad, they tell me;" but Doctor Miles, who saw that old Wittingham was -really ill, rose from his seat, and crossing the room, spoke a word or -two to the retreating magistrate, which he was not allowed to finish, -for old Wittingham pushed him rudely aside and darted out of the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before I proceed to give any account of the further inquiries of the -three magistrates who remained, I shall beg leave to follow Mr. -Wittingham to his own house. About two hundred yards' distance from -the justice-room he stopped, and leaned for a minute or two against a -post, and again paused at his own gate as if hardly able to proceed. -He reached his own dwelling, however, and after several attempts, with -a shaking hand, succeeded in thrusting his private key into the lock -and opening the door. The hall was vacant; the whole house still; -there was neither wife nor child to receive and welcome him; no -kindred affection, no friendly greeting to soothe and cheer the sick -old man, whose pursuits, whose hopes, whose tendencies through life -had been totally apart from the kindly sympathies of our nature. But -there are times, steel the heart how we may, when a yearning for those -very kindly sympathies will come over us; when the strong frame -broken, the eager energies quelled, the fierce passions dead and still -within us, the strong desires either disappointed or sated, leave us -alone in our weakness, to feel with bitter regret that there are -better things and more enduring than those which we have pursued; and -when the great moral lessons, taught by decay, are heard and listened -to for the first time, when perhaps it is too late to practise them. -That lonely house, that silent hall, the absence of every trace of -warm life and pleasant social companionship, the dull, dead stillness -that pervaded every thing had their effect upon Mr. Wittingham, and a -sad effect it was. All was so quiet and so still; all was so solemn -and so voiceless; he felt as if he were entering his tomb. The very -sunshine, the bright sunshine that, streaming through the fanlight -over the door, fell in long rays upon the marble-floor, had something -melancholy in it, and he thought "It will soon shine so upon my -grave." What was to him then the satisfaction of the greedy love of -gold, that creeping ivy of the heart, that slowly growing, day by day, -chokes every softer and gentler offspring of that on which it rests? -What was to him the gratification of that vanity, which was all that -the acquisition of wealth had satisfied? Nothing, all nothing. He -stood there friendless, childless, companionless, alone; sick at -heart, disappointed in all those expectations he had formed, having -reaped bitterness from the very success of his labours, and finding no -medicine either for the heart or the body in the gold he had -accumulated or the station he had gained.</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused there for a moment, whilst a deep and bitter anguish of the -regret of a whole life took possession of him, and then staggering on -into the trim, well-arranged, cold and orderly library, he sunk into -one of the arm-chairs by the side of the fireless hearth and rang the -bell sharply. For two or three minutes no one appeared, and then he -rang again, saying to himself,</p> - -<p class="normal">"There never were such bad servants as mine; ay, ay, it wants a -mistress of a house," and he rang again furiously.</p> - -<p class="normal">In about a minute after the door opened, and Mrs. Billiter appeared, -and Mr. Wittingham inquired, angrily, why nobody came at his summons? -The housekeeper replied,</p> - -<p class="normal">"That she thought the footman had come, but finding the bell ring -again she had hastened up herself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham's rage was then turned upon the footman, and after -denouncing him in very vehement terms and condemning him to expulsion -from his household, his anger either worked itself off, or his -strength became exhausted, and he sat for a moment or two in silence, -till Mrs. Billiter quietly began to move towards the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, Billiter," he cried; "what are you going for? I tell you I am -ill, woman, very ill."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was going to send for Mr. Slattery," said Billiter, in a cold tone; -"I saw you were ill, Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Send for the devil!" exclaimed Mr. Wittingham, "that fellow Slattery -is no good at all. Here have I been taking his soap-pills and his -cordial-boluses for these three weeks, and am no better but rather -worse. I will go to bed, Billiter--get me a cup of hot coffee--I feel -very ill indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had better see some one," said Mrs. Billiter, "for you don't look -right at all, and it would take some hours to get another doctor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, send for the man if it must be so," said Mr. Wittingham, -"but he does nothing but cram one with potions and pills just to make -up a long bill. Here, help me upstairs, I will go to bed, and bring -me a cup of strong coffee--I declare I can scarcely stand."</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as Mr. Wittingham was safely deposited in his room, Mrs. -Billiter descended to the kitchen, and sent the housemaid at once for -Mr. Slattery, taking care to spend as much time as possible on the -preparation of the coffee, not judging it by any means a good beverage -for her master, in which she was probably, right. The surgeon, -however, was so long ere he appeared, that she was obliged to carry up -the coffee to Mr. Wittingham, whom she found retching violently, and -complaining of violent pains. He nevertheless drank the coffee to the -last drop, in the more haste as Mrs. Billiter expressed an opinion it -would do him harm; after having accomplished which he sank back upon -his pillow exhausted, and closed his eyes. The colour of his skin was -now of a shade of deep green, approaching to black under his eyes, and -the housekeeper, as she stood by his bedside and gazed at him, thought -to herself that it would not last long. It must not be pretended that -she was in any degree greatly affected at the prospect of her master's -speedy demise, though she had lived in his service very many years, -for he was not one to conciliate affection in any one, and her -meditations were more of how she could best serve the graceless lad, -whose disposition she had assisted to ruin, than of his father's -probable fate.</p> - -<p class="normal">While she thus paused and reflected, the quick, creaky step of Mr. -Slattery was on the stairs, and the moment after he entered the room, -rubbing gently together a pair of hands, the fingers of which were fat -and somewhat red, though very soft and shapeless, presenting the -appearance of four long sausages and a short one. He had always a -cheerful air, Mr. Slattery, for he fancied it comforted his patients, -kept up their spirits, and prevented them from sending for other -advice. Thus he would stand and smile upon a dying man, as if he had a -real and sincere pleasure in his friend's exit from a world of woe; -and very few people could discover from the worthy gentleman's -countenance whether a relation was advancing quietly towards recovery -or the tomb. Thus with a jaunty step he approached Mr. Wittingham's -bedside, sat down, and as the sick man opened his eyes, laughed -benignantly, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, my dear Sir, what is all this? You must have been agitating -yourself," and at the same time he put his fingers on the pulse.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Agitated myself!" cried Mr. Wittingham, "it is that old bankrupt -brute, Sir John Slingsby, has nearly driven me mad, and I believe -these servants will finish it. Why the devil do you leave my wig -there, Billiter? Put it upon the block; don't you see Mr. Slattery is -sitting upon it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I declare," cried the surgeon, "I thought I felt as if I were -sitting upon a cat or something of that kind. But, my dear Sir, you -must really keep yourself quiet or you will bring yourself into a -feverish state. The pulse is hard and quick now, and your skin is very -hot and dry. We must make a little addition to the soap pill, and I -will send you directly a stomachic cordial-draught, combined with a -little narcotic, to produce comfortable sleep."</p> - -<p class="normal">He still kept his fingers on the pulse, gazing into the sick man's -eyes, till Mr. Wittingham could have boxed his ears, and at length he -said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"The draught must be repeated every two hours if you do not sleep, so -that you had better have somebody sit up with you to give it you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will have no such thing," said Mr. Wittingham, "I can't bear to -have people pottering about in my room all night; I can take the -draughts very well myself if they are put down by me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But they must be shaken before taken," said Mr. Slattery.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, I can shake them," said Mr. Wittingham; and the worthy -surgeon, finding his patient obstinate, gave up the point. He -proceeded to ask a variety of questions, however, to which he received -nothing but gruff and grumbling replies, the worthy gentleman -principally insisting upon receiving something which would relieve the -great pain he felt in his side. Thereupon Mr. Slattery undertook to -explain to him all the various causes which might produce that pain; -but the confused crowd of gall-bladders and gall-stones, and indurated -livers, and kidneys, and ducts, and glands, conveyed very little -tangible information to the mind of his hearer, and only served to -puzzle, alarm, and irritate him. At length, however, the surgeon -promised and vowed that he would send him all manner of remedies for -his evils, and spoke in such a confident tone of his being better on -the next day, or the day after, that he left him more composed. The -housekeeper followed Mr. Slattery out of the room, but did not think -fit to make any observation till they reached the foot of the stairs, -when she touched Mr. Slattery gently on the arm and beckoned him into -the dining-room, "He seems in a bad way, Sir," said the housekeeper.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A case of jaundice, Mrs. Billiter," replied the surgeon, raising his -eyebrows, "which is never very pleasant."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I want to know if there is any danger, Mr. Slattery," continued -Mrs. Billiter, "it is very necessary that people should be aware."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, there is always danger in every disease," answered the surgeon, -who abominated a straightforward answer to such questions; but then, -bethinking himself, and seeing that it might be better to be a little -more explicit, he added, "Jaundice, even the green, or black jaundice, -as it is sometimes called, which your master has, is not in itself by -any means a dangerous disease; but there are accidents, which occur in -the progress of an illness, that may produce very fatal results, -sometimes in a moment. This is by no means uncommon in jaundice. You -see the cause of that yellow, or green tint of the skin and eyes is -this, either in consequence of biliary calculi, or the construction -of the ducts leading from the gall-bladder, or pressure upon the -gall-bladder itself. The bile is prevented from flowing, as it -naturally does, into the intestinal canal."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord 'a mercy," cried Mrs. Billiter, "what do I know of all such -stuff? I never heard of people having canals in their inside before, -or ducks either, except when they had eaten them roasted; and that -I'll swear my master hasn't for the last two months. Gall he has, sure -enough, and bitterness too, as the scripture says."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wait a moment, wait a moment, and you will see it all clearly -directly," said the worthy surgeon. "As I have said, the bile being -thus prevented from flowing in its natural course is absorbed into the -vascular system; and, as long as it is deposited merely on the mucous -membrane, showing itself, as we see, in the discolouration of the -cuticle, no harm ensues; but the deposition of the smallest drop of -bile on the membranes of the brain acts as the most virulent poison on -the whole nervous system, and sudden death very frequently follows, -sometimes in five minutes, sometimes in an hour or two. Now this was -the reason why I wished you to sit up with him to-night; but, as he -wont hear of it, it can't be helped; and one thing is certain, that -even if you were there, you could do no good, should such a thing -occur; for I know no remedial means any more than for the bite of a -rattlesnake."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wish he would see his son," said Mrs. Billiter, "but you told him -he would be better to-morrow or the next day, and so there is no hope -of it; for, unless he is frightened out of his wits, he would fly into -a fury at the very name of the thing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, wait till to-morrow, wait till to-morrow," said Mr. Slattery, -"and if I see that it won't hurt him, I will frighten him a bit. I -don't see that there is any danger just at present, if he keeps -himself quiet; and he must not be irritated on any account. However, -if I were you, I would be ready to go to him directly, if he rings his -bell; and in the meantime I'll send him the composing draught."</p> - -<p class="normal">Notwithstanding Mr. Slattery's composing draughts, Mr. Wittingham -passed a wretched night. He was feverish, heated, full of dark and -horrible fancies, hearing the blood going in his head like a mill, and -thinking of every thing that was miserable within the whole range of a -not very extensive imagination. He bore it obstinately, however, for -some hours, taking the potions by his bedside, within even less than -the prescribed intervals, but finding no relief. At length he began to -wonder, if people would hear him when he rang. He found himself -growing weaker and more weak; and he suffered exceeding pain, till -darkness and the torture of his own thoughts became intolerable; and, -stretching out his hand, he rang the bell about three o'clock in the -morning. The old housekeeper, who had remained dressed close at hand, -was in his room in a moment; and Mr. Wittingham felt as much pleased -and grateful, as it was in his nature to feel. She did her best to -soothe and comfort him; and, just as the light was coming in, the -sedative medicines, which he had taken, began to produce some effect; -and he fell into a heavy sleep. Nevertheless, when Mr. Slattery -visited him, he found no great improvement; but a warm bath produced -some relief. The worthy surgeon began to fancy, however, from all the -symptoms that he saw, that he was likely to lose a patient of some -importance; and he judged that it might be as well to establish a -claim upon that patient's successor. He therefore determined to take -the advocacy of Harry Wittingham's cause upon himself; and, in order -to prepare the way for what he had to say in the evening, he gave the -worthy gentleman under his hands a significant hint, that he was in a -good deal of danger.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham heard the announcement in silence, closed his eyes, -compressed his lips, and seemed more terribly affected than the worthy -surgeon had at all expected. He therefore judged it best to throw in a -little consolation before he proceeded further, and he continued in a -soothing and cajoling tone:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know you to be a man of strong mind, my dear Sir, and not likely to -be depressed at the thought of a little peril. Therefore, if I had -thought the case hopeless, I should have told you so at once. It is -not so, however, at all; and I only wished to warn you, that there was -some danger, in order to show you the necessity of keeping yourself -quite quiet and taking great care."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham answered not a word; and, after a very unpleasant -pause, the surgeon took his leave, promising to come again in the -evening.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he did return, Mr. Slattery found his patient wonderfully -composed as he thought. Nevertheless, there was an awkward something -about the pulse, a sort of heavy suppressed jar, which did not make -him augur very favourably of his prospects. As he sat by the bedside -with his fingers upon the wrist and his eyes half shut, as if -considering all the slightest indications which might be afforded by -that small agitated current that beat and quivered beneath his touch, -what was Mr. Slattery reflecting upon? Not Mr. Wittingham's state, -except as far as it was to influence his conduct in a non-medical -capacity. He said to himself--or thought, which is the same thing, -"This old gentleman will go. He has not stamina to struggle with such -a disease. As I can do little for the Wittingham present, I way as -well do what I can for the Wittingham to come. If I show myself his -friend, he may show himself mine; and though perhaps the discussion -may make life's feeble tide ebb a little faster, it is not much matter -whether it be low water half an hour sooner or later."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Billiter, however, did not happen to be in the room at the -moment, and Mr. Slattery resolved to have a witness to his benevolent -proceedings. He therefore asked numerous questions, and discussed -various important points affecting the sick man's health till the good -housekeeper appeared. He then gradually led the conversation round to -young Harry Wittingham, remarking that he had had a long drive since -the morning, and speaking of Buxton's Inn, as one of the places at -which he had called.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the way, I did not see your son, my dear Sir," he added, "he was -out. Indeed he may be considered as quite well now, and only requires -care of himself, kind attention from others, and a mind quiet and at -ease."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Wittingham said not a word, and Mr. Slattery mistook his silence -entirely. "I now think, my dear Sir," he continued, "that it would be -a great comfort to you if you would have him home. Under present -circumstances it would be advisable, I think, I do indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then the storm burst, then the smothered rage broke forth with fearful -violence. I will not repeat all Mr. Wittingham said, for a great deal -was unfit for repetition. He cursed, he swore, he gave Mr. Slattery -over to perdition, he declared that he would never let his son darken -his doors again, that he had cast him off, disinherited him, trusted -he might come to beg his bread. He told the surgeon to get out of his -house and never to let him see him again; he vowed that he was glad he -was dying, for then that scoundrel, his son, would soon find out what -it was to offend a father, and would understand that he could not make -his peace whenever he pleased by sending any pitiful little pimping -apothecary to try and frighten him into forgiveness. In vain Mr. -Slattery strove to speak, in vain he endeavoured to excuse himself, in -vain he took a tone of authority, and told his patient he would kill -himself, if he gave way to such frantic rage. Again and again Mr. -Wittingham, sitting bolt upright in bed, with a face black and green -with wrath and jaundice, told him to get out of the house, to quit the -room, to close the books and strike a balance; and at length the -surgeon was fairly driven forth, remonstrating and protesting, unheard -amidst the storm of his patient's words.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Billiter did not think fit to follow him, for she knew her master -well, and that his ever ready suspicions would be excited by the least -sign of collusion. Besides, she was not altogether well pleased that -Mr. Slattery had thought fit to take the business out of her hands -without consulting her, and made as she termed it, a fine kettle of -fish of the whole affair. Thus she acted perfectly honestly, when Mr. -Wittingham turned upon her as soon as the surgeon was gone, -exclaiming,</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do you think of all this, woman? What do you think of his -impertinence?"</p> - -<p class="normal">And she replied, "I think him a meddling little fool, Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that he is, Billiter, that he is!" answered Mr. Wittingham, "and -I believe he has tried to frighten me, just to serve his own purposes. -But he shall find himself mistaken, that he shall.--He has done me -harm enough, though--putting me in such a passion. My head aches as if -it would split," and Mr. Wittingham pressed his hand upon his -forehead, and sunk back upon his pillow.</p> - -<p class="normal">By this time night was falling fast; and Mrs. Billiter retired to -obtain lights; when she returned, Mr. Wittingham seemed dozing, -exhausted, as she thought, by the fit of passion, to which he had -given way. Sitting down, therefore, at a distance, she took up a book -and began to read. It was one of those strange, mystical compositions, -the product of a fanatical spirit, carried away into wild and daring -theories regarding things wisely hidden from the eyes of man, in -which, sometimes, by one of the strange contrarieties of human nature, -the most selfish, material, and unintellectual persons take great -delight. It was called the "Invisible World Displayed," and it had -been lately bought by Mr. Wittingham, since he had fallen into the -melancholy and desponding state, which usually accompanies the disease -he laboured under. For more than an hour Mrs. Billiter went on reading -of ghosts, and spirits, and phantoms, and devils, till her hair began -to stand erect under a thick cushion-cap. But still there was a sort -of fascination about the book which carried her on. She heard her -master breathing hard close by; and more than once she said to -herself, "He's getting a good sleep now, at all events." At length she -began to think the sleep lasted somewhat long; and, laying down the -book, she went and looked in between the curtains. He had not moved at -all, and was snoring aloud; so, as the clock had struck eleven she -thought she might as well send the other servants to bed, resolving to -sit up in his room and sleep in the great chair. About a quarter of an -hour was occupied in this proceeding, and in getting some refreshment; -and, when she returned, opening the door gently, she heard the same -sonorous breathing; and, seating herself again, she took up the book -once more, thinking: "I dare say he will wake soon; so I had better -not go to sleep, ere I have given him the other draught." Wonderful -were the tales that she there read, of people possessed of miraculous -warnings, and of voices heard, and of apparitions seen in the dead -hour of night. Tarningham clock struck twelve, whilst she was still -poring over the pages; but, though she was a good deal excited by what -she read, fatigue and watching would have their effect; and her eyes -became somewhat heavy. To cast off this drowsiness, she rose and -quietly put the room in order; then sat down again, and had her hand -once more upon the book, when suddenly the heavy breathing stopped for -a minute. "He is going to wake now," said Mrs. Billiter to herself; -but scarcely had the thought passed through her mind, when she heard a -sudden sort of rattling and snorting noise from the bed; and, jumping -up in alarm, she ran forward, and drew back the curtain. The light -fell straight upon the face of the sick man; and a horrible sight it -presented. The features were all in motion; the eyes rolling in the -head; the teeth gnashing together; foam issuing from the mouth; and -the whole limbs agitated, so that the bed-clothes were drawn into a -knot around him. Mr. Wittingham, in short, was in strong convulsions. -Mrs. Billiter was, naturally, greatly alarmed; and her first impulse -was to run to the door to call for help; but suddenly a new view of -the case seemed to strike her: "No, I won't," she said, and, going -back, she got some hartshorn, and applied it to Mr. Wittingham's -nostrils, sprinkled some water on his face, wet his temples, and did -every thing she could think of to put an end to the fit. It continued -violently for several minutes, however; and she thought, "Perhaps he -ought to be bled; I ought to send for Slattery, I do believe;" but at -that moment the spasm seemed relaxed; the contorted limbs fell -languid; a calm expression spread over the features; the eyelids fell -heavily, rose, and fell again; and though the fingers continued to -grasp the bed-clothes, it was with no violence. "He is getting -better," said the housekeeper to herself. The next moment the motions -of the hands ceased; a sharp shudder passed over the whole frame; the -chest heaved and fell; then came a deep sigh; and the eyes opened; the -jaw dropped; all became motionless; there was not a sound. Mrs. -Billiter listened. Not the rustle of the lightest breath could be -heard. She held the candle close to his eyes; the eyelids quivered -not; the pupil did not contract. A cold, damp dew stood upon the -sunken temples; and all was still but the silence of death. She set -down the candle on the chair, and gazed at him for two or three -minutes, almost as motionless as the dead body before her; then, -suddenly starting, she said in a low tone: "There is no time to be -lost; I must think of the poor boy; for he was a hard-hearted old man; -and there is no knowing what he may have done. She pressed her hand -upon her forehead tight for a minute or two, in deep thought; then -putting the candle on the table at a distance from the bed-curtains, -she went out, ran up stairs, and called up the footman, waiting at his -door till he came out.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Master is very ill, John," said Mrs. Billiter; "I don't think he will -get through the night, so you must run up--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And bring down Mr. Slattery," said the footman, interrupting her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," answered the housekeeper, "Slattery said he could do no good; -and master and he had a sad quarrel, but you must go and call Mr. -Harry. Tell him to come down directly, and not to lose a minute."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had better take the horse," said the man, "for Buxton's Inn is a -good bit of a way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is not at Buxton's Inn," answered Mrs. Billiter, "but at Morris's -little cottage on Chandleigh-heath. You can take the horse if you -like, but be quick about it for Heaven's sake. It is a clear, -moonlight night, and you can gallop all the way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I will," said the man, and ran down stairs.</p> - -<p class="normal">Without calling any one else, Mrs. Billiter returned to the chamber of -death, looked into the bed for a moment or two and saw that all was -still. She knew he was dead right well, but yet it seemed strange to -her that he had not moved. There was something awful in it, and she -sat down upon a chair and wept. She had not loved him; she had not -esteemed or respected him; she had known him to be harsh, cruel, and -unkind, but yet there was something in seeing the life of the old man -go out solitary, untended by kindred hands, without a friend, without -a relation near, with bitterness in his spirit and enmity between him -and his only child, that moved the secret sources of deep emotion in -the woman's heart and opened the fountain of tears.</p> - -<p class="normal">While she yet wept, she heard the horse's feet pass by towards -Chandleigh-heath, and then for about an hour all was silent. Buried in -deep sleep, the inhabitants of the little town knew not, cared not, -thought not of all that was passing in the dwelling of their rich -neighbour. At length a distant sound was heard of hoofs beating fast -the hard road; it came nearer and nearer; and starting up, Mrs. -Billiter ran down stairs with a light in her hand and opened the -hall-door. The next moment she heard the garden-gate opened, and a -figure came forward leading a horse.</p> - -<p class="normal">Casting the rein over the beast's neck and giving it a cut with the -whip to send it towards the stables, Harry Wittingham sprang forward, -ran up the steps, and entered the house. His face was not pale but -flushed, and his eyes fiery.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Master Harry," said Mrs. Billiter, as soon as she saw him, "he is -gone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gone!" exclaimed Harry Wittingham, "do you mean he is dead?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," answered the old woman; "but come up, Sir, come up, there is -much to be thought of."</p> - -<p class="normal">Without a word the young man stood beside her, whilst she closed and -locked the door, and then followed her up stairs to his dead father's -room. She suffered him to gaze into the bed for a minute or two, with -haggard eyes and heavy brow, but then she touched his arm, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Master Harry, Master Harry, you had better think of other things just -now; he was very hard upon you, and I can't help thinking tried to do -you wrong. Four or five days ago he wrote a great deal one afternoon, -and then told me afterwards 'he had remembered me in his will.' You -had better see what that will is--he kept all the papers he cared most -about in that table-drawer--the key hangs upon his watch-chain."</p> - -<p class="normal">With shaking hands Harry Wittingham took up the watch, approached the -table and opened the drawer with the key. There were several papers -within and different note-books, but one document lay at the top with -a few words written on the outside, and the young man instantly took -it up, opened and began to read it. Mrs. Billiter gazed at him, -standing at a distance, with a look of anxiety and apprehension. When -he had read about a dozen lines his face assumed a look of terrible -distress he dropped the paper from his hand, and sinking into a chair, -exclaimed,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good God, he thought I shot at him!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you didn't? you didn't, Master Harry?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I?--I never thought of it!" exclaimed Harry Wittingham.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Billiter ran forward, picked up the paper, and put it in his hand -again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There's a large fire in the kitchen to keep water hot," she said in a -whisper; "all the maids are in bed, and the man has not come back yet, -but he won't be long--be quick, Master Harry, be quick."</p> - -<p class="normal">The young man paused, gazed thoughtfully at the paper for a moment or -two, then took up the light and hurried out of the room.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">We must go back to an early hour of that same Sunday morning, and to -the cottage of Stephen Gimlet, near the little church. Both Stephen -himself and his mother-in-law had risen betimes; and the boy was still -sleeping in his bed. The old lady spent three-quarters of an hour in -writing an epistle, with her spectacles on her nose; while her -son-in-law ate his breakfast; and when the act of composition was -over, she folded up in the letter an old piece of paper, partly -printed, partly written, the very same in fact, which had flown out of -her family Bible one morning, when poor Billy Lamb, coming in, had -found the book in the hands of Stephen Gimlet's little boy. She then -added thereto an old, somewhat crumpled, and well-worn letter, first -reading over the address attentively, got a light and a small piece of -red sealing-wax, sealed the letter, and stamped it with the end of her -thimble.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, Stephen," she said, giving the letter to her son-in-law, "he -is back now, that's certain; take that up to him, and tell him, that -if he wants to hear any more about it, I can give him information of -the whole. I know all the names, and I believe the minister is alive -still.--I would not go out of the house, if I were you, till I saw -him; and, if by any chance he should not be come down yet, I would -hang about and catch him, when he arrives; for it is only just right -he should know how the whole matter stands, before he goes any -further."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I won't miss him this time, goody," said Ste Gimlet; "so you and the -boy get your dinner, if I should not come back in time. I am very -uneasy at its not having been done before; for we poor people cannot -tell what may become of such things with great folks, and after all -you tell me, I am very sure, that blackguard fellow Moreton is not -hanging about here for any good."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, Stephen Gimlet put the letter carefully up, and went -away, as usual, with his gun in his hand, and his dog following. It -was not yet more than half-past five o'clock; and, recollecting that -the servants of Sir John Slingsby were not very matutinal in their -habits, the gamekeeper thought he might as well go upon one of his -rounds, which led him near to Chandleigh Heath, and see if he could -get any inkling of Captain Moreton's proceedings. He walked slowly -along up the lane from his own house, crossed the high-road from -Tarningham to London, and then taking a path across the fields, soon -came to another lane, which led him to a sandy way, having a high -hedge with elm-trees on the left, and Chandleigh Heath on the right. -It was sunk down some way beneath the rest of the country, so as to -give no prospect over the common; but, a couple of hundred yards -further on, a footpath went up over the bank and divided into two, -something after the fashion of a bird's merrythought, one branch -leading to an old tumulus, topped with firs, and the other, which was -much shorter, running down to the cottage inhabited by Captain -Moreton. About twenty yards before he reached this turning, the dog, -which followed at Stephen Gimlet's heels, began to growl in a somewhat -angry manner; and the gamekeeper turned round to look in what -direction the beast's eyes were bent. Before he could ascertain, -however, a man suddenly sprang over the hedge, and cast himself upon -him, seizing the barrel of his gun with both hands. A fierce struggle -ensued; for Stephen Gimlet at once perceived who his adversary was; -and the gamekeeper, though taken unawares, was decidedly getting the -better, when he suddenly found his arms seized from behind, and a cord -passed quickly round them. The next instant the cord was drawn tight -in spite of all his efforts; but at the same moment he had the -satisfaction of hearing the voice of Harry Wittingham exclaim: "Damn -the dog, he has bit me to the bone;" and, as his legs were free, he -made so strenuous an application of his thick-nailed shoes to the -shins of Captain Moreton, that the respectable gentleman let go his -hold; and, darting away, Stephen Gimlet ran forward, as fast as he -could, in the hope of meeting some one, who would render him -assistance. I have said, that his assailants sprang upon him from -behind; and, consequently, the only paths open for the fugitive were -those which led towards the cottage or to the tumulus on the heath. In -the latter direction he was not likely to find any one to help him; -but down the lane, which passed close by the cottage, were a number of -poor men's houses, the inhabitants of which usually went out to work -about that hour. It is a pity that Stephen Gimlet did not recollect -that it was Sunday; but so it was; and the good labourers were taking -an additional nap to refresh them after the toils of the week. No one -knows how much one limb aids another, even in the peculiar functions -of the latter, till some deprivation has taken place. Now, at the -first consideration, we should say, that a man did not run with his -arms; but yet the arms help a man very much in running; and Stephen -Gimlet soon found to his cost, that he could not run as he was -accustomed to do, without them. He was much swifter of foot than -either of those who followed; but yet, by the time that he had got -three hundred yards down the lane, they had recovered their hold of -him and thrown him down. In fact, it was a great convenience to them, -that he had run; for every step that he had taken was in the direction -which they had intended to carry him; and when they overtook him, he -was not thirty yards from the garden-gate of the cottage. He was -easily dragged along for that distance, brought into the house, and -put into a room, which had been constructed by the retired hosier for -what he called the butler's-pantry, though it is by no means to be -understood that he ever had, or expected to have, such a thing as a -butler, or any thing the least like it. Nevertheless, as the room was -destined to contain a certain amount of silver spoons, tea-pots, and -other little pieces of the precious metal, strong bars had been put up -to the windows; and the butler's-pantry now formed a very convenient -little cage for the bird, which the two gentlemen had caught out upon -the common.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before they shut the door upon him, Mr. Henry Wittingham made some -proposal to Captain Moreton in a low voice, to which the other -replied:</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no; he'll make an outcry and wake the women; and then we shall -have it all over the place. You can lick him well before we let him -out, if you like. Let us attend to the main business first, and, -having got him in, keep him in; nobody knowing any thing about -it.--Good morning, Master Wolf; you shall have some bread-and-water, -if you like, but nothing else for the next four-and-twenty hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">Stephen Gimlet answered not; and it is to be remarked, that--whether, -because he thought that shouting would be of no use, or that he chose -to imitate the beast, whose name he had acquired, in its taciturn -habits under adversity--not a word had he uttered from the beginning -of the fray until the end. He suffered the door to be shut upon him in -silence; and while he remained revolving what was to be done, or -whether any thing could be done, his two captors retired to the little -drawing-room, where they sat down and laughed for a moment at the -success of their scheme. Their first merriment, however, soon gave way -to some uneasy sensations. Captain Moreton rubbed his shins, which had -suffered considerably from the contact with Stephen Gimlet's shoes. -Harry Wittingham unceremoniously pulled off his boot, and found his -whole stocking stained with blood, and the marks of four large fangs -very apparent in the heel and tendon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come along with me," said Captain Moreton, when he saw his -companion's state; "we'll get a little salt and water; you shall wash -your heel with it, and I will wash my shins, for that d--d fellow has -kicked all the skin off--salt and water is the best thing in the -world."</p> - -<p class="normal">While they go to perform the part of surgeons upon themselves, I will, -with the reader's leave, return to speak of one of the actors in the -scene of Stephen Gimlet's capture, who has not had as much notice as -he deserves. The dog, who had followed him from his own cottage, after -having paid due attention to the heel of Mr. Wittingham, and received -a severe kick for his pains, gave chase to the pursuers of his master -down the lane, tore Captain Moreton's coat with a spring and a snap; -but then suddenly, as if he saw that his own unassisted efforts could -do little, and judged, that it might be right to seek assistance, he -darted off at a right angle across the common, with his head hanging -down, his tongue out, and some angry foam dropping from his mouth. He -ran straight through a farm-yard on the opposite side of the heath, -bit at a woman who was going to milk the cows, but only tore her -apron, wounded the farmer's dog with a sharp snap, went clear over the -wall and straight on toward Tarningham, biting at every living thing -that came in his way, but never stopping to ascertain whether he had -inflicted much or little evil. This misanthropical spirit soon called -the attention of the people, and excited their indignation. They gave -the poor dog a bad name; and, though no one could be found to -undertake the exact task of hanging him, they followed with -pitchforks, sticks, shovels, stones, and a very miscellaneous -assortment of other weapons, such as pokers, tongs, &c.; and, driving -him into the court-yard of the mayor's house at Tarningham, succeeded -in killing him without doing any other further mischief.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such is the tragic history of Stephen Gimlet's poor dog; but of none -of the particulars were Captain Moreton and Harry Wittingham made -acquainted at the time; for both those gentlemen thought fit to keep -themselves strictly to the house during the whole morning. Of much and -many things did they talk; they comforted the outward man, as had been -proposed, with salt and water; they comforted the inner man with -toast, coffee, eggs, and broiled ham. The broiled ham left them -thirsty; and at twelve o'clock they tried to assuage such unpleasant -sensations by a glass of cold brandy-and-water; and, finding that not -succeed according to their expectation, they tried another glass hot. -After that, Harry Wittingham declared he felt tired and sleepy with -getting up so early, and retired to lie down for a time; but he -continued sleeping in a broken sort of confused slumber for between -three and four hours, when he was roused by hearing some very high -tones, and apparently sharp words proceeding from the neighbouring -room. Without difficulty he recognised the voices of Captain Moreton -and his fair companion, who had seemed in no very good humour when he -supped with him the night before; but he could not distinguish the -subject of dispute on the present occasion; and, looking at his watch, -he found that it was past four o'clock. Knowing that the dinner-hour -at the cottage was five, he washed his face and hands, arranged his -hair, as best he might, and went down to the drawing-room, still -hearing the strife of tongues raging in the adjoining room.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was some quarter of an hour before Captain Moreton joined him; and -he was then informed by his worthy friend, that dinner would be half -an hour later that day, as the maid had been sent to Buxton's Inn, for -the purpose of ordering a chaise to be at the door at nightfall.</p> - -<p class="normal">This announcement startled Harry Wittingham a good deal.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But where the devil are you going to, Moreton?" he inquired; "you are -not going to leave me alone with this fellow, are you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only for a short time, Mr. Wittingham," answered Captain Moreton, in -his easy, nonchalant way, "not long enough for him to eat you, or for -you to eat him. You know what obstinate devils these women are; and I -have got to do with the most pigheaded of the whole race. The fact is, -Wittingham, we have got in our hands, if we do but use it properly, -the means of having full revenge upon one or two good friends of ours; -amongst the rest, that fellow, who, as you ought to remember, was -second to Captain Hayward in his duel with you, Mr. Beauchamp, he -calls himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, I hear he has turned out a Lord Lenham, and is going to marry -old Sir John's pretty daughter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Exactly so," answered Captain Moreton, drily; "but if he doesn't -mind, his wedding tour will be a different one to what he expects; -however, I have the greatest difficulty in preventing my fair friend -Charlotte from spoiling the whole business; for she is in one of her -violent fits, and then she gets as mad as a March hare. She and I must -act together; but I must not appear in the business; for you see there -are two or three little things that the people might bring against me. -I have resolved, therefore, to get over to Winterton, till to-morrow's -work is blown over; for she will be present to witness the marriage, -do what I can to stop her. As the mischief would have it, however, I -threatened to blow the whole matter up, if she would not submit to -management; and so she will not let me out of her sight, threatening -at the same time to cut my throat, or some pretty little thing of that -kind by way of making herself a pleasant companion. However, she must -go with me, that's clear, and come over in a chaise tomorrow to the -wedding. If she does not spoil all, and this man here can be kept in, -we have got them completely in our power."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, what in fortune's name can he have to do with Lord Lenham's -marriage?" asked Harry Wittingham.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know, exactly," answered Captain Moreton, musing gravely; -"but I have a good many suspicions about him, which it won't do to -mention just yet. All I ask, is to have him kept in here, till after -the marriage is over; and you will have nothing further to do with it, -than to keep the key of the room and prevent any of the girls from -going in. By so doing you will punish him ten times more than if you -licked him for an hour. I know you are not given to be afraid of any -thing; but, if people should make a fuss about it, it is very easy to -say you did it, to punish him for knocking you down the way he did."</p> - -<p class="normal">Harry Wittingham smiled; and the moment after Captain Moreton -continued: "Here she comes, by Jove; I'll get out of the way for the -present, and cram some meat down that fellow's throat without untying -him. You'll stay, Wittingham, won't you? I shall be back to-morrow -night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, I must stay, I suppose," said Harry Wittingham; "for good old -Dame Billiter thinks I shall be here till to-morrow night; and I -expect her to send me up some money, if she can get it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Captain Moreton did not wait for any thing further than this assent, -but disappeared by the right-hand door; and the moment after, the fair -lady, whom I have so often mentioned, entered by the other. Her face -was somewhat redder than usual; but that was the only sign of -agitating passions that could be discovered in her demeanour. Her step -was calm, stealthy, and cat-like; her eyes looked cold and flat, with -a meaningless sort of glassy glare about them, as if purposely covered -by a semi-opaque film to veil what was passing beneath. She looked -slowly round the room, without taking any notice of Mr. Wittingham, -though she had not seen him that day; and, walking round to the -mock-rosewood sofa, she sat down in silence and took some papers out -of the drawer of the table. Harry Wittingham wished her good morning, -and addressed to her some commonplace observation, to which she -replied with a forced smile, and then busied herself with her papers -again. When Captain Moreton re-entered the room about a quarter of an -hour afterwards, a sudden fierce gleam came into her eyes and passed -away again; but she uttered not a word; and, dinner being announced -soon after, she took Mr. Wittingham's arm and walked into the small -dining-room. When the meal was over, and she left the gentlemen to -their wine, she passed by Captain Moreton's chair, and bending down -her head, she said in a low voice, but loud enough for Mr. Wittingham -to hear:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Remember, Moreton, remember! You know me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Captain Moreton only laughed, though the words were said with a -threatening manner; and, as soon as she was gone, he plied Harry -Wittingham with wine, which was followed by brandy-and-water; and in -the pleasant occupation thus provided, the two worthy compeers -continued to exercise themselves, till the sky grew grey, and the roll -of a chaise was heard before the garden.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, Wittingham," cried Captain Moreton, starting up, "there's the -key of the little cellar--small enough, but there's sufficient in it -to lay you dead-drunk for a fortnight. There's the key of the cage, -too; keep the bird safe till ten or eleven o'clock to-morrow. I will -try to keep my grey mare in hand; and, if we can manage both, -you will hear some news tomorrow night, that will make you laugh -heartily--Farewell, my good fellow," and going to the door, he shouted -aloud, "Where's the portmanteau?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I put it in the shay, Sir," said the girl; and, turning once more to -Harry Wittingham, Captain Moreton told him that he should see him -before ten the following night, and went to seek his fair companion.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a few minutes more they were gone; but the gentleman they left -behind did not see any reason why he should not finish the bottle of -wine on the table, "just to take the taste of the brandy out of his -mouth." After that he fell asleep in an armchair; and so sound was his -slumber, that the maid came in twice and looked at him; but seeing -that there was no probability of his waking for some hours, she put a -fresh pair of candles on the table, and went to bed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Harry Wittingham slept and dreamed: He thought he had committed some -horrible act, that the hue and cry was raised, the whole county in -pursuit, and that he could hear the galloping of horses coming close -after him. He struggled to spur his own beast forward, but its legs -would not move; and, looking down with horror and consternation, he -found it was a rocking-horse with little bells at its ears and its -tail. Suddenly a constable seemed to grasp him by the shoulder; and, -starting up in agony, he found the servant-girl shaking him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Please, Sir," she said, "Mrs. Billiter has sent up the man to say, -that your father is dying, and you must go down directly."</p> - -<p class="normal">Without a moment's thought or consideration, Harry Wittingham ran out, -snatched up his hat in the passage; and, telling the man to follow on -foot, mounted the horse and rode away to Tarningham.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XL.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The sun shone bright in Stephen Gimlet's cottage for a couple of hours -after dawn, till about an hour before evening's close. For the first -three or four hours the same sunshine seemed to pervade the interior -house, that glowed without. Widow Lamb seemed contented with what she -had done; her meek face wore as warm a smile as ever now shone upon -it; and she busied herself during the morning in all the little -household arrangements, and in teaching the boy his letters. The boy -himself played about merrily, whilst she was occupied with the -inanimate things of the place, and then came and said his letters, -infamously ill, indeed, but still somewhat better than usual. When the -sun got round to his southern-most point, Widow Lamb, not at all -surprised at her son-in-law's absence, as its probability had been -announced beforehand, gave the boy his dinner, and took a very -moderate portion of food herself; but, when the day had three or four -hours declined from its prime, she wondered that Stephen had not come -back, and, at the end of an hour, grew somewhat uneasy. She consoled -herself, however, by supposing, that Lord Lenham had not yet returned -from London, and that Stephen was waiting for his arrival; but another -hour passed, and another; and at length her son, Billy Lamb, made his -appearance, inquiring somewhat anxiously for his brother-in-law.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mrs. Lamb simply told him, that Stephen was out, adding that he had -been away all day.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is droll I haven't seen him," said the boy, "but I dare say he is -vexed about his dog."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, what has happened to the dog?" asked Widow Lamb. "He took it out -with him this morning early."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, but the people of Tarningham killed it for a mad dog," said Billy -Lamb, "I dare say the poor beast was not mad at all. I saw it -afterwards and knew it directly; but I have seen nothing of Stephen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is up at Sir John's," said Widow Lamb, "and I dare say is waiting -till the young lord comes down from London."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, that can't be, mother," replied her son, "for the gentleman came -down yesterday evening; one of our post-boys drove him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That's very odd," said Widow Lamb, "I wonder Stephen has not come -back then. I hope nothing's the matter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, dear no," replied the deformed lad; "you know Ste was always fond -of wandering about, and would, at times, be out for a couple of days -together; but I wanted to tell him that I have found out nothing about -that Captain Moreton, except that he is going away from the cottage -somewhere to-night. I did not see him myself, when I took up the -letters to him to-day; but the servant-girl told she had been sent up -to Buxton's Inn to order a chaise, and that it was to be down there -just at nightfall."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ill birds fly at night," said Widow Lamb; "but I wish Stephen -would come home, for he has been now gone well-nigh twelve hours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, he is safe enough, mother," reiterated her son, "it is not like -if it were night-time, or winter either--but I must get back; for -there will be all the supper-beer to carry out;" and, after a few more -words, he departed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Hour after hour, however, went by; and Stephen Gimlet did not appear, -till the good old lady's apprehensions increased every minute. She put -the boy to bed and sat up and watched; but eight, nine, ten o'clock -came, and no one approached the cottage-door. A terribly anxious night -was that which followed; and, though about midnight Widow Lamb went to -bed, sleep did not visit her eyes for some hours. She lay and revolved -all, that could have happened. She was anxious for her son-in-law; -anxious for the result of his mission to Beauchamp; and she had -resolved to set off early on the morrow morning for Tarningham Park, -taking the boy with her. At about half-past three, however, weariness -overpowered the old woman, and she slept. Her frame was not very -strong; and, exhausted with both watching and anxiety, the slumber -that fell upon her was profound and long. The first thing that awoke -her was the little boy pulling her by the arm and saying, "Granny, -granny, you are a sluggard now, as you called me the other day. I am -very hungry, I want my breakfast."</p> - -<p class="normal">Widow Lamb started up, and looking at her old round watch in its -tortoiseshell-case, she saw that it was half-past seven o'clock. Vexed -and angry with herself, she hurried on her clothes, and proceeded to -give the boy some food, urging him to hasten his meal, as she was -going to take him a walk. The temptation was strong, and at about a -quarter past eight they were out of the cottage, and on the way to -Tarningham Park. She heard village-bells ringing merrily, as on a day -of festival; but Widow Lamb's heart was sad. The whole country was -smiling in the morning light; but, though to a fine mind the beauties -of nature never lose their charm, yet to the old there is, at all -times, a melancholy mingled with the pleasure they produce; and to the -spirit cast down with apprehension, or affliction, the very loveliness -becomes a load. The boy lingered, and would fain have played by the -way; but his grandmother hurried him forward as fast as his little -legs could carry him; and they reached the mansion of Sir John -Slingsby a few minutes before nine. There were carriages already at -the door. Servants were seen bustling about; but all were too busy to -take notice of the old widow and the little boy, till, going into the -court-yard, she addressed herself to one of the helpers in the stable, -whom she had seen and known, and told him her apprehensions about her -son-in-law.</p> - -<p class="normal">The man kindly undertook to make inquiries, and let her know the -result; and leaving her there for some minutes, he came back shortly -after with the butler, who told her, that Stephen Gimlet had certainly -not been there the day before. "I can't stop to talk with you, goody," -he said, in an important tone; "for you see Miss Slingsby is just -going to set out, to be married to Lord Lenham; but, as soon as they -come back from church, I will tell Sir John; and depend upon it he -will have Stephen sought for."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I could speak with Lord Lenham for one minute," said Widow Lamb; -but the man interrupted her, laughing. "You must go down to -Tarningham, then, goody," he said, "for his lordship slept there last -night; or else you can go down to the church of Little Tarningham, -where, I dare say, he is waiting by this time; or, what is better than -all, wait here till they come back; and I'll give Ste Gimlet's little -boy a bit of bride-cake."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, he hurried back again into the house; and Widow Lamb -paused and thought, with the tears in her eyes; but at length she said -aloud, "I will go down to the church;" and, taking the little boy by -the hand, who did not at all like the idea of losing the bride-cake, -she hurried out of the gates of the court, and pursued one of the -small footpaths leading towards Little Tarningham. She was within -fifty yards from the park paling, when Sir John Slingsby's carriages -drove past at a quick rate; and Widow Lamb, though little able from -much exertion, hurried her pace, till the boy was forced to run, to -keep up with her. The church, as the reader knows, was at the distance -of somewhat less than half a mile; and, when Widow Lamb reached it, -there stood before the gates of the little churchyard, two or three -handsome carriages and one post-chaise. Passing quickly along the path -through the cemetery, the old woman approached the door, which was -ajar, and heard the full sonorous voice of Dr. Miles reading the -marriage-service. She pushed open the door gently and went in. There -were a great number of people in the church, collected from Tarningham -and the neighbourhood, some in the little gallery, where they could -see best; some in pews in the body of the church; and one or two in -the aisle. The latter, however, did not prevent the old lady from -seeing straight up to the altar, around which was congregated the -bridal party, with Beauchamp and Captain Hayward on the one side, and -Sir John Slingsby with his family on the other. Just as Widow Lamb -entered, Dr. Miles, standing before the altar, was saying aloud, "I -pronounce that they be man and wife together."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was evident the ceremony was nearly over; the marriage in fact -completed. The benediction was then given, and the psalm said; and, -after all those parts of the service, which are usually read, -Beauchamp drew the arm of Isabella through his own and led her down -the aisle towards the little vestry which stood on the right hand side -of the church. The people in the pews rose up to look over; but, to -the surprise of many, one of the pew-doors opened, before the -newly-married couple had taken two steps; and a lady issued forth, -and, turning her face towards the altar, stood right in the way of the -advancing party. Her eye fixed straight upon Lord Lenham, flashing and -fierce; her lip curled with a smile of contemptuous triumph, while her -brow appeared knit with a heavy frown. At the same moment a voice, -which some persons near recognised as that of Mr. Wharton, the -attorney, exclaimed from the pew which the lady had just left, "Now -she has spoiled it all."</p> - -<p class="normal">But what was the effect of this apparition upon those in whose -presence it so suddenly appeared? Beauchamp staggered and turned -deadly pale; and Isabella recoiled in alarm from that menacing look -and flashing eye, saying in a low tone, "Good Heaven, who is this?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who am I, girl?" said the lady, aloud, "I will tell you who I am, and -let him deny it if he can. I am this man's lawful wife whom you have -just married--look at his face, pale, dastard conscience is upon it. -He is well aware of the truth that I speak and the crime that he has -committed."</p> - -<p class="normal">But Beauchamp instantly recovered himself, and while a dead silence -prevailed in the whole church, he put Isabella's hand into her -father's, advanced a step towards the person before him, and fixing -his eyes firmly upon her, he said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Charlotte Hay, you have laid once more a dark and horrible scheme to -injure me. By cunning artifices and long concealment you have taught -me to believe you were dead for some years, and have waited for this -moment for your revenge--you know it, you dare not deny it--but you -may yet find yourself deceived. In one point you are already deceived; -for, doubtless, judging from your own heart, you imagine I have -concealed previous events from this lady and her family. Such is not -the case; and now you force upon me that which I have always avoided, -the trial whether there ever was any marriage at all between myself -and you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Avoided it, because you knew it could not be questioned," answered -the lady, scornfully. "Your father and yourself took lawyers' opinion -enough, and the reply of every one was that the marriage was perfectly -good and valid."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not worth a straw," said a voice behind her, and turning round with -the look of a demon the eyes of Charlotte Hay lighted on Widow Lamb, -who had walked quietly up the aisle at the commencement of this scene. -For a moment or two she gazed at her as if striving to recall her -face, and then gave a short scream, muttering afterwards to herself,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know who has done this, I know who has done this!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is this, my good woman?" cried Mr. Wharton, stepping out of the -pew, and putting himself at the side of Charlotte Hay.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir John Slingsby was darting forward towards him with wrath in his -countenance, but Doctor Miles held him by the arm, and Widow Lamb -replied boldly,</p> - -<p class="normal">"What I said, Mr. Wharton, was that this lady's pretended marriage -with Lord Lenham, then Mr. St. Leger, was no marriage at all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But why? were you present? what can you know about it? are you one of -the judges of the ecclesiastical court?" asked Mr. Wharton, with -amazing volubility.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am no judge, and was not present though I was in the house," -answered Widow Lamb; "but it was no marriage at all, and I can prove -it, so you need not be terrified, dear young lady, for you are his -lawful wife at this very moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">Charlotte Hay turned towards Isabella with a look of withering scorn, -and exclaimed,</p> - -<p class="normal">"You may be his concubine, girl, if you like, but you can never be his -wife as long as I live."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I say she is his wife," cried Widow Lamb, indignantly, "just as much -as you are the wife of Archibald Graham, the minister of Blackford, my -husband David Lamb's first cousin. You thought all trace of that -marriage was removed; you knew not that there are people living who -witnessed the marriage; you knew not that I had your marriage lines -now in my possession, and a letter from your real husband written long -after Captain Moreton took you away from him, and after your pretended -marriage with this gentleman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Produce them, produce them," cried Mr. Wharton, "let us see what -these wonderful documents are. Such papers often turn out mere -moon-shine in a court of law."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At all events, Sir, this church is not a court of law," said Dr. -Miles, advancing, "such matters must not be argued here, and I must -remark that if this lady had any just cause to oppose this marriage -she was bound to state it when called upon in the solemn manner which -the ritual prescribes. How the fact of her not having done so may -affect the legal questions implicated is not for me to say, but I must -declare that her not having tendered her opposition at the proper -moment was highly wrong, and does not give a favourable impression of -her case."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady turned her fierce eyes upon the rector, and then glared over -the rest of the party, but seemed without a reply, for she made none. -Mr. Wharton came to her assistance with a falsehood, however.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The lady was too much overpowered, Sir, to speak," he said, "and I -was not formally authorised by her to do so. But as to this old woman, -I demand that the documents she mentions be produced, for I have every -reason to believe that this is a mere pretext, in fact a case of fraud -originating in conspiracy, and I shall not scruple to give the good -lady into custody if I can find a constable, unless she instantly -produces the documents." He looked full at Widow Lamb while he spoke, -and then added, "Have you got them? can you produce them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have not got them here," answered the old woman in a faltering -tone, somewhat alarmed at the threat of a man who had ruined her -husband, "but they are safe enough, I am sure, and they shall be -produced whenever there is a trial."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, oh!" cried Mr. Wharton, "what time to manufacture them! But I -will take care of you, my good lady. I will see for a constable -directly, and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nonsense, you rogue!" cried Sir John Slingsby, "you know very well -that such a thing is out of the question. You can manufacture no -charge upon such a ground, whatever others may manufacture."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rogue, Sir John," cried Mr. Wharton, furiously, "that man is the -rogue who does not pay his just debts, and you know whether the name -applies best to me or to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To you, lawyer Wharton," said Stephen Gimlet, coming up the aisle, -"there, hold your tongue, for I heard all your talk with Captain -Moreton this morning, and how you settled all your differences upon -his promising you what you called a <i>post obit bond</i>, to pay you five -thousand pounds upon the death of Lord Harcourt Lenham. There, Goody -Lamb, there is the letter you gave me yesterday; I'll tell you how it -all happened that I could not deliver it by-and-by."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here are the papers, here are the papers!" cried the widow, tearing -open the letter; "here are the marriage lines, as the people call them -in Scotland, between Charlotte Hay and Archibald Graham, and here is -poor Archy's letter to my husband written long after."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had better get into the chaise and go," whispered Mr. Wharton to -the lady, who now stood pale and trembling beside him, and then -raising his voice as if to cover her retreat, he continued: "take -notice, Sir John Slingsby and all persons here present, that I charge -the noble lord there with the crime of bigamy in having intermarried -with Isabella Slingsby, his wife Charlotte Hay being still living, and -that I at once pronounce these things in the old woman's hands merely -forgeries got up between her and Viscount Lenham while he was staying -at the cottage of her son-in-law Stephen Gimlet, <i>alias</i> Wolf. You -will act as you like, Sir John, but it is only a friendly part to say -that if you have any regard for your daughter you will separate her at -once from one who is not and cannot be her husband."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying he walked with a well-assured air to the door of the -church, neither turning to the right nor to the left, but the moment -he turned away Ned Hayward quitted the side of Mary Clifford, and -with a quick step followed the lawyer. He let him pass through the -churchyard and open the gate, but then going up to one of the -post-boys standing by Beauchamp's carriage, the young officer said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lend me your whip one moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man at once put it in his hand, and the next instant it was laid -over Mr. Wharton's shoulders some five or six times with rapid and -vigorous reiteration.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think the price is five pounds," said Ned Hayward, nodding his head -to the smarting and astounded attorney; "it is cheap, Mr. Wharton, and -perhaps I may require a little more at the same price. Good morning," -and he re-entered the church, while the servants and post-boys gave a -grand shout, and Mr. Wharton sneaked away vowing vengeance for a -future day.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XLI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Come into the vestry," said Dr. Miles, in a low tone to Beauchamp, -"you have many things, my lord, to consider; and we have here the eyes -of a multitude upon us, the ears of a multitude around us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had better go back to the park," said Sir John Slingsby, who had -overheard the good old rector's words, "there we can talk the matter -over at leisure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The register must first be signed," said Dr. Miles, gravely, "for -whatever be the result, the ceremony has been fully performed--come, -my lord. The circumstances are, undoubtedly, very painful; but it -seems to me they might have been much worse."</p> - -<p class="normal">With slow steps and sad hearts the whole party followed; Isabella, -pale as death, looking down upon the ground, and Beauchamp with his -lip quivering and his brow contracted, but his step firm and regular, -as if the very intensity of his feelings had, after the first moment, -restored him all his energies. As they passed through the vestry-door -Isabella raised her eyes for an instant to his, and saw the deep -dejection which was written on his countenance. She touched his arm -gently to call his attention, and said, as he bent down his head,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not be so sad, you have nothing to reproach yourself with."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is some consolation, dear girl," replied Beauchamp, in a low -voice, "but still I must be sad. How can it be otherwise, when I have -to part with you for a time even at the very moment I call you my -own?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella did not reply, but her cheek varied, first glowing warmly, -then becoming deadly pale again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is Ned Hayward?" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, looking round, -"where the devil have you been, Ned?" he continued, seeing his young -friend coming in at the vestry-door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been horsewhipping Wharton," answered Ned Hayward, in an -indifferent tone; "but now, Lenham, what are you going to do in this -business?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To go to London directly," answered Beauchamp, "and bring this matter -to an issue at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pooh, the woman is not married to you at all!" cried Sir John -Slingsby, "the whole thing is a farce; still I think you are right."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am quite sure you are," said Ned Hayward, "and I will go with you, -if you will let me, Lenham. But first we must talk with good Widow -Lamb; examine these papers of hers accurately; ascertain exactly all -the circumstances and be prepared with every sort of evidence and -information. Cheer up, cheer up, my dear lord. Honour and -straightforward dealing always set these things right at last. Shall I -call in the old woman? she is standing out there by the vestry-door."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By all means," said Dr. Miles, "it may be as well to make all these -inquiries here, and determine at once what is to be done. The crowd of -gaping idlers from Tarningham will disperse in the meantime--sit down -here, Isabella, and be firm, my child, God does not desert those who -trust and serve him."</p> - -<p class="normal">While he was speaking, Ned Hayward had beckoned Widow Lamb and Stephen -Gimlet into the vestry, and Dr. Miles, taking the papers from the old -woman's hands, examined them carefully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The very appearance of these documents," he said, at length, "puts -the idea of forgery, or at least, recent forgery, quite out of the -question. No art could give all the marks of age which they present. -But we can have another and a better assurance, I believe, than the -mere look of the papers--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what are they, what are they, doctor?" asked Sir John Slingsby, -"I have not yet heard the exact import of either."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella moved nearer to the clergyman while he explained, and all -other eyes were fixed eagerly upon him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This first and most important document," he said, "purports to be -what is called in Scotland the marriage lines of Archibald Graham, -student in divinity, and Charlotte Hay, the daughter of Thomas Hay, of -Green-bank, deceased, within the precincts of Holyrood--which means, I -suppose, that he died in debt. The paper--I have seen such before--is -tantamount to a marriage-certificate in England. The marriage appears -to have been celebrated in one of the parishes of Edinburgh, and I -have lately had cause to know that very accurate registers are kept in -that city, so that the authenticity of the document can be ascertained -beyond all doubt."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the date, the date?" cried Beauchamp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The date is the 4th February, 18--," said Dr. Miles, "just thirteen -years ago last February."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nearly two years before the execution of their villanous scheme -against me," said the young nobleman; "so far, at least, all is -satisfactory, but what is the other paper?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hardly less important," replied Dr. Miles, whose eye had been running -over the contents while he conversed, "but it will require some -explanation. I would read it aloud, but that some of the terms are -more plain and straightforward than ladies' ears are accustomed to -hear. It is signed Archibald Graham, however, dated five years ago, -and addressed to David Lamb, who died in Tarningham some two years -back. He speaks of his wife Charlotte, and tells his cousin that he -hears she is still living in adultery with Captain Moreton. He says -that as her seducer's property is somewhere in this neighbourhood she -is most likely not far distant, and begs David Lamb to seek her out, -and beseech her, upon Christian principles, to quit her abandoned -course of life. The good man--and he seems a really good man--says -further, that although he can never receive or see her again, he is -ready to share his small stipend with her in order that she may not be -driven by poverty to a continuance in vice; but he seems to have been -ignorant of her pretended marriage with Lord Lenham--at least, he -makes no allusion to it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That was because he never knew it, Sir," said Widow Lamb; "I beg -pardon for speaking, but the way it all happened was this. Old Mr. Hay -had spent all he had and had taken to Holyrood to avoid his creditors. -Archy Graham, who was then studying divinity in Edinburgh, had been -born not far from Green-bank, and finding out Mr. Hay, was very kind -to him and his daughter. Though he was not very rich himself--for he -was only the son of a farmer well to do--he often gave the old laird -and the young lady a dinner when they could have got one nowhere else, -and when Mr. Hay was taken ill and dying, he was with him every day -comforting him. He paid the doctors, and found them food and every -thing. When the old man died the young lady was left without any means -of support. At first she thought of teaching, for she had learned all -kinds of things in other times, but people were not very fond of her, -for she had always been too gay for the Scotch folks, and there was -something flighty in her way that was not liked. It was need, not love -or gratitude either, I believe, that made her marry poor Archy Graham. -Soon after he got the parish of Blackford, and went there to have the -manse ready, leaving his wife in Edinburgh. He was only gone six -weeks, but he never saw her again, for when he came back to take her -to her new home, he found that she had been receiving the visits of a -very gay gentleman for some time, and had, in the end, gone away with -him in a phæton about a week before he arrived. Eight or nine months -after that a gay young lady came to stay on a visit at old Miss -Moreton's, with whom my poor husband David Lamb was greeve, or what -you call steward in England. I had gone down with her as her maid, and -had married the steward about eight years before, for my poor girl -Mary was then about seven years old. We saw this Miss Hay, as she -called herself, very often, but never thought she was the runaway wife -of my husband's cousin. Indeed, we knew little of the story till long -after. Captain Moreton was generally at his aunt's house, though he -often went away to England, and we all said he was going to marry the -pretty young lady, if they were not married already, as some thought. -But then he brought down his cousin Mr. St. Leger with him, and soon -after we heard of the marriage by consent when Mr. St. Leger had drank -too much, and about his going away in haste to England, and we all -said that it was a great shame, though we did not know it was as bad -as it was. About four months after old Miss Moreton died, and one day -the captain came down in great haste to my husband and told him a long -story about his being on the point of selling the property; but that -he would take good care, he said, that David Lamb should not be out of -employment, for his father, the Honourable Mr. Moreton, would take him -as steward if he would go up to Turningham directly. My husband said -it would be better for him to stay on the ground till Miss Moreton's -estate was sold, but the captain seemed in a great hurry to get us -off, for he said that his father was very anxious to have a Scotch -bailiff as they farmed so well, and he promised all kinds of things, -so that what with one persuasion or another we were away in a week to -Edinburgh, to take ship there for England. There we met with Archy -Graham, who afterwards came to visit us, and he and my husband had a -long talk about his unfortunate marriage, all of which I heard -afterwards; but David Lamb was a man of very few words, and he did not -mention to his cousin any thing about our having seen his wife at old -Miss Moreton's, though it seems the minister was even then going down -there to try and separate her from Captain Moreton, for he had found -by that time who it was that took her away, and it was because he had -written, several letters to the gentleman, and threatened to come -himself directly, that the captain was in such a hurry to get us away -to England."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not understand why your husband did not tell the whole truth," -said Dr. Miles, gravely, "it might have saved great mischief, Mrs. -Lamb."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know that, Sir," replied the widow, "but there are great -differences in the way men think of such things. I asked my husband -afterwards why he did not mention all about the marriage with Mr. St. -Leger, but he said he wanted to hear more about it before he opened -his mouth to any one; that he was not sure they had set up this law -marriage as a real marriage at all; and that it might be only a sort -of joke, so that if he spoke he might do more mischief than was -already done. I knew him to be a very prudent, thoughtful man, very -sparing, too, of his words, and it was not for me to blame or oppose -him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very true, Mrs. Lamb, very true," said Dr. Miles.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, your reverence," continued the widow, "he did try to hear more -of the business as soon as he had time to think of any thing but -himself and his own affairs; for, poor man, when he came here he found -that old Mr. Moreton had no occasion for a bailiff at all; and knew -nothing at all about him. We were going back to Scotland, again, after -having spent a mint of money in coming up to London and then down -here; but my husband fell ill of rheumatic fever, and for six months -was confined nearly to his bed. All--or almost all that we had saved -was gone, and we had to try for a livelihood here as we best could. We -did better than might have been expected for some time, and David made -many inquiries in regard to his cousin's wife and her second marriage -with Mr. St. Leger; but he only heard that the young gentleman was -travelling, and that they had certainly never lived together. Then -came the letter from Archy Graham; and my husband, whose health was -failing, consulted me about it, and I said, that at all events, it was -a pity Mr. St. Leger or Lord Lenham, as he was by that time, should -not know all the truth, for no one could tell how needful it might be -for him to prove that he was never really married to Charlotte Hay, -and David wrote back to his cousin, asking him to send him up proofs -of his marriage with the lady. So that brought up the marriage lines, -and I have kept them and the first letter ever since my husband's -death."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And is Archibald Graham still living?" asked Beauchamp, who had been -listening with painful attention.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was living not two years ago," answered Widow Lamb; "for he wrote -to me at the time of my husband's death, and sent me up ten pounds to -help me. Poor David had not neglected what he thought of doing, when -he asked for the proofs; but we could hear nothing of you, my lord. -You had been very kind to my poor boy, and I always put my husband in -mind of the business, so that he wrote to you once, I know, saying -that he had important information for you if you could come to -Tarningham."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I recollect," said Lord Lenham, "such a letter followed me into -Italy; but I did not recollect the name, and thought it but a trick of -that unhappy woman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, my lord, the case seems very clear," said Doctor Miles; "but -your immediate conduct in this business may require some -consideration. Perhaps we had better all go up to the park and talk -the matter over with Sir John at leisure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, my dear Sir," answered Beauchamp in a firm tone, "my conduct is -already decided. If you please, we will just walk to your house for a -few minutes, I dare say all the people are gone by this time. Come, -Isabella, there will be peace for us yet, dear one;" and he gave his -arm to his bride, who drew down her veil to hide the tears that were -in her eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">All the party moved forward but Sir John Slingsby, who lingered for a -moment, and laid his hand kindly upon the widow's arm. "You are a good -woman, Mrs. Lamb," said the old baronet, "a very good woman; and I am -much obliged to you. Go up to the park, Mrs. Lamb, and take the little -boy with you. I'll come up and talk to you by-and-by; but mind you -tell the housekeeper to take good care of the little man, and give him -a hunch of bride-cake. I don't think there will be much eaten in the -house by any one else. You go up too, Ste, and wait till I come."</p> - -<p class="normal">When Sir John followed to the rectory, which was somewhat slowly, he -found the rest of the party in the rector's drawing-room. Now the -house was built upon a plan not uncommon, and very convenient for -studious bachelors like Dr. Miles. The drawing-room on the right side -of the entrance hall opened by folding doors into a library, which -formed a right angle with it running along the back front of the -house--for houses have contradictions as well as human beings, and I -may add many a man has a back front to his character as well as many a -house. The library occupied one-half of that side, the dining-room the -other half; the offices all the left of the entrance hall and the -staircase the centre.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp, at the moment of the baronet's entrance, was speaking to -Dr. Miles and Ned Hayward in the bay window, Isabella was seated at -some distance, with her hand in her aunt's, and Mary Clifford was -leaning tenderly over her. But the position of all parties was soon -changed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The sooner the better, then," said Dr. Miles, in answer to something -Beauchamp had said, and turning away, the young nobleman approached -Isabella, and took her hand, saying, "Speak with me one moment, love."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella rose, and her husband led her into the library, and thence to -the dinning-room, leaving the doors open behind him. "Dearest -Isabella," he said, "forgive me for all the terrible pain I have -caused you--but you know it was that I was deceived, and that for the -world I would not have inflicted such distress upon you -intentionally."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I know it, I know it," said the poor girl, her tears flowing -fast.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But out of evil springs good, dear Isabel," continued Beauchamp, "by -this day's misery and anxiety, I trust we have purchased peace and -happiness for the future. Yet for me, my beloved, remains one more -painful effort. Till the decision of the law is pronounced upon all -the circumstances of this case, I must leave you, dear girl. No -happiness that your society can give me must induce me to place you in -a doubtful position. I must leave you, then, my dear Isabella, my -bride, my wife, even here almost at the steps of the altar; but I go -to remove every obstacle to our permanent reunion, and I trust in a -very few weeks to clasp you to my heart again, mine beyond all -doubt--mine for ever. I knew not, dear girl--I hardly knew till now, -how dearly, how passionately, I loved you, but I find from the -difficulty of parting with you, from the agony of this moment, what it -is to love with the whole heart. That very love, however, requires me -to go. Therefore, for a short, a very short, time, farewell, my love;" -and he threw his arms around her, and pressed one kiss upon her lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, do not go, do not go yet," said Isabella, clinging to him. "Oh, I -was so happy this morning, Henry, I felt quite oppressed with it. I am -sure there is a dizziness of the heart as well as of the brain--but -now I shall go home and weep all day!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, do not do that, dear girl," said Beauchamp, "for our parting is -but for a short time, beloved. Every one judges that I am right in -going. Do not let me think my Isabella thinks otherwise, do not render -more bitter what is bitter enough already, by a knowledge that you are -suffering more than is needful. Cheer thee, my Isabella, cheer thee, -and do not give way to grief and apprehension, when our fate is -lightened of half of its weight, by the certainty, the positive -certainty, that there is no serious barrier between us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will try," said Isabella, "I will try; and I believe you are right, -but still this is all very sad," and the tears poured down her face -afresh.</p> - -<p class="normal">When Beauchamp came forth, however, Isabella came with him, and was -calmer; but she would not trust herself to speak till he was gone. The -parting was then soon over. Ned Hayward, called up the carriage, gave -some directions regarding his own baggage to Sir John Slingsby's -servants, and bade farewell to Mary Clifford and the rest. Beauchamp -once more pressed Isabella's hand in his, and hurrying out sprang into -his carriage, Ned Hayward followed, and one of the post-boys, -approaching the side after a servant had shut the door, touched his -hat, and asked, "Will you go by Winterton or Buxton's inn, my lord?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By Winterton," answered Beauchamp, mechanically, and in another -minute the carriage was rolling on.</p> - -<p class="normal">For about twenty minutes Sir John Slingsby remained talking with Dr. -Miles, and then the party which had set out from Tarningham Park, so -happy and so gay, not two hours before, returned sad and desolate. -Even the old baronet's good spirits failed him, but his good humour -did not; and while Isabella retired with Mary to her own room, he -called Widow Lamb and Stephen Gimlet into his library, after having -assured himself that the little boy was taken good care of by the -housekeeper, he repeated his sage commendation of the old woman's -conduct, saying "You are a good woman, Widow Lamb, a very good woman, -and you have rendered very excellent service to us all this day. Now I -am not so rich as I could wish to be just now; but I can tell you what -I can do, and what I will do, Widow Lamb. Stephen, here, has his -cottage as keeper. It is a part of his wages at present; but I might -die, you know, or the property might be sold, Widow Lamb, and then -those who came in might turn him out. Now I'll give you a lease of the -cottage and the little garden, and the small field at the side--they -call it the six acres field, though there are but five acres and two -roods, and the lease shall run for your two lives. You may put in the -little man's life too, if you like; and the rent shall be crown a -year, Widow Lamb. I'll have it done directly. I'll write to Bacon to -draw the lease this minute," and down sat Sir John Slingsby to his -library table.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I beg your pardon, Sir," said Stephen Gimlet, approaching with a -respectful bow, "but I think it would be better not to give the lease -just yet, though I am sure both I and Goody Lamb are very much -obliged; but you recollect what that bad fellow, attorney Wharton, -said about the papers being forged, and if you were to give us any -thing just now, he would declare we were bribed; for he is a great -rascal, Sir, as I heard this morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are right, yon are quite right, Stephen," replied Sir John -Slingsby; "and Wharton is a great rascal. I am glad that Ned Hayward -horsewhipped him; I dare say he did it well, for he is a capital -fellow, Ned Hayward, and always liked horsewhipping a scoundrel from a -boy. But what was it you overheard this morning, Stephen? I hope you -were not eavesdropping, Ste. That is not right, you know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not I, Sir John," answered the gamekeeper, "but I could not help -hearing. I'll tell you how it all was in a minute. Yesterday morning I -was coming over here with the papers which Goody Lamb gave me for Lord -Lenham; but I took a bit of a stroll first, and just when I was close -upon Chandleigh Heath, Captain Moreton jumped out of a hedge upon me -in front, and young Harry Wittingham pinioned my arms behind, and -before I could do any thing for myself, they had a rope tight round my -elbows, and got me away to the lone cottage, where they shut me up in -a room with bars to the windows, and kept me there all day and all -last night. I did not sleep much, and I did not eat much, though the -captain crammed some bread into my mouth, and gave me a pail of water, -out of which I was obliged to drink like a horse; but they never -untied my arms. However, I heard a good deal of going about, and a -carriage-wheels, and some time after--it must have been twelve or one -o'clock at night--there was a great ringing at the bell, and people -talking, and I heard young Wittingham's voice, and then some one -galloped away on horseback. But nobody came to let me out, and I sat -and looked at the day dawning, wondering when all this would come to -an end. I looked long enough, however, before I saw a living soul, -though about six I heard people moving in the house. About an hour -after I saw poor Billy Lamb out of the window, creeping about in the -garden as if he was on the look out for something, and I put my foot -to one of the panes of glass, and started it in a minute. That was -signal enough for the good lad, and he ran up and put his face to the -window, whispering to me to make no noise, for Captain Moreton had -just come in in a gig, and had met Mr. Wharton at the door, and they -were both in the drawing-room together. I was not going to stay there, -however, like a rat in a trap a minute longer than needful; so as soon -as I found that Bill had his knife in his pocket, I made him put his -arm through the broken pane, and cut the cords round my elbows. I then -got his knife to open the door, but the one I came in by was bolted as -well as locked, so I couldn't get out that way. But there was another -door at the side, and I forced the lock back there soon enough. That -let me into the dining-room which had two doors too. Through one of -them I could hear people talking loud, and the other was locked. I -could not manage to open it, and though I had a great longing to go in -and give Captain Moreton a good hiding, yet as they were two to one, -and I was half-starved, I thought it might not turn out well, and -stayed quiet where I was. Then I heard them talking, and Wharton said -he could hang the captain; and I thought it very likely. But the -captain said to do that would put nothing in Wharton's pocket, and he -had better take his <i>post obit</i>, as he called it, for five thousand -pounds, which would give him a chance of something, and come over with -him to Winterton, and keep the lady quiet if she would go to the -church. There was a good deal of dirty haggling about it, but I made -out that the woman whom he called Charlotte was going to be at the -wedding, and that she had a great spite at his lordship, and I guessed -all about the rest from what Goody Lamb had told me. So as soon as -they had gone off in the gig together, which was not more than two or -three minutes after, I walked out through the drawing-room, -half-scared the servant girl into fits, and came away to little -Tarningham church, sending Billy Lamb up to my cottage. That is the -whole story, Sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old baronet commended his keeper highly, and vaticinated that -attorney Wharton would be hanged some day, in which, however, he was -mistaken, for that gentleman lived and prospered; and his tombstone -assures the passer by that he died universally regretted and -respected!</p> - -<p class="normal">The day passed heavily at Tarningham Park, and Isabella remained all -the morning in her own room. It was a very bitter cup that she had to -drink; for to apprehension and disappointment was added another -painful sensation. To her it was inexpressibly distressing to be made -the talk of the common public, She had felt that the very announcement -of her marriage in the public newspapers, the gazing crowd in the -church, the spectacle and the rumour in fact which attend such events, -were any thing but pleasant. But now to be the topic of conversation, -the object of tales and rumours, to be pitied, commiserated, perhaps -triumphed over--be even slandered, added deeply to all she suffered -both on Beauchamp's account and her own. However, she made a great -effort to conquer at least the natural expression of her feelings. She -knew that her father, her aunt, her cousin, all felt deeply for her, -and she was resolved to cause them as little pain as possible by the -sight of her own. She washed away all traces of tears, she calmed her -look, she strove not to think of her mortification, and at the -dinner-hour she went down with a tranquil air. Her room was on the -side of the house opposite to the terrace, and the principal entrance, -but she had to pass the latter in her way to the drawing-room. As she -did so, she saw a carriage and post-horses at the door, and as she -approached the drawing-room she heard a voice loved and well-known. -She darted forward and entered the room. Beauchamp and Captain Hayward -were both there, as well as her father and Mary Clifford. The very -effort to conquer her own feelings had exhausted her strength, and joy -did what sorrow had not been able to do. Ere she had taken two steps -forward she wavered, and ere Beauchamp could reach her, had fallen -fainting to the ground.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XLII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">With bitter disappointment at his heart, with the dark shadow which -had hung so long over his existence, turning all the rosy hopes of -life to the leaden gray of the grave, now returned after a brief -period of brighter expectations; with the cup of joy snatched from his -hand at the very moment he was raising it to his lips, Beauchamp -leaned back in his carriage, and gave himself up for a few minutes to -deep and sorrowful meditation. He remembered well when first the -feeling of love was springing up in his heart towards Isabella -Slingsby; that upon mature consideration of his fate he had determined -to crush it in the bud, to batter down the fountain of sweet waters, -which he feared some malific power would turn to poison, and never -attempt to link the fate of that dear girl to his sorrowful one, even -by the gentle tie of mutual affection; and now he almost regretted -that he had not kept his resolution. It is true, circumstances had -changed; it is true, there were good hopes that the evil star of his -destiny seemed likely to sink, and a brighter one rise; but yet a mind -long accustomed to disappointment and sorrow, can with difficulty be -brought to listen to the voice of hope without having the warning -tongue of fear at the same time. All seemed to promise well; for the -removal of that heavy weight which had oppressed his heart, kept down -his energies, crushed love and joy, and left him nought in life but -solitude and disappointment, and despair. But still his experience of -the past taught him to expect so little from the future, that he dared -not indulge in one vision of relief, and although he had used the -words of hope to Isabella, he could not apply the balm to his own -wound.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward sat beside him quietly, and let him think for about ten -minutes; and he did so for two reasons. In the first place, he knew -that it was very vain to offer consolation so soon after a bitter -mortification had been received; and, in the next place, he did not -wish to rouse his companion from the reverie till they had passed -Tarningham Park; for he judged that the sight of scenes, associated in -memory with happy hopes now removed afar, would only add poignancy to -disappointment. However, when the park was passed (and the four horses -went at a very rapid rate), he commenced the conversation in a way the -most likely to lead Beauchamp's mind from the more painful points of -his situation, to fix them upon those more favourable.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course, Lenham," he said, with an abruptness that made his -companion start, "before you act even in the slightest particular, you -will consult some counsel learned in the law. This seems a case in -which, with management, you have the complete command over your own -fate; but proper where a few false steps might be very detrimental, so -far, at least, as delay in the determination of the affair for some -months."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not, my dear Hayward," answered Lord Lenham, "how this may -turn out; but circumstances have rendered me, once the most hopeful -and light-hearted of human beings, the most desponding. I have a sort -of impression upon me, that the result will not be so favourable as -you anticipate. I have to oppose long practised cunning and the most -unscrupulous use of every means, however base and wrong. I must -remember, too, that this business has been long plotting, and, depend -upon it, that nothing which a perverted human mind could do to -obliterate every trace of this former marriage, has been left undone. -Depend upon it the conspiracy has been going on for some time, and -that the concealment of this woman's existence has been intentional -and systematic. In fact nothing could be more artful, nothing more -base, but nothing more evidently pre-arranged than all the steps which -they have taken within the last two or three months. Even on the very -sale of her goods, which took place in Paris about a month ago, it was -announced by public advertisement that they had been the property of -the late Charlotte Hay, Lady Lenham. I am afraid neither I nor any -lawyer, however shrewd, will be found equal to encounter this woman, -whose cunning and determination I never knew matched."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She seems a precious virago indeed," said Ned Hayward; "but never you -fear, my dear lord. I don't setup to be a Solomon, but there's a maxim -which I established when I was very young, and which I have seen break -down very much less frequently than most of his proverbs that will go -in your favour, if we but manage properly. It is this: 'Rogues always -forget something.' Depend upon it it will hold good in this instance. -Indeed we see that it has; for these good folks forget completely the -marriage certificate in the hands of Goody Lamb. Doubtless that -certificate will be easily verified, so as to put its authenticity -beyond all doubt; then nothing will remain but to prove the existence -of your predecessor in the fair lady's affections at a period -subsequent to her pretended marriage with yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That may be difficult to do," said Beauchamp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not in the least," cried Ned Hayward. "He has written to the good old -widow within two years, it seems. Of course they will try to shake her -testimony, and, though I don't think that can be done, we must be -prepared with other witnesses. Now you and I don't in the least doubt -the old woman's story, and if that story is true, her husband's -cousin, this fair lady's husband, was living, and the clergyman of a -place called Blackford, not two years ago. Every body in his parish -will know whether this is true or not, and a Scotch minister's life is -not usually so full of vicissitudes as to admit the possibility of a -difficulty in identifying that Archibald Graham, of Blackford, was the -husband of Charlotte Hay."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You should have been a lawyer, Hayward," said Beauchamp, with a faint -smile, "at all events, you prove a very excellent counsellor for my -hopes against my fears."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A lawyer! Heaven forefend!" exclaimed Ned Hayward, laughing; "a -soldier is a much better thing, Lenham; aye, and I believe when he -knows his profession, more fit to cope with a lawyer than almost any -one else. It is always his business to mark well every point of his -position, to guard well every weak part; and then, having taken all -his precautions, he advances straightforward at the enemy's works, -looking sharp about him that he be not taken in flank, and he is -almost sure to carry the field if his cause be good, his heart strong, -and his army true."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such conversation was not without its effect upon Beauchamp's mind. -Hope is the next thing to happiness, and hope returned, becoming every -moment more and more vigorous from the cheerful and sanguine character -of his companion. At length Ned Hayward looked out at the window, -exclaiming,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here we are coming to Winterton, I suppose, where we change horses. -Devil take those post-boys, if they go at that rate through the crowd -they will be over some fellow or another."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Crowd," said Beauchamp, and he too put his head to the window.</p> - -<p class="normal">The little solitary inn at Winterton-cum-Snowblast was on the side of -the road next to Ned Hayward, but when Lord Lenham, leaning forward, -looked out, he saw some forty or fifty people, principally country -folks, ostlers, and post-boys collected round the door of the house. -There was a sprinkling of women amongst the various groups, into which -they had fallen, and in the midst appeared a common post-chaise with -the horses out, while a man on horseback was seen riding away at a -jolting canter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There's something the matter here," said Beauchamp, "I will tell one -of the servants to ask."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke the chaise dashed on towards the inn-door, and Ned -Hayward's prediction of the consequences likely to ensue had nearly -been verified, for so eagerly were many persons in the crowd engaged -in conversation, that they did not change their position until the -last moment, and then a general scattering took place, which in its -haste and confusion had well-nigh brought more than one man or woman -under the feet of the leaders.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Horses on," cried the wheel post-boy, as he drove up, speaking to the -ostler of the inn, whose natural predilection for post-horses called -his attention to the carriage sooner than that of any other person in -the crowd.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We ha'n't got two pair in," he said, in reply, "without that pair -which is just off the shay; we been obliged to send off one this -minute to the magistrates about all this here business."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is the matter, my man?" said Ned Hayward, out of the -carriage-window, "what business is it you are talking of?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had better call master, Sir," said the ostler, pulling the brim of -his old hat with a somewhat renitent look, as if he did not like to -answer the question; "he'll be here in a minute."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This seems something strange," said Beauchamp, "we had better get out -and see. Open the door, Harrison."</p> - -<p class="normal">The servant, who was standing with his hand upon the silver knob of -the carriage-door, instantly did as he was ordered, and threw down the -steps with a degree of vehemence customary to lackeys and serviceable -to coach makers. Ned Hayward being next to the door got out first, and -as he put his right foot to the ground, the landlord of the inn came -up, bowing low to the first occupant of a carriage which had two -servants behind and a coronet on the panel. The bow would have been -much more moderate to a simple yellow post-chaise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is the matter here, landlord? Has any accident happened?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, yes, my lord," replied the landlord, supposing our friend to be -the proprietor of the vehicle, "a terrible accident, too--that is to -say not exactly, either--for it is clear enough the thing was done on -purpose by some one, who, it is not for me to say till the magistrates -come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what is it? what is it?" said Beauchamp, who followed; "you seem -to be very mysterious."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, you see, my lord," replied the landlord, who thought he could -not be far wrong in honouring both gentlemen with the same title, -"it's an awkward business, and one does not like to say much, but the -gentleman's got his throat cut that's certain, and whether he did it -himself or whether the lady did it for him seems a question. All I can -say is, I saw him sound asleep on the sofa five minutes before she -came back. He had a glass of brandy-and-water and two fried eggs just -after she went away with attorney Wharton, and seemed quite in his -right mind then, only a little tired with sitting up so late last -night and getting up so early this morning--but you don't seem well, -Sir," he continued, seeing Beauchamp turn a look to the countenance of -Ned Hayward, with a cheek that had become as pale as death--"had not -you better come in and take something?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Presently, presently," said Beauchamp, "go on--what were you saying?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing, Sir, but that the lady seems dreadfully wild, and I can't -help thinking she's out of her mind--I always did for that matter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is the gentleman dead?" asked Beauchamp, in a low tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Sir, not quite dead," said the landlord, "and the surgeon is a -sewing up of his throat, but it is no good I'm sure, for the room is -all in a slop of blood."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you know his name?" said Beauchamp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, Captain Moreton, I believe, Sir," said the landlord; "I've heard -so, I don't know it for certain."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will go in and see him," said the young nobleman, and he added, -seeing a look of hesitation on the landlord's countenance, "I am his -first cousin, Sir, my name is Lord Lenham."</p> - -<p class="normal">The announcement removed all doubt upon the good man's mind, and -Beauchamp and Ned Hayward walked forward into the inn guided by the -landlord. He conducted them at once upstairs to the rooms which had -been occupied by Captain Moreton and Charlotte Hay. At one of the -doors on the landing-place they saw a man standing with his arms -folded on his chest, but the landlord led them past to the room in -front of the house, first entering quietly himself. It was a ghastly -and horrible scene which presented itself when Beauchamp and Ned -Hayward could see into the room. The floor, the carpet, the sofa, were -literally drenched with gore, and even the white window-curtains were -spotted with dark-red drops. On the sofa, with an old white-headed man -and a younger one leaning over him, was the tall, powerful frame of -Captain Moreton. His face was as pale as death, his eyes sunk in his -head, with a livid-blue colour spreading all round them. His temples -seemed as if they had been driven in; the features were pinched and -sharp; the eyelids closed; and the only sign of life apparent was a -slight spasmodic movement of the muscles of the face, when the hand of -the surgeon gave him pain in the operation he was busily performing. -Two or three other persons were in the room, amongst whom was the -landlord's wife, but they all kept at a distance, and the man himself -advanced to the surgeon's side, and whispered a word in his ear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Presently, presently," said the old gentleman, "it will be done in a -minute," but Captain Moreton opened his eyes and turned them round in -the direction of the door. It is probable that he did not see his -cousin for they closed again immediately, but nevertheless his lips -moved as if he fain would have said something. Beauchamp did not -advance till the old surgeon raised his head, and the young man who -was assisting him took his hands from the patient's arms. Then, -however, Lord Lenham moved forward, and in a low tone asked the -medical man the extent of the injury. At the same moment Ned Hayward, -judging that his presence there was useless if not inconvenient, -advanced to a door at the further side of the room, saying to a person -whom he instantly judged to be the mistress of the house,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think we had all better go in here for a minute or two."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The lady is in there, Sir," said the landlady, "we have put somebody -in to watch her, for Heaven knows what she may do next."</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, Ned Hayward, who thought that perhaps some information -valuable to his friend might be obtained, opened the door to go in; -but the sight he beheld made him suddenly pause, though it had none of -those very striking and horrible objects which were presented by the -chamber he was just quitting. Yet there was something still, quiet, -and awful about its dark features, which perhaps affected the mind -still more. The room was a bedroom with one window and a door, which -Captain Hayward easily distinguished as that at which he had seen a -man standing on the outside. On the end of the bed sat Charlotte Hay, -dressed exactly as he had seen her in the church, and nearer to him -appeared a strong dull-looking young man seated in a chair with a -constable's staff in his hand. The unhappy woman's position was calm -and easy, and she sat perfectly motionless, with her high colour -unchanged, her hands resting clasped together on her knee, her head -slightly bent forward, and her eye with the peculiar dull glassy film -over it, which we have already mentioned more than once, fixed -earnestly upon the floor. She seemed in deep thought but yet not the -thought of intelligence, but rather the dreamy, idle, vacant pondering -of mental imbecility. There was an indefinable something that to the -eye at once distinguished her state from that of deep reflection, and -a curl of the lip, not quite a smile, yet resembling one, seemed to -mark out the idiot. The shutters of one of the two windows were -closed, so that the room was in a sort of half-light, yet on the spot -to which the gaze of Charlotte Hay seemed attached the sunshine was -streaming gaily, and the contrast between her fate, her prospects, her -history, and the warm, pure light of Heaven, was more painful than the -harmonising gloom of the dungeon could have been.</p> - -<p class="normal">When the door was opened by Ned Hayward, though it creaked as -inn-doors will do, upon its hinges, she took not the slightest notice; -indeed, she seemed unconscious of every thing, but the constable who -had been placed to watch her rose and advanced towards the door to say -that nobody could have admission there.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When the justices come, Sir," he said, addressing the young officer -in a low tone, "they can do as they like, but nobody shall speak with -her till then."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he uttered these words he heard a slight sound and turned his head, -but he turned it too late. Charlotte Hay had instantly taken advantage -of his eyes being withdrawn. She was already near the window, which -was partly open, and as he darted across to lay hold of her she threw -it up and with one leap sprang out. Ned Hayward instantly closed the -door that no sound might reach the other room, and ran forward to the -young man's side, who stood with his head leaning out and his eyes -gazing down below. The house was built on a slight slope, so that the -back was a story higher than the front, yet the height from the window -to the stable-yard could not be more than twenty feet. But the court -was paved with large irregular stones, and there lay the form of -Charlotte Hay still, motionless, and silent. No groan reached the ears -of those who looked down from above--not even a quiver of the limbs -was to be seen. Some of the men in the yard were running up in haste, -and the young officer and the constable hurried down. It mattered -little, however, whether they went fast or slow, for when they reached -the yard they found three men lifting a corpse. Ned Hayward gazed upon -that countenance where fierce and untameable passions had nearly -obliterated mere beauty of feature, but no trace of passion was there -now. All was mournfully calm, and though the eyelids moved once up and -down, there was nought in the eyes when they were for an instant -displayed but the glassy stare of death. The bonnet, which was still -upon her head, was dented in at the top, and a small red stain in the -white silk showed where the blood was issuing slowly forth from some -hidden wound received in the fall.</p> - -<p class="normal">They carried her slowly into the house, and placed her on a sofa in -what was called the parlour, while Ned Hayward ran up stairs to call -down the surgeon. When he opened the door, the elderly man whom we -have mentioned was washing his hands at the table, and Beauchamp was -seated by the sofa on which his cousin lay, bending down his ear to -catch the faint words of the wounded man, who seemed speaking to him -eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">The surgeon raised his eyes as the door opened, and perceiving the -sign which Ned Hayward made him to come out, dried his hands in haste -and went to the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must come down directly," said the young officer, "the unhappy -woman has thrown herself out of the window, and though I believe all -human aid is vain, yet it is necessary that some surgeon should see -her at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old man nodded his head with a grave look, returned for his -instruments which were on the table, and then followed down to the -parlour. He paused a moment by the side of the sofa, and gazed upon -the face of Charlotte Hay with a thoughtful air, then placed his hand -upon the wrist for a few seconds, withdrew it, and said aloud,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can be of no use here--life is extinct. I will examine the head, -however," and taking off the bonnet and cap he pointed with his finger -to a spot on the back of the skull, where the dark brown hair was -matted and dabbled, saying, "Look there! I cannot make a new brain!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Ned Hayward turned away with a slight shudder, for though he had faced -death many a time himself, and had seen men fall dead or wounded by -his side, he had never beheld a woman subject to the fate which man is -accustomed to brave.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is a terrible business altogether, Sir," said the surgeon, -following the young officer to the window, "do you know any thing of -it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing," replied Captain Hayward, "except that I believe the unhappy -woman was mad, for her conduct through life was that of a person -hardly sane. Do you think Captain Moreton likely to live?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Three or four hours, perhaps," replied the surgeon, "certainly not -more. She did her work very resolutely and with a strong hand. The -hemorrhage cannot be entirely stopped; he has already lost an awful -quantity of blood, and he will sink gradually."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then yon think that there is no doubt of her hand having done the -deed?" asked Ned Hayward.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the surgeon would not exactly commit himself as far as that.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He did not do it himself," was the reply, "that is quite impossible. -The wound is from left to right, and drawn so far round that he could -not have inflicted it with his own hand. He must have been lying on -the sofa, too, when it was done--probably asleep, for the stroke of -the razor was carried beyond the neck of the victim, and cut the -horse-hair cover through and through. The gentleman upstairs with him -is his cousin, I believe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I believe so," answered Ned Hayward, "but I am not acquainted with -your patient, and therefore cannot say exactly."</p> - -<p class="normal">The next moment steps were heard coming down, and Beauchamp and the -landlord entered the parlour.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will you have the goodness to go up to Captain Moreton, Sir," said -the young nobleman, addressing the surgeon, before he saw what the -room contained, "the bleeding from the throat has recommenced and -nearly suffocates him. Hayward, I must stay till this is over," he -continued, as the old gentleman hurried away, but then his eyes fell -upon the sofa, and he caught Ned Hayward's arm and grasped it tight -without uttering a word. For a moment or two he stood motionless as if -turned into stone by the sight before him, and then walking slowly up -to the side of the corpse, he gazed long and earnestly upon the face. -His feelings must have been strange during that long, silent pause. -There before him lay the being who had been the bane of his peace -during all the early brighter years of life; the woman who, without -ever having obtained the slightest hold of those affections by which -the heart when they are misplaced is usually most terribly tortured, -had by one infamous and daring act acquired the power of embittering -every moment of his existence. The long, dreadful consequences of one -youthful error were at end, the dark cloud was wafted away, the heavy -chain broken. He was free! but by what horrible events was his -liberation accomplished! What a price of blood and guilt had they who -had enthralled him paid for their temporary triumph ending in complete -defeat! He could not but feel that by the death of that woman sunshine -was restored to his path, and yet pain and horror at the means of his -restoration to light and happiness quelled every sensation of -rejoicing. Mingled as almost all human feelings are, perhaps never did -man's heart experience such mixed emotions.</p> - -<p class="normal">After what seemed a long time to give to any contemplation, he turned -towards Captain Hayward, inquiring in a low tone,</p> - -<p class="normal">"How did this happen, Hayward, and when?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A few minutes ago," replied his friend; "the constable who was -watching her came to the door to speak with me, and taking advantage -of his back being turned she threw herself out of the window. Perhaps, -Lenham," he continued, with that good feeling which always in matters -of deep interest sprang up through the lighter things of Ned Hayward's -character--"perhaps it is better that this is as it is. The act was -undoubtedly committed in a state of mind which rendered her -irresponsible for her own conduct. Had she survived, her fate might -have been more terrible, considering another deed in regard to which -it might have been difficult to prove her insanity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God's will be done," said Beauchamp, "that unhappy man is in no fit -state to die, and yet I fear death is rapidly approaching. All his -hatred of myself seems to have given place to the implacable desire of -vengeance against this poor tool of his own schemes. He says that -there is no doubt that she committed the act; that he was sleeping on -the sofa, having sat up late last night and risen early this morning, -and suddenly found a hand pressed upon his eyes and a sharp instrument -drawn furiously across his throat. He started up crying for help, and -beheld the wretched woman with the razor in her hand, laughing, and -asking if he would ever betray her secret again. It is, in truth, a -terrible affair; but I fear his deposition must be taken, and if he is -to be believed she must have been perfectly sane."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wonder if she was ever perfectly sane?" said Ned Hayward, "from all -I have heard I should doubt it--but here comes one of the magistrates, -I suppose, or the coroner."</p> - -<p class="normal">It proved to be the former, and the worthy justice first entered the -parlour and examined the corpse of Charlotte Hay as it still remained -stretched upon the sofa. Country justices will have their jests upon -almost all subjects, and though he did it quietly, the gentleman in -question could not refrain from saying, after looking at the body for -a moment,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, we are not likely to obtain any information from this lady, so -we had better see the other person, who is capable of being more -communicative. Which is the way, landlord? Have this room cleared and -the door locked till the coroner can come, he will take the evidence -in this case. I must get, if possible, the deposition of the gentleman -whom you say is dying."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, with the landlord leading the way and Beauchamp, Ned -Hayward, and one or two others following, he walked slowly upstairs -and entered the room where Captain Moreton lay. The surgeon was -bending over him and holding his head up on his left-arm. But the -moment the old man heard the bustle of many feet, he waved his -right-hand as if to forbid any one to approach. Every body paused for -an instant, and in the midst of the silence that ensued an awful and -very peculiar sound was heard, something like that made by a horse -taking a draught of water, but not so long and regular. It ceased, -began again, ceased; and the surgeon laid Captain Moreton's hand down -upon the sofa-cushion and looked round.</p> - -<p class="normal">The magistrate instantly advanced, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must take the gentleman's deposition, Mr. Abbot."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You come a little too late, Sir," said the surgeon, "he will make no -more depositions now."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was, indeed, as he said. Captain Moreton had just expired, and all -that remained for the magistrate, who was soon joined by one of his -worshipful brethren, was to gain all the information that could be -obtained from the persons in the house regarding the deaths of -Charlotte Hay and her paramour. Beauchamp and Ned Hayward answered the -questions which were addressed to them, but entered into no -unnecessary details. The rest of those who were called upon to give -evidence or volunteered it, were much more garrulous, and as the two -gentlemen remained to hear the whole depositions they were detained -for some hours at Winterton.</p> - -<p class="normal">When all was at length over, and Lord Lenham and Ned Hayward stood -before the inn-door, they gazed at each other for a moment or two -without speaking. At length Beauchamp's servant came up from the side -of the carriage, which was ordered some time before, was already -before the house, and inquired, in a commonplace tone,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where shall I tell them to drive, my lord?"</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a momentary look of hesitation in the young nobleman's face, -but the next instant he answered in a decided tone,</p> - -<p class="normal">"To Tarningham Park," and turning to his friend as soon as they were -once more in the vehicle, he said with a sigh,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will at least carry her the tidings, Hayward, and then--"</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused, and Ned Hayward asked, in his usual cheerful tone,</p> - -<p class="normal">"And what then, Lenham?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Once more on the way to London," said Beauchamp, adding gravely but -firmly, "there must not be a doubt in her mind as to the validity of -her marriage. I know how one drop of such bitterness can poison the -whole cup of joy; but tell me, Hayward," he continued, in a more -cheerful tone, "when is your own marriage to take place? You have told -me nothing of it yet, but you must not suppose that my eyes have been -shut either yesterday or this morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did not mention it because I imagined that you had enough to think -of, Lenham," answered Ned Hayward, "not from either want of frankness -or want of regard, believe me. But to answer your question--the day is -not yet fixed. Mrs. Clifford has consented much more readily than I -expected, Sir John when he heard of it was over-joyous, and Mary's two -guardians, knowing that their power is soon coming to an end, have -determined to use it leniently. Heaven only knows when we first became -acquainted, about three months ago by the side of Mrs. Clifford's -carriage, I little thought therein was my future bride. Had I known -that I stood in peril of love, and that with an heiress, too, I -believe I should have turned my horse's head and galloped all -the way back to London. Nay more, there has not been a day -during the last month, till about a fortnight ago, that finding -myself in imminent danger, I have not been ready to depart, but -circumstances--circumstances, my dear Lenham, those chains of adamant -kept me here, till one day, without at all intending it. I told the -dear girl I loved her, and she bade me stay, so I had nothing to do -but to obey, und now I think in three weeks more, thoughtless Ned -Hayward will be the husband of the sweetest and loveliest girl in the -world."</p> - -<p class="normal">"With one exception," said Beauchamp, smiling; "and one of the best -husbands in the world will he make her. But one thing more let me say, -Hayward; as little as you thought of finding marriage on your onward -path when first we met, so little did I think of finding friendship, -as little did I hope for or even wish it; and yet there is nought on -earth I value more than yours except the love of her I love best. -Should the sage lawyers have a doubt as to the validity of my marriage -with Isabella, should they even think it better that the ceremony be -repeated, with the fair lady's leave we will choose the same day, and -stand at the altar like brothers as we have been to one another for -some time past."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XLIII.</h4><h5>Sweeping out the Ball-room.</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Beauchamp and Isabella were left alone together for a few minutes -before dinner, for Sir John Slingsby and the rest of the party were -considerate. She lay upon the sofa still weak from the effects of the -fainting fit, into which she had fallen, and Beauchamp sat beside her, -holding her hand in his. He had told her all that had happened, gently -and kindly, not dwelling upon dark and horrible particulars, but -showing her simply that the aspect of their fate was altered. He then -went on to tell her his plans, informing her that it was his intention -that night to set off once more for London, in order to ascertain by -the best legal opinions he could obtain, whether their marriage was -really valid, and, in case of finding, that there was even a doubt on -the subject, to have the ceremony performed again; but Isabella -changed all his purposes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beauchamp," she said, for thus she still always called him, "I think -I know you love me, and will not refuse me a request. It is this: Do -not go to London at all; do not make any inquiries about the validity -of our marriage. Look upon it as invalid, and let it be renewed. In a -few weeks, a very few weeks, Mary is going to give her hand to your -friend Captain Hayward. Let us wait till then, and go with them to the -altar. There may be some painful circumstances to me, some painful -memories. I do not love to be made the subject of conversation and -gossip, and in the church the scene of this morning will come terribly -back to my mind; but in the meantime you will be with me everyday, and -that will compensate for a great deal."</p> - -<p class="normal">So it was arranged, and in six weeks from that time the two cousins -were united to the men whom they loved. Difficulties and dangers have -their interest in telling; calm and tranquil happiness has too few -incidents for record. Ned Hayward and Mary took up their abode with -Mrs. Clifford, and the fair bride had never any cause to repent that -she had discovered in her husband something deeper, finer, nobler than -those who had given him the name of thoughtless Ned Hayward. Certainly -there were some changes came over him. He was as cheerful, as -sunshiny, as frank and ready as ever; but he was not quite so fond of -fishing, shooting, and hunting. He liked a quiet walk or ride with -Mary better. He found out for himself a new employment also, and -devoted a great part of his time to the regulation of Sir John -Slingsby's affairs, easily gaining his old friend's consent, upon the -plea that he wanted occupation. His rapid perception of the bearings -of all things submitted to him, his strong good sense and quick -resolute decision, soon brought those affairs into a very different -condition from that in which he found them; and Sir John Slingsby -found, that by proper regulation, with an income diminished by the -careless extravagance of many years, he had really more to spend than -when his revenue was nominally much larger.</p> - -<p class="normal">Isabella and Beauchamp were as happy as the reader has already judged -they would be. He was looked upon by his acquaintances as a grave and -somewhat stern man; but Isabella had reason to know, that in domestic -life he was cheerful, gentle, and kind; for it was only in the -heartless bustle and senseless chatter of ordinary society that there -came over him a shadow from the long consequences of one only error.</p> - -<p class="normal">We have but few other characters to dispose of. Mr. Wharton's history -has already been told. Mr. Bacon did much better in life than might -have been expected. Although he was an honest man, he met with a -tolerable degree of success, strange to say. Aiding Ned Hayward in the -regulation of Sir John Slingsby's affairs, he became in the end a sort -of agent or law-steward to the baronet. Beauchamp, who bought the -Moreton property in the end, employed him in the same capacity; and -two other gentlemen in the country finding that matters throve in his -hands, made him their agent also. He never gave them any cause to -complain, and derived a very comfortable income from the exercise of -this branch of his profession; but, what is far more extraordinary, in -no instance did the property of his employers pass from them to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Stephen Gimlet in course of time became the head keeper to Sir John -Slingsby, was well to do in the world, and gave his boy a very good -education. Widow Lamb lived for nearly ten years after the events -which have been lately detailed, and she had the happiness of seeing -her poor boy William, by kind assistance given when most needed, and -judiciously directed when given, rise from the station in which we -first found him to be, at six-and-twenty years of age, the landlord of -the White Hart at Tarningham; and often on a summer's evening, when -there was not much to do in the place, he would stand at his inn-door, -and thinking over all the strange events he had seen in his youth with -a melancholy feeling of the difference between himself and other men, -he would whistle the plaintive melodies of which he was so fond in -boyhood, as if imagination carried him altogether away into the realms -of memory.</p> - -<p class="normal">There is but one other character, perhaps, that deserves any mention; -and, though his career was brief, we may speak of it more at large. -Harry Wittingham took possession of his father's large property with -title undisputed. A pompous funeral excited half-an-hour's wondering -admiration in the people of Tarningham when the old gentleman was -committed to the grave; and for some short time hopes were entertained -even by wise and experienced persons, that young Wittingham would -change his mode of life, become more regular and careful in his -conduct, and cast away the vices and follies that had disgraced him. -For a fortnight he remained almost entirely at home examining papers, -looking into affairs, and showing no small talents for business. A -number of small sums, lent out by Mr. Wittingham on interest, were -called in rather sharply, and some considerable purchases of land were -made, showing a disposition on the part of the young gentleman to -become a county proprietor. His reputed wealth, as is always the case -in England, whatever a man's character may be, procured him a good -deal of attention. People of high respectability and good fortune, -especially where there were two or three unmarried daughters, called -and left their cards; but Harry Wittingham's chief visitor and -companion was his friend Mr. Granty, and two or three county gentlemen -of the same stamp, who wore leather breeches and top-boots, rode -handsome horses, and sported a red coat in the hunting season. The -establishment kept up by old Mr. Wittingham was greatly increased, -even within a month after his death. There were two more grooms in the -stables, two more footmen in the hall, but this was no sign of -extravagance, for the property could well afford it, or even more; but -yet there was a sort of apparent uneasiness of manner, an occasional -gloom, an irritability upon very slight occasions, upon which neither -prosperity nor the indulgence of long thwarted tastes had any effect; -and Mr. Granty himself, in conversation with a friend, thought fit to -wonder what the devil Harry Wittingham would have, for he seemed never -contented, although he possessed as good a fortune as any man in the -county.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length Harry Wittingham gave a dinner party, and fixed it, without -any knowledge of the coincidence, upon the very same day when Mary -Clifford bestowed her hand upon Ned Hayward. When he discovered that -such was the case some short time before the party met, he became very -much irritated and excited, but pride would not permit him to put the -dinner off, and his friends assembled at the hour named. Seven persons -appeared punctually as the clock struck the hour, and shortly after -descended to the dining-room, where delicacies and even rarities were -provided in abundance, with the choicest wines that could be procured -from any quarter. The soup was turtle, brought expressly from London; -but Harry Wittingham himself did not taste it. He ate a good deal of -fish, however, and asked several persons to drink wine, but it -appeared as if he determined to keep his head cool, for he merely -bowed over his glass and put it down. Mr. Granty, who well knew his -old habits, was surprised at his abstemiousness, and thought it hardly -fair, for he had himself determined to have a glorious night of it at -the expense of Harry Wittingham's cellar, and such conduct in the host -seemed likely to chill the drinking propensities of his guests.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, Wittingham," he cried at length, "let us have a glass of -champagne together."</p> - -<p class="normal">"With all my heart," answered his entertainer, and the champagne was -poured out.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, Wittingham, drink fair," said Mr. Granty, laughing; "for hang -me, if you have tasted a drop to-day--this way, at one draught."</p> - -<p class="normal">"With all my heart," answered Harry Wittingham, and raised his glass. -He held it to his lips for a moment, and then with a sudden and very -apparent effort, drank the wine, but a sort, of convulsive spasm -instantly spread over his whole face; it was gone in a moment however, -and as if to conceal it, he said something sharply to his butler about -the wine not being good. "It was corked," he said; and Mr. Granty -laughing, cried,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Try another bottle."</p> - -<p class="normal">Another bottle was brought, and the glasses filled all round. Harry -Wittingham raised his with the rest, but instantly set it down again, -and pushed it away from him, murmuring with a haggard look, "I can't!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As may be easily expected, this very peculiar conduct had its effect -upon his guests. The party was a dull one, and broke up early, every -one remarking, that Mr. Wittingham tasted not one drop of all the many -wines that circulated round his table.</p> - -<p class="normal">When every one was gone, he rang the bell sharply, and told the -servant to go for Mr. Slattery.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell him to come directly, I do not feel well."</p> - -<p class="normal">In ten minutes more the surgeon was in the house, felt his pulse, -looked at his tongue, asked a few questions, and then said with a -smile,</p> - -<p class="normal">"A little fever!--a little fever! I will send you a cooling draught, -and all will be quite right to-morrow, I dare say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Don't send me a draught," said Harry Wittingham, "I can't drink it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, it shall be as good as wine," said Mr. Slattery.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good or bad, it does not matter," answered the young gentleman, -staring somewhat wildly in his face; "I tell you I can't drink it--I -drink not at all--I hate the very thought of drinking."</p> - -<p class="normal">Another quick, short spasm crossed his countenance as he spoke; and -Mr. Slattery, sitting down beside him with a somewhat dubious -expression of countenance, hemmed for a moment or two, and then said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, what can one give you then? But tell me a little more of the -symptoms you feel," and he put his hand upon the pulse again. "Have -you any headache?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," answered Harry Wittingham, "I have a sort of burning in my -throat."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Great irritation of stomach?" said Mr. Slattery, in a solemn tone. -"Have you met with any accident lately? Run a nail into your hand or -foot, or any thing of that kind?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," answered Harry Wittingham, "but a damned dog bit me just above -the heel six weeks ago, and it is not quite well yet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me look at the wound," said Mr. Slattery, "it may be producing -irritation."</p> - -<p class="normal">The shoe and stocking were soon removed, and Mr. Slattery perceived -four distinct marks of a dog's fangs in the tendon and muscles of -Harry Wittingham's leg. At each there was a round lump raised above -the skin, and from two of them a small, sharply-defined red line was -running up the leg towards the body.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Slattery bled him largely immediately, and telling him he dared -say he would be quite well in two or three days, returned home, and -sent off a man on horseback to the county town for a bottle of the -Ormskirk medicine. The Ormskirk medicine arrived; but instead of being -well in two or three days, in not much more than a week after Harry -Wittingham was in his grave.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE END.</h3><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<hr class="W90"> -<h4>PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.</h4><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Beauchamp, by -G. P. R. 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